Page 54 of Tattered and Torn

She reaches for my left hand. “I want both of your hands on me.”

Jesus. This woman gives no quarter. She’s merciless. So I do as she says. I sit back on my haunches.

She takes both of my hands in hers and brings them to her chest. “Touch me.”

When my palms settle on the soft, warm mounds of her breasts, my chest tightens, and my dick starts throbbing. I’m already hard as a rock, but apparently I can get harder.

I imagine I can feel her heart pounding beneath my hands. Her eyes are wide in anticipation. Her freckled cheeks are tinged with pink. She’s excited. She wants this. She wants me.

Something snaps in me, like a dam breaking. All my guards are down, my defenses demolished. I throw caution to the wind and trust she won’t let me crash and burn.

When my mouth covers hers, she grips my hair, clutching my skull and holding me close. There’s strength in her grip. Determination. And I love that about her.

Our kiss grows heated as her hands start roaming, across my shoulders, down both of my arms. Her fingertips skate lightly over my skin, sending tingles coursing through me. When her hands settle at my waist, she pulls me closer and spreads her legs to create room for my hips.

She’s gone from zero to sixty with hardly any warning. I haven’t even made her come yet. That’s one thing I’m good at. “Don’t you want me to—”

“No. Not this time. I want to feel you inside me—now. I’m ready.” She bucks her hips up against my groin.

Normally, I make sure the woman comes before I do. It’s only right. And prudent, as I’m a big man all over. But Gabrielle seems too impatient for that right now. To be sure she really is ready, I reach between her legs and encounter pure hot silk. Oh, yeah, she’s ready.

In case I’m not getting the picture, she reaches between us and takes hold of my erection, gripping me firmly.

With a chuckle, she says, “You’d better put that condom on right now while you still can.”

I reach across the bed and grab the packets, tear one off, and rip it open with my teeth. I roll it on. “Done.”

Gabrielle takes hold of me once more and guides me to her, lifting her hips as I sink inside.

Holy fuck! I feel like I’m bathing in liquid fire. The warmth and tightness are mind blowing.

When she gasps, I pause, afraid I’ve gone too fast. The last thing I want to do is hurt her.

“No, it’s fine,” she breathes. “Don’t stop.”

I do as she says, hoping to God she’s on the level with me. Slowly, I press in, gritting my teeth at the exquisite pleasure of feeling her body slowly open for me, softening, and welcoming me in.

I blink rapidly when my eyes start burning, and it’s not until she reaches up and brushes my cheeks that I realize I’m tearing up. Damn it. Can I be any more pathetic? Angrily, I swipe at my eyes.

She catches one of my hands and brings it to her lips to kiss it. When I realize it’s my left hand she kissed, I fucking lose it.

I start thrusting, hard and fast, like I’m trying to outrun myself as well as my own fears and insecurities.

Gabrielle links our fingers and holds my hand to her chest. I brace myself with my other hand so I don’t crush her.

There’s a storm in me, fueled by long-seated anger and resentment and fear. It’s been bottled up inside me for years, and now it’s pouring out. I slam into her, thrusting harder and harder. The combination of heat from the friction of our bodies sliding together and her slick arousal feels exquisite.

Two minutes is all it takes, and then bam! I come in a blinding rush, arching my back and shouting loud enough to bring down the rafters. “Shit! I hope these walls are soundproofed.”

She laughs softly as she runs her hands up and down my spine. “I do, too. Maya lives in the apartment next to me.”

I slow my movements, dragging my cock through her silky wetness. Her flesh clings to me, as if it’s not ready to release me. “You didn’t come.” I feel like an ass.

“Next time,” she says. She sounds confident there’s going to be a next time.

A wave of gratitude flows through me. Gratitude, relief—too many emotions to process.

I carefully withdraw, peel off the condom, and slip into the bathroom across the hall to dispose of it. I’m washing my hands when she joins me, wearing my flannel shirt. Even with the sleeves rolled up to her wrists, it hangs on her. The tails hang halfway to her knees. Damn.

---