Page 20 of Almost Us

“I’m going to come if you keep doing that.”

His chuckle is dark, and his finger stops. Before I can protest, he slips it inside me and strokes over the perfect spot. “How about if I do this?”

“Oh fuck.” My body lights up fever hot, but it’s not enough. “Please.” He works another finger into me and drives me closer to the edge. Any self-control I may have had is long gone. All I can think about is the desperate need for more. “Oh, please,” I repeat.

“What are you begging for, Ella?” He removes his fingers, and his cock prods at me. “This?” He rubs the thick head against my opening.

He pulls back a little when I push my ass toward him in an attempt to fill that aching emptiness. “Yes!”

“All of it?” The tinge of amusement in his voice is infuriating. If I turned around, I’m sure I’d see a wicked smile.

“Yes, damn it.”

My last word comes out as a sharp cry when he buries his cock in one firm thrust. Oh fuck. Fuck, it pinches and burns and feels so good my entire body seems to spasm. He lets out a groan, grabs my hips and presses into me harder.

He leans over me and nips my earlobe. “Say you’re okay, Ella, because I’m going to fuck you good and hard.”

My body is screaming for it, and I squirm against him. “God, yes, hurry up.”

The words sound snotty and impudent, full of impatience. Not exactly sexy, but all it elicits from him is a growl. He jerks my hips back far enough to shove a pillow between my body and the wooden edge of the dresser. The sudden withdrawal of his cock stings and makes me draw a quick breath through my teeth.

A sharp crack is followed by an intense burn on my ass cheek. “Get your hands back where I put them,” he orders, delivering an equal burn to the other cheek.

“Fuck me then!” We’ve never been so short with each other, but it’s hot as fuck. I grab the edge of the dresser.

He wraps his hand in my hair and pulls my head up. “Are you mad, Ella, hmm? Join the fucking club.” His breath is in my ear again. “I’m going to give you what we both need, but if you can’t take it, just yell stop.”

His words only piss me off more. They sound like a challenge. “I can take it.”

He releases my hair, grabs my waist and pushes his cock inside of me. Instantly withdrawing, he drives it in a little harder, making me cry out. It feels so damn good. It’s all the warm-up I get before hard, steady thrusts steal every thought in my head.

I can feel his frustration and anger. It wars with my own while I slam back into him with equal vigor, keeping up with his punishing pace. The orgasm that’s been circling since he told me to bend over builds fast and strikes hard. My cry echoes around the room. He never misses a stroke. I can already tell another one won’t be long behind. Every nerve in my body is on fire, twitching, ready to light up again.

I shift my body to glance back at him. His hair is damp at the temples, flattened to his skull. His expression is intense, focused. Blazing eyes skip across mine for a second. “Where did I tell you to keep those hands?”

If the sight of him so passionate and feral wasn’t enough to hasten that second orgasm, his next move is. He grabs my hands and pins them to the small of my back. My first reaction is to try to free them, but jerking my arm does nothing. He’s strong.

A guttural sound of aggravation escapes me. We’re both losing control. My anger isn’t aimed at him any more than his is directed at me, but we’ve both been through too much. Held back so many pent-up emotions. We’ve bent and bent. Something had to break.

Every ounce of anger and frustration thrashing in my brain is doused, then drowned by the crashing orgasm that buries everything other than pure, rippling pleasure. I hear myself shout but there are no decipherable words in it.

My hands are suddenly free, and fingers dig into my hips. The noise he makes when he buries his cock deep inside of me and becomes still is short, but sharp.

For what seems like forever, the only sound in the room is our heavy breathing. Finally, he pulls out of me, and I stand up. I’m at a loss for what to say or how to feel. The man fucked the absolute hell out of me.

I need a minute. I also need the bathroom so it’s a great excuse to get a moment to myself.

After a quick clean up, I do my best not to crawl into my own head like I tend to do. This time, I’m not going to feel guilty. We needed each other. It was as simple as that.

When I stride out naked, Oliver watches me while I put on underwear and a tee shirt. He’s already pulled on a pair of shorts.

Why does this have to feel so heavy? So awkward?

He’s waiting for me to regret it. His tongue peeks out to wet his lips when I approach him. His dark eyes shine. When I step up to him, he pulls me into his arms. “Ella.” The emotion in his voice makes me want to cry.

“Share the bed with me?” I murmur against his shoulder.

He lets me go, tilts my chin up and places a tender kiss on my lips. “Are you okay?”

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