Page 105 of Nothing More

She pinched his chin lightly between her fingertips, pleased, hopeful when he didn’t try to pull away, and leaned down to kiss him. Slow, slow, easy, lips just flirting, none of the bite and rush of before. She tilted her head one way, and then the other, teasing at the seam of his lips with the very tip of her tongue. Giving him a chance to react:what do you want? How can I convince you that this is alright? That it’sgood.

Time turned molasses-slow, gummy and crawling and uncertain. Raven started to pull back, sinking feeling in her stomach, disappointment turning the inside of her mouth sour; a sensation almost like loss.

But then his hand slid through her hair to cup the back of her head and hold her to him. His lips parted, and he kissed her back, still slow, as she’d started things, but deeper. Sticky and purposeful.

A flood of relief washed through her, followed by a second round of molten want. A surge of victory, as well.

When he moved as if to roll her onto her back, she pushed up off his chest, their lips parting with asmack. “Not this time,” she said, firmly, and swung a leg over his hips.

His head pressed back into the pillow, eyes glittering black, wider than she’d seen them as she sat up, hands spread on his chest. She watched his pupils blow in real time; saw his pulse throbbing in the hollow of his throat. His tattoos rippled as his arms tensed, as his hands dropped to her hips and squeezed hard, digging fresh fingertip bruises to overlay the ones he'd left before, faded to yellow-green.

In every drawn-taut inch of him, she saw the way he wanted to wrest control from her. But he held still, hands spasming on her hips.

She grinned, and allowed it to go wicked. “Good boy,” she told him, stood his hard cock up, and sank down onto it in one slow drop.

His eyes snapped shut, and his head tilted further. Even as she was swamped with the wonderful sensation of being filled, all her over-sensitive nerves sparking and shimmering, she got caught up in the sight of the tendons standing out in his throat, the way his jaw clenched tight. His blunt nails dug crescents into her hips, and he bucked up, once, an involuntary twitch that nearly tossed her off.

She gripped his pectorals, pale and tattooed skin alike denting beneath her nails. She ground down onto him, slow circles with her hips, and watched his nostrils flare, heard the choked-back sound in his throat, half-growl, half-whine.

“Oh, poor dear,” she crooned, breathless herself. “You haven’t the faintest idea what to do with praise, do you?”

A jolt moved through him; she felt it in the flex of his fingers, and the tensing of his thighs beneath her bottom, the strain of his chest under her hands. Felt it in the stir of his cock, deep inside her, sparking off lightning zings of pleasure as he hit her just right. God. Oh, she…but no.Danger, that jolt said. She bit her lip, and tried not to lose her head, even though it felt wonderful. Tried to gather her wits, and recognize what she’d done.

His eyes snapped back open, the gleam in them feral, sizzling with intention.

Fear licked up her spine, but too late to react, as he jacknifed upright, and caught her face in both hands.

Raven froze. Gasped. Her sex throbbed – her whole body throbbed, as he shoved his face in close to hers, until their noses nearly touched, his breath warm and smoky across her lips, his gaze feverish.

“Shh, shh, shh,” he murmured, and she realized she was making a quiet, frightened sound. She cut it off, as his thumbs traced her cheeks, her lips, a delicate touch, as though mapping her face, at odds with the wildness of his eyes. “Do you think I would hurt you?” Strange voice, one she hadn’t heard from him before, half-soothing, half-hurt, as though he didn’t like that she might doubt him. That she might not feel safe.

She was only startled. And so turned on she thought she might swoon.

Her hands were still on his chest, and she slid them up until they framed his throat, so strong and masculine and unlike her own. His pulse slammed against her palm, as hectic as her own.

She countered with a question of her own. “Do you not like giving up control?”

His gaze dropped to her lips, lashes enviably long.

“Or,” she went on, panting a little, thumbs rubbing up and down, over and over on the apple of his throat, “are you not used to it?”

He swallowed, hard jerk against her thumb pads.

“That’s not usually how it works, is it?” she pressed. “Not in the bratva. Not in the club. The man’s always in control, isn’t he?”

His gaze lifted. Glassy-eyed. He looked almost drunk, color high in his cheeks. “I dunno.” Voice gone guttural, full of gravel, of strain. “I don’t ask…and I don’t ever sleep with a woman more than once.”

That surprised her. He was good in bed, knew what he was doing. And certainly, even if the boys in the club didn’t have old ladies, they had favorites. Lean Bitches, side pieces, whatever they called them. They hadsomethinglike routine.

His cock twitched again inside her, and all her insides turned to sweet, warm jelly. God, he was precious, even if he was trying to play the Big Man.

She leaned in to kiss him, and he let her, hands still spanning the hinge of her jaw. She slipped her tongue between his lips, traced his teeth, licked the taste of Marlboro Reds off his tongue. He let her, pliant, not submissive, no, never that, butallowing. Softening.

Raven slipped her hands up into his hair, and gripped it tight. It was silk-soft, slicker and finer than her own. She let the kiss turn messy, until she could slide damp lips along his cheek, stubble prickling at her, and whisper in his ear. “Do you want me to ride you, darling?” She emphasized the question with an intentional clench around his cock, and heard the breath leave his lungs in a rush. “I promise I’m good at it. I had a pony when I was a girl.”

The rumble in his throat might have been a groan, or a chuckle, or a blend of both. He gripped her hair in return, steady pressure at her nape until she caught the hint and pulled back far enough to meet his gaze. He looked half-gone already, unfocused, lost to it. But he wasn’t the sort who overwhelmed easily. He wet his lips and said, “Yeah. Ride me.” His arms went around her, though, holding her close on his lap. “Like this.” One hand skimmed down the small of her back, over her arse, playing at the cleft and grinding her even deeper on his cock. “Just like this.”

It was a challenge, the way all their sex had been.

---