Page 28 of Crazy Love
We kiss with our eyes open at first, and I fall deep into the hearts of his pupils. When his fingers push into me, though, I close my eyes and drown in the darkness.
“Your cunt’s not wet,” he claims in his gravel roughened voice. “It’s sopping.” He continues to stroke me with his clever fingers. He hasn’t even touched my clit yet and I’m already little more than a sack of mush. When he does stroke me there, if he does, I’m probably going to come right away. On tenterhooks, I await that moment, shivers coursing through my body, and my skin alive with tingles.
“Open your legs for me. Let me give you what you crave.”
I want to, but my legs are like jelly, the knees ready to buckle.
“You’re not concerned about Knox, are you?”
Knox? I’d forgotten he existed.
Darke turns to his comatose friend, and wrenches the shower curtain across the side of the bath, blocking Knox from sight. Then he turns back to me, face full of merry devilment.
“Up,” he demands and lifts me so my butt is balanced on the edge of the counter. Then he’s on his knees, his head buried between my thighs, kissing me through the no-frills cotton.
He hooks my legs over his shoulders, and I push my hands into the dark, glossy strands of his hair. Even through the cotton, the sensation is almost too raw. I’m on the edge of panic. I guess he senses it because he keeps his touch super light. My clit is so hard and needy it’s poked up out of its protective hood so that even the lightest touch is borderline painful.
“Shh! Easy now,” he says, blowing on me.
A breath of air has never caused me to tumble before, but it sets me off, and I come against his face, pulse thundering, my world reduced to the thunder and stars inside my own head.
My knickers are sopping when my vision is restored. Darke pulls them from me, exposing the bright pink folds of my swollen pussy to his view. He licks me until I’m shiny with his saliva instead of my own juices, then pushes two stiff fingers inside of me and tests my limits. Excitement builds inside my cells again, almost at once, so that my hips jig of their own accord, matching the steady rhythm with which he finger fucks me.
My pussy is so wet that the action makes sticky sounds.
“Ready for something a little thicker?”
“Hnnrr!” I whimper, because apparently I’ve lost the ability to form words.
“I want to hear you say it. I want you order me to thrust my cock into you. To do it over and over, harder and faster. I want to hear you shouting out how good it is.”
What I need is to feel him first of all. I drag him upwards off his knees, so that his buff, raw and sexy body is plastered against mine, and he’s smearing my own juices all over my mouth and chin.
I make short work of his belt, don’t bother with the buttons or zip, just drag down his low-rise jeans so that I can curl my fingers first into his arse, and then wrap a hand around his long, stiff cock.
He croaks as I handle him. I rub the tip of him against my clit, which about makes us both lose our minds.
“Condoms,” I breathe heavily into his ear. “I need you inside of me.”
“Inside your cunt?” I’m not sure if it’s a statement or if he’s asking for clarification. I only know that I’m desperate. “Ask me properly. Say, ‘Please shove your cock inside my cunt and fuck me until the earth moves.’”
The words gather at the back of my throat, but don’t quite make it to my lips.
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asks, turning me on with the hiss of his voice in addition to the driving rage he’s using to fill me with his finger. I’m not sure what his anger is directed at, me, Knox, something else, but I can feel it buzzing away inside of him beneath his skin. “You don’t just want this,” he says of his fingers. “You want my cock in your hungry cunt. Say it.”
Cunt—every time he says it, I shiver in a hopelessly deplorable way.
Cunt—it has such a hard, ruthless ring to it. It’s impolite. Every time it rolls off his tongue, a little part of me protests while the rest threatens to overheat. It’s not a word I ever use in conversation, but fact—the way Nathaniel Darke makes it sound turns me on.
“Say it, Loveday. You want my cock in your pretty, sopping wet cunt, and you want me to fuck you to kingdom come.”
My cheeks burn, but I do as he asks. I hear myself whisper it. If whispers are things you holler loud enough to wake the dead. I babble, telling him that I want him in my mouth, my cunt, my arse, anywhere he’ll take me, anywhere he’ll have me. Maybe everyplace all at once, but mostly I tell him to fuck me hard, to not hold back and to make me feel it, because that’s what he does. He makes me want him, even though I know it’s every kind of stupid to entangle myself with him and will cause holy hellfire if Jessie and Ivy find out.
I guess he’s in a similar boat on that score, Paradise Kiss aren’t going to be anymore thrilled to find him balls deep inside of me than my Bitch Slap sisters are.
Not that those facts stop us. Some things are just meant to be. It doesn’t matter how wrong they are, not when they feel so incredibly right.
Nathaniel Darke on the verge of screwing me senseless feels incredibly right, like I was born to live this moment.
