Page 53 of Night in a Waste Land

He gave it to her, fingers pressing more insistent, dipping down, spreading the wetness that welled there. “I can fuck you,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I can make it good for you.” His index finger found her entrance, and pressed in.

“Oh.” This was what she’d wanted – what she needed. The slow, delicious stretch as he slipped in inch by inch. All the way in to the knuckle, and then a clever flex of his finger that left her gasping.

She wanted more, though.

“Come on,” she whispered. “I’m ready. You don’t have to” – another flex – “be so careful.”

He shifted his face so he could kiss her, another heated coupling of lips and tongues as he pressed in with a second finger. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

But he prepped her anyway, gently insistent, until he was three fingers in, and she was all but writhing in his lap. “Lance.”

“Alright, alright.” He tipped her back across the bunk, cupped the back of her head and set it gently down on his pillow, like she was something fragile and precious. That little act, and the look in his eyes, nearly undid her. She couldn’t handle tenderness; she wanted him to be rough, to turn loose of all the pent-up ardor she felt rippling beneath his skin.

“Please,” she said, and heard the desperation in her voice. “Lance, I can’t –please.”

He looked nearly pained, just a second. A flash of longing and hurt that she didn’t want to think about. But then he spread her thighs, and settled between them, and his gaze was hot and devouring as it skimmed across her body.

“Look at you.” He smoothed his hands up her belly, and cupped her breasts. “You’re gorgeous.” He wet his lips, and she feared he would lean down to kiss her breasts, to play with them some more. He wanted to go slow; he liked foreplay, and now wasn’t the time for that.

Biting back a huff of annoyance, she sat up, and gripped his cock.

“Shit.”

“You’re very romantic, and it’s very sweet–” she started.

His gaze snapped up to hers, and the flare of heat in his eyes rendered her silent. He put a hand to the base of her shoulder, and pushed, though gently, until she’d lied back down. He kept his hand there, over her hammering pulse, and kept his gaze locked with hers, as he smoothed his other hand down the inside of her thigh, spreading her wider. As he let his cock drag through the wetness along her folds, teasing her. The blunt head pressed at her entrance – and then pressed in.

He was big, but it didn’t hurt. The stretch and pressure freed up something inside her, something packed-down and clawing and raging. Her breath left her lungs on a harsh scrape, and she felt the heated rush of his breath as he bottomed out, and they were locked together.

“We’ll do it your way tonight,” he gritted out. “But it’s my turn to set the pace next time.”

God. She pulsed around him. Heat flooded her stomach.

He dropped down over her, braced on his arms, and started to move. Pulled nearly all the way out, a slow drag, and thenthrustback in again. He did it again, again; put his face in her throat and breathed raggedly there while he picked up a rhythm – brutal and fast, just like she’d wanted.

Rose dug her nails into his biceps, locked her legs around his waist, and held on for dear life.

She’d known he was strong, but now she could feel it. In every flex of his biceps, and hips, and back. It was good the bunk was cast plastic bolted to the wall, because a real bed with a headboard would have rattled and banged against the wall. She could feel him deep inside her, sparks crowding her vision, lighting up her nerves every time he hitthatplace, each time he was buried to the hilt and his hips slapped bruises against the insides of her thigh.

It was good. So good. Pleasure wound with painful tightness in her belly. She was making little wounded sounds with each relentless thrust, struggling to meet him stroke for stroke, pinned down by his weight above her.

So good, so good…

Release slammed into her. Hard, wrenching spasms that left her shuddering and gasping. She closed her eyes and tried – and failed – to catch her breath as he thrust a few more times, and then tensed up and came with a low moan. Her sex gripped him, pulsed around him, as the heat of his release spilled inside her.

Thank God for department-mandated IUDs.

His arms gave out, and for a handful of seconds, he lay full atop her, heavy and crushing. Not that it mattered; she couldn’t breathe anyway.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Oh, God, oh…oh…”

He pushed up again, so he hovered over her on shaking arms, his face a wrung-out blur above hers.

“Rose?” His brows drew together. He reached with one hand and touched her face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Her voice came out choked. Lance’s hand, she saw as he withdrew it, caught the light, his fingertips wet.

---