Page 47 of Another Life

I feel his warm, bare skin as he slides up against my body. Feel his dick as it trails against me, staking its claim on me. His hands find my hips, pulling me up while his knee spreads my legs apart with an ease that leaves me breathless.

He presses a kiss against the base of my neck, just before sliding his fingers against my scalp and yanking my hair at its roots, pulling my face up.

“Don’t hide from me.” His words are forceful as he huffs an exhale, keeping one hand in my hair until he’s convincedmy head is going to remain upright. Once he’s satisfied, that hand slides to the front of my neck, his thumb on one side and fingers on the other. A light squeeze has my body shaking, before he releases, straightening.

The power, the dominance, the care.

I shudder as I look back at him, watching the way he looks down at me, wondering what he thinks of me spread so openly before him.

When he presses his thumb just inside me, my hips buck back, and I press my eyes shut only to open them when I feel a sting on my right ass cheek.

Heavy eyes look back at me as I register the shock coursing through me. He speaks evenly, as if I’ve ever allowed a man to spank me before.

“You wear pink so well,” he murmurs, his palm smoothing over skin that I’m sure wears his handprint. But I’m not sure that it’s only the handprint that he’s talking about as he leans back a little.

When his gaze flits to mine, I meet his stare with my own timid one, peering up through my lashes as he tilts his head to the side.

“Who is this shy beauty before me?”

“I’m not shy,” I say, wishing he would do something. Anything to push me over the edge.

“Good.” He offers no warning before he reaches for one of my hips to press me back against him, his other hand finding my neck again. Maybe his aim is perfection or maybe I’m too wet to miss but the way he slides right inside has me gasping. He pulls out and I groan at the way I miss his length, his girth, the way we sound together.

“Please,” I whimper, my eyes half-closed.

“Say it again,” he commands, and I’d think he was fully in control if his grip didn’t tighten on my neck.

“Please, Abraham,” I tell him, my voice hoarse from the light pressure. “Please.”

He rolls his head back with a groan before plunging himself back inside, the beginnings of a rhythm forming, and I meet each thrust with my own effort.

In my euphoric haze, I almost miss the way he hangs his head, his lips puckered as he spits. It lands at the base of my tailbone, and I shiver as it slides down, just as his thumb stops it at my other entrance.

He presses it inside, while squeezing at my neck again and I lose myself for a second.

I reach between my legs, and he leans over to bite my shoulder and I cry out.

“Put your hand down,” he commands, anger and lust thickening his accent. “I don’t need your help to make you come.”

We’re a frenzy of moans, grunts, and the wrestling of dominance between us.

I may have my ass in the air, and he may have his hand on my neck, but I meet each thrust with a fervor of my own, counting on the way his grunts gain in volume and he quickens his thrusts.

I feel the impending orgasm, unfamiliar, stronger than what I’ve been able to work from my own body. I gasp as it takes over, his hold on my neck keeps me from hiding my face.

“Merda,” Abraham grinds out just before his own orgasm takes over.

We topple over, satiated, and he pulls me into his arms, kissing my forehead before running his fingers through my hair.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SUFFER THE WOUNDS

PRESENT

“Why did things end the way they did?” I ask him, filling the silence we’ve grown comfortable with as we sit on our designated swings.

This is the second time we’ve met here, at the park across the street from my office, and I can’t help but keep him at a distance while we try to figure out what the hell we’re doing.

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