Page 20 of Hemlock

"You want me to fuck you."

It isn't a question, but I can feel his need for confirmation in the way his body trembles, as if he's fighting taking me exactly the way he wants without caring what my thoughts are on this entire situation. I know if he lets that part take over, he'll use me up, leaving me nothing but a whimpering mess. But I also know, by the way my body is begging me for exactly what he has to offer, that I'll be left more satisfied than I ever have been before.

"Yes," I whisper, pulling my head back so I can look right into those complicated eyes of his.

I reach down, wrapping my hands around his thick cock as it juts outward, as if begging for some relief.

He doesn't let me dip my head to watch as I touch him, his hold insisting that our eyes meet.

It feels too personal, too intimate, the way we stare at each other. The only control I have is to close my eyes, but his stare is too intense to break the hold he has on me.

A warning echoes in my head, but taking a step back is the very last thing I can manage right now. I'm completely at his mercy, and when that dimple in his cheek deepens, I know he knows it too.

"How wet is your cunt?" he growls, his lip twitching as if he can sense the answer.

I shake my head. "I don't know."

"Liar," he spits. "I'd bet my bike you're soaked. You like danger, don't you, Zara?"

My name sounds more like a curse on his tongue than an acknowledgment of who he's actually speaking to, and for some reason, that does it for me as well.

"What would you do if I told you to suck my cock?"

I swallow before speaking, the thrill from him speaking more to me now than he ever has before.

"I'd ask for your jacket so the gravel hurts less on my knees."

His teeth scrape across his lower lip as if he loves the response I give, but when he releases his lock on my chin, he doesn't urge me to the ground. Instead, he pulls his wallet from his pocket, the foil packet he pulls from inside of it glistening in the moonlight.

I stand stock-still as he takes a step back, opening the packet with his teeth, before rolling the condom down his cock. The thin latex does nothing to hide the thick roping of veins along his shaft, and I feel a modicum of regret for not having the opportunity to see if I could fit the massive thing in my mouth. I shift my weight on my feet, knowing just how sore I'm going to be in the morning, but it's anticipation rather than fear that's making me a little lightheaded.

"Unzip your pants. Shove them down past your knees," he growls. "Tits out."

I blink up at him, my brain glitching on which task to satisfy first, but I figure doing it in the order that he demands would be best.

Frigid air licks at my overheated skin the second I unzip my jeans, but I shove them past my knees as he commanded before lifting my shirt and bra up to free my breasts.

My hands tremble as I lower them back to my sides, but it has nothing to do with the cold air. If anything, my body is trying not to overheat from the arousal I feel, despite the puffs of visible air leaving my lungs between the two of us.

"Watch out for the exhaust," he says as he turns me away from him to face his motorcycle.

The safety warning seems a little out of place, but it's forgotten the second his hand on my back urges me to lean forward. I bend and hold myself that way rather than resting my weight on his bike, fearful I'll tip the entire thing over.

A hiss of pleasure gets lost on the breeze when he digs a finger inside of me without warning.

"Fucking knew it," he snaps, his finger dipping in twice before he urges a second one into me.

I'm drenched, something I knew long before he even asked. I think the rumble of the bike between my legs started it, and I was more than ready by the time my hands roamed down the front of his body on the drive up the mountain.

I attempt to spread my legs wider, hoping he'll also ease the ache in my clit, but my jeans are too tight around my legs, preventing me from doing anything other than just standing here and taking whatever he feels the urge to give me.

He groans when I flex my internal muscles, clamping down on his fingers.

With a bruising grip on my hip, he pulls his fingers free. A second later, heat from the tip of his cock meets my most sensitive spot. He presses forward, his length sliding easily through my slickened desire along my clit.

I moan as if we're the only two people in existence, taking no care that we passed a discreet driveway less than a quarter mile before we reached the summit.

By the noise that escapes his lips, it's clear the man could probably come by just sliding through the clamp of my legs. I have no doubt if he does it long enough, he could easily carry me over that edge with him, but I ache to feel him inside of me.

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