Page 91 of Pulse

“You can touch me whenever you want.”

“Yeah?” He increased the pressure, drawing another moan from her. “What about in public, where everyone will know you’re mine? Can I touch you then? Show all the fuckers out there who you belong to?” He pinched her nipples.

She should have been horrified that a man wanted to claim her. Instead, she was trying to hold off on coming from his words alone.

“Show everyone whoIbelong to,” he said in a low rumble.

Their gazes locked, and she didn’t dare breathe. What was he asking?

“What do you say?” he asked, still playing with her nipples, which made it nearly impossible to think. “You want to be my ol’ lady?”

Her heart skipped a damn beat. “And you’ll be my ol’ man?”

“Only way it works,” he said with the first grin she’d seen from him all day.

“Yeah, Pulse. I want that. I really want that.”

Together, they worked her shirt and bra over her head. It took five times as long as it should because they couldn’t separate their mouths long enough to complete the task.

Whatever, they weren’t in a rush. They had all afternoon to celebrate.

Once she was bare from the waist up, Talia went to work on Pulse’s clothes. She slid her hands into his cut, easing it off his shoulders. He caught it as it slipped down his arms, then tossed it over a kitchen chair. His T-shirt was next. Pulse grabbed a handful of fabric behind his back and tugged it over his head in a way women drooled over.

Various tattoos covered his body, detailing his life story before he met her. A lifelike motorcycle with flames shooting from the rear wheel adorned his entire right ribcage. A medical symbol she recognized as representing his career as a nurse ran the length of his left side. He had a storm cloud near his collarbone with six numbers inked inside. A date. The day Camila died and when he walked away from his former life if she had to guess.

He backed her through the small apartment toward the bed. The whole time, she ran her hands along his torso, tracing tattoos and absorbing the solid strength beneath her fingertips. When her calves hit the bed, he reached for the button on her denim shorts. Every time his knuckles brushed her lower belly, she shivered in anticipation.

Once nothing remained of her clothing but a heap on the floor, Pulse started on his jeans. She followed as he shoved them down his hips, running her hands down to his cock where she took him in her fist.

Pulse hissed, and his pupils flared as his stomach muscles contracted. What a rush to elicit such a strong reaction with nothing but the touch of her hand. She stroked him from root to tip, mesmerized by the pleasure playing across his face. His eyes darkened, and his nostrils flared as he clenched his fists at his sides. How he visibly struggled to hold himself in check and let her do as she pleased was a thrill like no other.

Her mouth watered, so she started to lower to her knees.

“Another time.” Pulse caught her under her arms. “I’ll fucking lose it in two seconds, and I want to be in your pussy when I come.”

As though stating it’s agreement, her pussy clenched.

“Bare?” she whispered.

He raised an eyebrow. “Your call.”

They’d talked about it at length. Both were clean and hadn’t been with anyone else in that way. Talia had been on birth control for years to regulate her cycle. Did she want him to be the first man to fuck her without a condom? Did she want to feel his cum inside her, dripping out when they finished?

“Yes. I want it.”

He groaned. “Lie on the bed.”

The dark promise in his voice had her limbs shaking as she sat on the bed and then scooted up to the pillows. The sheet’s soft cotton felt cool on her overheated skin. Pulse watched every move she made with hungry eyes. He’d taken over stroking his cock in an intoxicating show. All those muscles and tattoos moving as he slowly pleasured himself could make him millions if he ever had the urge to film himself.

“Spread your legs.”

She did as he asked so quickly it was almost comical.

“Christ.” He swallowed. “I can see how fucking wet you are. Your pussy is soaked for me.”

“I want you,” she whispered. “I always want you.”

“Fuck, I’m a lucky bastard.” He released himself, chuckling at her pout, then crawled onto the bed between her legs. Starting at her ankles, he worked his hands up her legs in a torturous combination of massage and light, tickling touches. Talia fought to keep from squirming. When he reached her inner thighs, he walked his fingertips across the sensitive skin, and her back bowed off the bed.

---