Page 34 of Pyne

I retreat from her mouth just far enough to say, “I’m going to make you feel so good, Becca, then I’m going to fill you with my seed.”

“More. Tell me more filthy words, Pyne.”

Pressing my lips to her ear, I husk, “I’m going to pluck these pretty nipples…” I can’t say this without a demonstration. I flick, then pluck, then dip my head to lick and pull with lip-covered teeth until she’s panting and straddling my thigh as she grinds against me.

“Look at you, love. Taking your pleasure. That’s right. So good.”

She pauses, eyes flying wide as though she hadn’t been aware her body was moving of its own volition. When I slide my thigh farther between her legs and press her ass against me, it’s all the nudge she needs to abandon her inhibitions and hump me as I return my attention to her responsive peeks.

“Should I be selfish, Becca? Should I toss you on the couch, crouch between your legs, and drink my fill of you?”

Her only response is a weak whine of desperation.

“Or should I mate you?”

“That. Yeah. Mate me.”

I dance us to the window, flip her so she’s looking out at the shimmering nebula, and press her palms to the glass.

“You watch the stars while I slide into you, love.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Becca

This is half dream, half reality. Could I really be here, on this ship full of welcoming people, a free woman in Pyne’s muscular arms? Is he playing my body as though he owns it while I look at the scintillating greens and purples of a nebula?

He lifts me as though I weigh nothing, arranges me so his thighs are between my outspread thighs, and lines himself up with my core. I’ve been dripping wet for him since before we ran here from our cabin. The glass is cold against my hardened nipples, and his hot breath on that magic spot behind my ear is amping me up, taking me to heights I’ve never reached before.

“I love you, Becca.” He presses inside me in little pulses.

It doesn’t surprise me that it’s not an easy slide. I’ve seen him, had my mouth on him—he’s huge. And patient. Almost like a machine, he pistons into me, thrusting, burrowing in.

The stretch and burn is delicious as I work with him, pressing down with his every stroke, although I have nothing to grip onto, nothing to leverage my body with but the slick glass.

“That’s right, Pyne. Ohh. Right where you belong.”

He grips my hips harder, nips my neck as his final surge connects us completely. Instead of pounding into me, rushing to completion, he stops, laps at the column of my neck, and breathes, “You are… everything, Becca. Everything to me.”

I look into the glass, which acts like a mirror to see him gazing at me with so much love my heart almost stops beating in my chest. This is it, what some secret part inside me dreamed of since I was a little girl. I’m loved and cherished and safe in the arms of the best male in the galaxy.

He pulls out, flips me to face him, and spears into me again. This time in one delicious, hard slide. Then he makes love to me in earnest. This male learned my anatomy the other day when his face was between my legs, because each forceful drive drags along my clit, propelling me higher each time.

Somehow, he changes his angle and bestows pleasure with every press in and every retreat.

“Oh! Fuck!” It’s too much and not enough and I want to come immediately and I want it to last forever. I guess it doesn’tmatter what I want because my male is completely in charge as his tempo increases.

He grunts with every plunge. Loud gusts of air laced with guttural noise. His fingers press into my hips as he pumps into me.

I’m holding on for dear life, my nails biting into his shoulders. I could be drawing blood for all I know, though I don’t think either of us care. The air is filled with the smell of lust—his, mine, ours as it curls in the air. Our flesh slapping together is the only sound other than the reassuring hum of the thrusters that will be the background music of my life as long as I’m on this ship.

My need is spiraling higher.

“Almost,” I tell him, the two syllables costing so much effort.

“Come for me, love.”

His forceful words put me over the top, and my muscles clench around him. Perhaps it’s my spasms that cause him to detonate. He grunts his bliss as his hips pulse hard against me—once, twice, three times. Hot bursts of his essence bathe my channel as his pleasure erupts.

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