Page 21 of Hemlock

"Please," I beg, needing more in order to satisfy that bone-deep throb inside of me.

I wince when his fingers tug my head back, the grip of his hand on my hip forcing a deep arch into my spine.

"You'll get what I feel like giving you," he growls in my ear, but we must have the same train of thought because it only takes two more ragged breaths before he's notched himself right at my entrance.

I know how hard he's planning on taking me when the grip of both his hands tightens.

Pain has never been something I ever thought to consider where sex was concerned, but there's just something inherently natural about the way the aches in both my scalp and on my hip turn me on.

Instead of slamming into me as I expect him to, he presses forward, his thickness forcing my body to accommodate him.

We moan in unison, my legs growing weaker the further he pushes into me.

The second he finds the end of me, he pulls back and pushes forward again. I swear the man is splitting me in two, but my body hums with the need for more.

Surprisingly, warm fingers press against my clit, the grip of his hand on my hip gone but leaving behind the burn of the pressure he applied.

He seems content with the slow glide in and out of me, his breath ragged in my ear until his cock nudges that perfect spot deep inside of me and I cry out his name, the two syllables of it disappearing on the wind quicker than it took to speak them.

Instead of swirling his fingers on my clit like I'm so desperate for, he reaches further, curling a finger alongside his cock into my impossibly tight heat.

I scream once again, but the pain is merely a shadow left behind as pleasure takes over. I feel split in two just as I predicted I would, only the level of pleasure it brings is something I know I'll crave long after we're done.

"Shouldn't feel this fucking good," he snarls in my ear, his hips now pistoning, cock slamming into me so that the sound of skin hitting skin reverberates through the dark night.

The orgasm takes me by surprise, my inner walls clamping down on his cock and begging for more. He fucks me through it, all sane thoughts escaping on my cries of sheer pleasure. It feels endless, eternal, as if it could last forever, and when his cock thickens inside of me, asking my body for just a little more than it should be able to take, it's once again prolonged.

His grip on me tightens with every pulse of cock deep inside of me, and I have no doubt that when he pulls his fingers free of my hair, clumps of it will remain in his grip.

All I've done is stand here and take what he has to offer, but you wouldn't be able to convince my body of that. I feel drained, like I've run a marathon on nothing but a glass of water and a prayer.

I feel overwhelmed, the trembling in every muscle in my body showing no signs of slowing anytime soon.

I feel the warmth of his hands as he turns me to face him, smell the bodywash on his skin when he pulls me to him, his hands working to pull up my jeans.

The tips of my breasts scrape over his clothing as I'm jostled in his bid to get me dressed. I feel weightless, my head incapable of forming real thoughts.

I feel the helmet settle on my head, and I manage to climb on the back of the bike when he urges me to do so. I sense the rumble of the machine, the vibration sending me to a whole other plane.

Then I'm on my front stoop, his hands in my jeans pocket, the jingle of my keys as the door is unlocked.

Then the warmth of the room, the closing of the front door, and then silence.

It takes much longer than it should for me to come to my senses enough to realize that the man brought me home without even having to ask where I lived.

Just who the fuck is Owen Clark?

Chapter 11

Hemlock

I'm not a man who deals in regrets.

Shit happens, and although I can acknowledge that things could have turned out differently, I don't let shit like that bother me.

I can't recall a moment in my life where emotions made me reconsider an action I've taken. I have had shit go sideways, making me recalibrate and consider what could've been done differently to get the result I initially desired.

But regret? That's for sane people to deal with.

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