Page 106 of Lone Star

He kissed her neck. Sealed his lips and sucked. She’d have a mark, and she’d wear it proudly; tipped her head to the side so he could have better access.

His hands shifted over her body, restless. Down her arms, and round her waist. He petted her sides, gliding his fingers along the channels of her rib bones; weighed her breasts and squeezed her nipples until the bright little sparks of pain left her breathing out wounded sounds.

Finally, he gripped her hips, and hoisted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist on instinct; felt his clothed erection press boldly against the wet folds of her sex, the denim rasping and scraping as he ground against her.

A knife-edge, electric sort of pleasure rippled through her, mostly anticipation, and the burn of friction where they touched – and where she wanted him deeper, and more solidly; where she wantedmore.

He hiked her legs up a lighter higher, securing her, and then cupped her ass with one, steadying her, and reached between them with the other. Found her slick and ready for him. Found her entrance, and pressed right in with two large fingers.

She gasped.

His face hovered over hers, shadowed, eyes smoky dark, the pupils blown. Voice rough: “Sweet Jesus. You are such a little baby thing.” He thrust hard with his fingers, and circled her clit with his thumb, and she came in a sudden rush; a froth and tide like champagne bubbles, surprising, and hot, and mind-wiping.

He worked her through it with those clever fingers. Kissed her cheeks, and her forehead, murmuring endearments she couldn’t register, but didn’t need to. He had her, he had her.

She drifted, flushed and pulsing all over. Eventually, she became aware of the fact that she was whispering his name over and over, clutching at his shirt, clinging to him.

She couldn’t have tolerated anyone else seeing her broken open like this, shaking and vulnerable and outside herself. No one but him.

His hand withdrew, and she started to protest, but then she heard the zipper on his jeans, and a moment later the blunt head of his cock was pressing at her entrance, blood-hot and already slick where he’d been leaking. Her body was primed, but he wasbig, and she was so sensitive now, after coming.

He pressed in – and in, and in, and in. Every inch. Her body welcomed him, but it was tight, so tight, and he hissed, teeth flashing white as he bared them, as he worked his way inside. And then he was there, right there, crowding the breath from her lungs, inside her, and over her, surrounding her. Shielding her.

She wanted to touch his skin, to feel the heat and sweat of him. But when she glanced up through lids low and pleasure-heavy, she saw the raw hunger and love on his face, and he was more naked to her than he could ever be without clothes.

Michelle arched into him as best she could, heels digging his back as she shifted the angle and managed to take him even deeper.

“Christ,” he swore, pressing his face to the side of hers, breathing hotly in her ear as he started to move. “Oh, Christ, baby.”

“Give it to me,” she said. “I want it. Want to feel you.”

He groaned and clutched her hips, and he gave it to her. Almost frantic. Her head thumped faintly against the door on every powerful thrust – until he slid his other hand behind her head, protecting her, even in the throes of an almost-violent passion.

She melted. When he came – biting at her shoulder, hands spasming where they touched her – her own pleasure swelled up and overtook her again.

They clung to each other, heartbeats tangled, ribs pushing back and forth, giving and taking air.Thiswas how she loved them best. Both of them dangerous in their own rights…but raw together. It didn’t feel like a concession, being weak with him. It felt like being loved – stronger and more deeply than she’d ever hoped.

Thirty-Three

Axelle stood with her back to the showerhead, hot water pounding against her back, head tipped forward to keep her tied-up hair from getting wet. She stood, and she stared down at her toes on the tile, and she marveled at how turned on she was. “I’m gonna grab a shower,” she’d said to Albie, a few minutes before, in the common room, and the way he’dlookedat her…Like he’d nearly volunteered to come with her.

Today had been wild. It had been dangerous, and people were in the hospital…

But she’d gotten to drive. Really drive, like she’d been raised to. And then Albie had come riding in on his bike, her knight in leather armor and she…well, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been pulsing with awareness and desire like this. They’d been dancing around one another, been so careful and full of doubts. But right now, none of that mattered. Nothing mattered save the way her skin was sensitive and rippling with gooseflesh, even under the hot spray, and the way she feltemptyinside.

Finally, she turned off the water, and toweled off in front of the fogged mirror, her reflection a blur in the steam on the glass. That was good. She didn’t want to look at herself – examine herself. Didn’t want to find faults or second guess. When she was done, here, she supposed she’d venture back down the hall, and…

When she opened the door into the dorm room, she found Albie sitting on her bed.

He had his feet braced on the floor, leaning forward, forearms on his thighs. His head lifted when she entered, and his gaze very respectfully didn’t move across her bare, bath-heated arms or legs, went instead straight to her face and stayed there. What a gentleman.

“Did I overstep?” he asked. His pupils were dilated.

In a fit of rare bravery, she unwrapped her towel and let it fall. “No.”

He stood – her pulse leaped. But when his gaze stayed fixed on her face as he approached, slowly.

She couldn’t repress a smile. “Oh my God, just kiss me.”

---