Page 6 of Tusk's Fury

Next come the panties, and I try to make a production of removing the tiny scrap of satin and lace. I don’t get very far because he lunges forward, picks me up, and tosses me onto the bed. The sexy bastard looks me right in the eye as he rips the panties off my body and brings them to his nose.

“Damn, baby. Those were brand new for the occasion.”

He starts with a kiss and works his way down my body, hitting all my pleasure spots. By the time his face is between my legs, I’m already trembling. He licks over my most sensitive spot with the lightest of touches, and my body quivers. I’m right on the edge. One more like that, and I’m gone. Tusk knows my body too well and eases back, teasing instead of giving in. It’s all pleasure, so I run my fingers through his hair and let myself enjoy it.

After he takes me to the peak twice, I pull him up because it’s too much. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I tell him breathlessly, “It’s time for the main event, babe. You must be about to explode.”

His voice is rough. “I’m so hard it hurts, but he’s all yours if you want him.”

I push him back and climb on top of him. He wasn’t joking. He’s huge, swollen, and ready. The veins are bulging, his body tense beneath me. He quickly positions himself, and I bear down, trying my best to take him all at once. He has a nice, thick cock, so I have to rock back and forth a bit to get him all the way in. But finally, he bottoms out.

“Go ahead and say it. I won’t be upset. I know I’m a pussy full. Get used to it, sweetheart.”

I laugh because he’s always catching me off guard. His expression is amused and happy. He often says the last thing I expect.

“Alright, handsome, I’m absolutely going to rock your world. Are you ready?”

He jerks his chin at me with one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided grin. “Always. I’m always ready for you, sweetness.”

I put my hands on his chest and start moving. Every second or third stroke, I give my hips a little twist. After about fifteen minutes of this, his control issues get the better of him, and he rolls us over so he’s on top. Having him on top, taking control, is incredible.

He likes it when I run my nails over his chest and stomach. It turns him on, makes him go a little wild. I decide to try something new and run my palms over his nipples.

He gasps. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

The poor man looks so conflicted that it makes me want to up the ante. So, I pinch his nipples and gently scrape them with my nails. If I thought he was wild before, it’s nothing compared to now. He wraps one arm around my back, grips my opposite shoulder, and practically slams into me. Pleasure sparks up my spine, overwhelming me.

I cry out, and three thrusts later, he follows.

Sex with Tusk is always mind-blowing, but tonight is off-the-charts hot.

As we calm down, he keeps himself inside me. One hand cups my face, and he looks me dead in the eye.

“Do not ever do that nipple shit again,” he says sternly.

Confused, I say, “But you liked it. It drove you insane with lust.”

Pulling out, he curls around me. “Yeah… and now I know why women like it so much. The problem is, I ain’t a woman. And nipple stimulation is for women.”

My poor, uptight man. I stroke his beard and tell him, “It’s for anyone who likes it. I can’t believe you’d turn down something you enjoyed just because you think it’s not for men.”

“It’s not appropriate and kind of emasculating.”

I cuddle closer to him and say soothingly, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. But I think you should know—a lot of men like nipple stimulation.”

“Not brothers,” he responds confidently.

I could tell him a few tales, but I decide to save that conversation for another time. He’s weirded out and probably needs to process.

Instead, we snuggle closer and drift off to sleep. Falling asleep in Tusk’s arms is my happy place.

Chapter 3

Brittany

This morning, I’m pacing in my apartment. It’s been a month since Tusk was patched into the Legion, and I’m still not in his property cut. We’ve been together for almost eleven months. If he doesn’t know by now whether he wants me, I don’t know what else I can do to convince him.

I toy with the magnificent bracelet he gave me, trying to work through what I might be doing wrong—what’s keeping our relationship in this holding pattern.

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