Fracture (Blood & Roses #3-4) - Callie Hart Page 0,6
decision earlier: I’m done being afraid. He picks it up and I brace, readying myself for the panic of being completely vulnerable. This isn’t going to be like before when he restrained me, tying me to the bed. This will be hands behind back, ankles knotted together. Who knows? Maybe he’ll hogtie me. Sweat prickles in a nervous rash across my skin, and Zeth hesitates. He stops altogether.
Why is he stopping?
He doesn’t say a word. He jumps down and yanks his shirt over his head in that careless way men do, and then he’s looming at the end of table like some rough-hewn monolith, only he is made out of tightly packed muscle instead of stone. He unbuckles his belt, gets rid of his shoes, rips off his jeans in the space of ten seconds flat, and then there he is…standing naked in front of me. His cock is rigid and hard, the tip level with his naval. I’ve seen quite a few penises through my training and later through my work, but I’ve never been possessed with the urge to toy with one before. In fact I’d always thought they looked quite gross. But Zeth? No, not Zeth. He is magnificence personified. I realize I’m staring at him. The intensity with which he stares right back is unnerving and confronting, and yet I can’t look away. I don’t want to.
“Stand up.”
I barely trust my legs to do it, and yet they somehow manage. A thousand scenarios run through my head—is he going to bend me over the table and fuck me? Is he going to grab that knife from the kitchen again? Is he going to blindfold me and do unspeakable things that I can’t even begin to imagine? But he doesn’t do any of that.
He snatches me into his arms and hoists me up so that I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist. And then he slams me up against the wall, pain jangling through my nerve endings like jarring, discordant piano chords.
“Ah!”
He doesn’t waste any time; he’s inside me. He thrusts inside me so hard that my eyes water.
“Ah!” I cry out louder this time, and Zeth grunts, too, straining with the effort of pile driving into me. Hands grasping hold of my hips one second, pulling firmly on my hair, tipping my head back the next, he exposes my neck and grazes his teeth across the sensitive skin of my collar bone. The mix of pleasure and pain is dizzying. I’m pulled into his fever, allowing the fire sparking inside me to run riot. I gouge my fingernails into his back, enjoying the way his muscles tense against the pain.
“Bad girl,” Zeth snarls. But he doesn’t tell me to stop. If anything, he seems to push back against the pain. I grab hold of a fistful of his hair and jerk his head back just as he did to me a moment ago, and suddenly I can see the look on his face. He’s a man possessed, eaten up by his need. For me? This dark, brooding, sexy as hell man wants me? Shit. I don’t know how that could possibly be, but I see it there plain as day.
Zeth slams himself into me over and over, our eyes now locked together. Something…something is passing between us. With each and every thrust, it feels like I’m drawing closer to something, being pulled in like a boat toward shore. He reaches down between our bodies and starts to stroke my clit, applying a pressure that shows he means business. He wants to make me come. I’m ready to do that—I want to do it for him.
As the pleasure builds to hurricane Zeth proportions inside me, I feel like…I want to do something I know is stupid. I lean forward and do it anyway before I can stop myself. My lips meet Zeth’s, crash down on his as he pummels me against the wall, and for one blissful moment I’m in heaven. His lips on mine, full and sweet and tasting like bubblegum and sex. The most divine thing I’ve ever experienced. And then I’m coming.
Involuntarily my head kicks back, smacking into the wall behind me as a surge of pure fire ignites through my body. I see stars, from both the pain of cracking my head on plaster and the orgasm that explodes through me. Zeth comes at the same time, roaring out his climax just as he did back at his apartment. His fingers dig