Page 40 of The Dire Reaction

His damp hair is dark and falls over his brow, but it doesn’t hide the fire that ignites in his eyes. “You’re right. I’m going to punish your tight little pussy until you scream.”

A burning palm follows my ribs, his thumb grazing the hollow at the base of my spine before he dips between us, freeing himself from the confines of his jeans. Hot pressure flows through me when he brushes his swollen head against my wet clit and he pushes into me.

Shit, he’s so big. I can feel my walls quivering as I stretch around him. The thin fabric of the shirt tightens around me, he’s knotting it in his hand. Sliding nearly out of me, he pulls firmly on the knot in his hand, yanking me backwards against his hips, slamming his length back into me.

“Oh, god.” The moan slips from my lips. Bracing my hands against the island counter, he pulls his hips back and yanks us together again, our thighs slapping with the violence of his thrust. One hand on my hip, pushing me away, one hand tied into the rein of his shirt, yanking me back. Each plunge feels deeper, bigger. Faster he pushes and pulls me, like a locomotive building up steam. The shirt tightens around me as he drives in. Every time he sinks, I shiver harder and harder as orgasms ripple through me. They elevate with each powerful jerk against his hips into a larger one. My arms shake with every impact. My legs feel like they’ll give out as he pistons into me.

A long moan breaks from my lips as each crest breaks higher, my body clenching around him, trying to lodge him deeper, hold him tighter.

Cymbals crash around us, and through the haze I realize it’s his phone on the table. He doesn’t falter in his manic rhythm, pounding into me, the pressure building in my limbs, an eruption drawing near in my belly.

Everything within me grows so tight that I feel like I’m suffocating. My arms weaken. My head drops below the counter. My fingers are barely clinging to the smooth surface as the staccato of our skin slapping rockets through my ears. With a low roar rumbling from his chest, I can feel his thumb work over my ass and push into me through the ring of muscle, pulling the trigger on this mass of pressure within me. Screaming, my own ears rebelling against my sounds, my body explodes as he spasms within me. Our hips jerk and twitch as rivulets of our combined release run down my legs.

Cymbals crash again.

When he withdraws, I again feel empty, but completely satisfied. How does that work?

His firm grip on the shirt is probably the only thing holding me up right now. My legs feel like noodles.

“My critters are going to be so pissed at me,” he rasps. When he loosens his hold on me, I slump against the counter trying to regain strength in my knees.

Holding his jeans up, his dick still half hard sticking out, he sits heavily in the chair next to the table. His long legs sprawl in front of him, his blond head thrown back against the wall, a small smile playing across his full lips.

Finally catching my breath, I realize I have layers of stickiness on me now. Maybe I should ask him to spray me down in the barn again. He can run the hose up and down me like he did last time, but maybe this time I can get his hands to follow. The idea of him taking me out in the barn has my belly fluttering, and it’s barely stopped quivering from a few moments ago.

“Seriously?” I hear him growl. Glancing at him again, I see his elbows are on his knees, eyes boring into me, nose flaring, a wolfish grin now on his lips. “I can smell you. What were you thinking about that has you insatiably aroused?”

Heat creeps up my cheeks. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I lean against the counter. “Well, I was thinking I need a shower, but then I was thinking about you spraying me down in the barn again, and then…” I end in a shrug and turn back to idly mess with my phone, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

Deep laughter caresses me as he stands, tucking himself back into his jeans. “I’ll be more than happy to spray you down.” He smacks me on the butt as he walks past me to the coffee maker. The light sting sends a sizzle through my body. “Or you can take a shower where the water is a bit warmer. I’m hoping one of these days, I’ll be able to take one with you, but they still kick my ass on their own.” Topping the coffee maker off with water, he flips the button and turns back to me, grinning. “Did the shower kick your ass that first day?”

I know exactly what day he’s talking about. I think the calendar has been reset, withthatday forever becoming day zero.

“Yea, it was brutal. My abdomen ached afterwards. I’ll be honest, I still struggle. I haven’t tried a bath though.”

He pulls a white wrapped package from the refrigerator and peels it open before grabbing one of the cast iron skillets hanging next to the stove. When the smell of cooking bacon hits the air, my stomach immediately starts growling.

“Damn, that smells good.” My stomach motivating me, I track down my discarded shoes and slip them on. When I crack the door outside, a blast of freezing air reminds me all I’m wearing is an oversized damp tee shirt.

“Running away before breakfast?” He laughs at my gasping.

“I have a bag in the truck,” I admit sheepishly before I sprint through the frozen grass. The crisp frost on the door handle pulls on the skin of my fingers when I open it. It’s like carrying an ice pack against my back as I dart back inside.

“You brought a bag.” His eyebrow raises over a smirk.

A shivering shrug lifts my shoulders as I prance toward the bedroom. The chill has hardened my nipples so much they ache. “I was hoping I’d need it.” Giving him the most lecherous grin I can muster, I kick off my shoes and head for the shower.

Getting the damned tangles out of my hair takes longer than the shower. Maybe it’s because I’m hurrying. The smell of bacon, eggs and coffee is physically trying to lift me up and drag me to the kitchen by my stomach.

When I make it back to the kitchen, he has a heaping plate already dished up for me. It would have fed the old me for a week. Now, I’m wondering about seconds before even starting.

“There’s plenty more.” He must be reading my mind. But, I see his plate is piled just as high when he sets it down across from me at the table.

“I started you off with black,” he says as he places a large mug of coffee next to my plate. His chair is still set away from the table. My shirt and bra from last night are still crumpled around one of its legs. He picks them up before moving his chair, handing my clothes to me with a slow grin. “But, I have cream and sugar if you want it.”

Heat moves up my neck to my cheeks and down into my belly remembering last night. I can’t stop myself from jumping up and grabbing my discarded clothes to stuff into the sleeve of my coat still hanging on the wall nearby.

His nostrils flare, his strong jaw sets a little tighter, and his hooded eyes dilate as I sit back down.

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