Page 42 of Bucked By Love

I grab him by the shirt, pull him against me, and crush my mouth against his. “Need you,” I tell him.

Finally, he adjusts. He reaches between us and I feel the thickness of his cock press against my sex.

I gasp, wanting it. But he holds me here, teetering on the edge of pleasure.

“Ready?” he asks.

His body trembles over mine. And I realize…

He’s nervous.

It’s sweet. I can’t help the grin that climbs my lips. “Are you?” I stroke his hair back, comforting. “You’re shaking.”

“Chills,” he answers, but it’s an obvious lie. “It’s cold.”

Let’s lead this horse to water.

“Let me warm you up.” I give him a tiny lick at his chest, and I run the tip of my tongue up his throat. I hit the bump of his Adam’s apple, slide it over his chin, and taste his mouth. I suck his bottom lip, ravenous as a mountain lion.

Who the hell is this filthy version of Claire?

I don’t know, but I like her.

“Yes,” I tell him. Full, enthusiastic consent. “I’m ready.”

His eyes meet mine. He shifts between us and his erection nudges between my legs. I feel the head of him glide against my slit, coating me in my own slick. Then he starts to slide it inside and?—

Oh God. I choke on a whimper. My fingers ball up and my body goes tense.

Ransom stops moving.

“You okay?” he asks.

My throat is tight. I almost can’t speak. I was so confident, but that was before, and now my confidence is replaced by this feeling of being so fucking full. It’s so big, and so thick inside of me, stretching me, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stand again, not after this.

I swallow. I don’t want to sound weak. “It hurts.”

“Just a couple more inches, princess. You’re doing so good.”

A gasp catches in my throat. “There’s more?”

He chuckles. “Put that on my gravestone.”

I give him a quick smack, the way a cat bats away an offending hand. “Don’t be funny right now.”

“Okay. Sorry. Here.” He takes my hand. He pushes his fingers against my palm, uncurling my fist, and fixes my hand over his shoulder instead. “Dig your nails in when it hurts,” he tells me. “Real hard. Don’t be shy. If you hurt, I hurt.”

If you hurt, I hurt. I don’t know why, but that’s exactly what I need to hear right now. Maybe because I don’t want to be alone in this, I take him up on it. I curl my fingers in, digging my sharp nails into his skin.

He shivers. “That’s good,” he tells me. His voice goes hoarse. “Keep going.”

I scrape my nails up his shoulder, over the soft skin of his neck. I dig in so hard, I see the pink trails my nails leave. And…it’s helping. I don’t know why, but it helps to scratch him. My body relaxes somehow, accepting him in as he pushes deeper. It still hurts, and when he thrusts inside of me fully, I rake my nails across his back and cry out. There’s a burst of pain and pleasure, all at once. He starts rolling his hips against me, the truck bed clicking in our passion, and the pain turns to ache, which turns to this burning, feral need. I suddenly need all of him, more of him, harder, deeper, just like that?—

We roll together, him thrusting, me clawing, ours mouths colliding. I bite into his skin, sucking it, wanting to devour him. He groans in my ear. “Fuck, princess, you feel so good.”

“So do you.” We’re slick together, coated in each other’s sweat.

“I’ll never be inside another woman,” he says suddenly.

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