Page 73 of Truck Stop Tempest

Instead of keeping my thoughts to myself, instead of sealing my fucking lips and letting her feel powerful, I kissed her and choked out a response. “You don’t need to fight. I’ll fight for you, baby.”

I couldn’t fight any longer. My body ached, deep and hot, buzzing with need. Tito was everywhere, a force of nature, surrounding me, seeping through my flesh and bones.

I’d missed him so much.

I rolled in his arms, bringing us heavy breath to heavy breath.

“I need you,” I whispered into his neck, braving a kiss, rolling my hips to bring us closer.

He ground against me in response, a low moan rumbling in his chest. “I need you, too. So fuckin’ bad.”

He was already hard. His arousal swollen and warm against my skin.

I slid a hand down his torso, then farther still, his skin tightening, muscles tensing under my touch. When I curled my fingers around his hard flesh, his body jerked in response. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, and my soul swelled with a rare, heady sense of power.

I pumped the smooth, taut skin.

Tito caught his breath.

I pumped again. He rolled into my touch, one hand cupping my ass and squeezing tight, his other hand fisting my hair.

I stroked him, from base to tip, again and again, high off the thrill, the anticipation, the desire rolling and building inside me. My bruised body ached with new cause, my wounded spirit warming and healing under the sound of his moans, his lustful breaths, his greedy lips.

Wounded, battered, weak Tuuli didn’t exist in Tito’s embrace, her fragile shell replaced with that of a woman wanted, a woman cherished, a woman worthy, unbreakable in the arms of a man like Tito.

Tito broke the kiss, his hand covering mine to halt my slow pump. Lips parted, chest heaving, eyes dark and possessive, he studied me.

I was heat, and liquid, and needy, my body arching into him, a silent plea for more.

“I need to be in control tonight, Tuuli. I need to be in charge.”

I needed him to be in charge, too.

I relaxed, ceding control. Giving myself freely, out of want, not obligation. Out of selfish desire, not stolen will.

“I was scared shitless for you tonight. Out of my fuckin’ mind. That asshole touched you. Fuck. He touched you.” His voice cracked. “I need to touch you until there’s nothing of him left. I need to be the only man touching you. Tell me you understand. Tell me you trust me.” He stared, eyes pleading, jaw clenched.

“I trust you.”

Faster than the words left my lips, Tito dropped his head and sucked a nipple between his teeth, flicking the bud with rough strokes.

I writhed beneath him, pleasure shooting through me with each tease, every suck, each draw of his tongue across the responsive skin.

He slid a hand down my waist, across my hip, and lower still, until he cupped my sex, applying pressure on the sensitive nub. He toyed, brushing soft strokes across my folds, teasing the entrance, rubbing slow circles with his palm, all the while suckling my breast in slow, aching pulls.

I tried to watch, entranced with the rolls of each carved muscle in his chest, shoulders, and arms, the heavy-lidded glaze of his eyes, the contrast of his large frame over my slight build. I tried to watch, but the pleasure slammed through me like a crashing wave, and I threw my head into the mattress, arching against his mouth, his hands, his heat.

I fisted the sheets at my sides, bucking and trembling under the overload of emotion.

His ministrations traveled down my torso, marking every inch of skin, as promised, with lips, and touches, and nibbles, and raspy exhales. Oh, God. He was undoing me, inch by inch.

Tito moved lower, peppering kisses below my navel, traveling down, down, until he pressed hot, soft lips against my sex, pausing a moment, inhaling, and then diving in, with tongue and teeth and fingers, and I lost my mind, bucking against him, then digging my heels into the mattress, my fingers into his hair.

My body coiled, tense and on the cusp of shattering, my hips rolling, grinding against his mouth. I was a woman possessed, chasing my release, greedy, and strong, and taking what I wanted, fucking the mouth of my lover, demanding he take me over the edge.

When I came, when that moment of all-consuming bliss struck, I arched off the bed. Tito wasn’t finished. He cupped my ass, digging into the soft flesh, holding my pussy to his mouth, and he sucked harder, unrelenting, until I cried, rasping, yes, yes, yes, tearing his hair, holding him between my thighs while he devoured my pleasure. When I couldn’t take anymore, when I tried to back away from his eager mouth, he stilled, pressing his lips to me, his tongue moving in slow pulses, holding me still, holding me together while I rode the wave of tremors.

I slumped—drained and sated and breathless—into the mattress. Tito curled his arms around my waist, laid his cheek against my pelvis, and held me, his head rising and falling with my heavy breaths. He held me until my heart rate slowed, and that vibrant pulse between my thighs dulled to a slow throb.

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