Page 60 of Fierce

One hand came up to wrap around my wrists, and my excitement surged again at the feeling of him holding me there. His hard fingers closed over my breast, began to flick over the nipple, and I moaned. With a single thrust, he was inside, and I cried out. Not with pleasure this time. With something very much like pain.

He was on his elbows, holding still for a long minute, and I could tell what an effort it cost him. And then, finally, he began to move. So slowly, so carefully, and gradually, it began to feel…warm. To feel good. Every slide sent echoes through every bit of sensitized flesh, and the tingle was starting up again.

When he felt me moving with him, he began moving faster, and that was even better, the tingles centralizing, becoming a pulse, a hum. A hard thrust, a slow withdrawal, a teasing pause while I squirmed and tried to hurry him. Every inch of him setting up residence, letting me know he was there to stay, and I couldn’t believe I’d thought he was too big. He wasn’t too big. He was perfect.

When he reached a hand down to grab my thigh and shove it up, I stiffened again. But when he wrapped his arm around the inside of my knee so my thigh was pinioned all the way up by my head, I understood. And when he did it on the other side, had me pulled up tight, was driving so deep, I’d started to sing out again. I was yanking desperately against my restraints, trying to get closer, knowing I was too noisy, but completely unable to help myself, because this was it. This was all there was. And then he laced his fingers through mine again and held me down, and I exploded.

Again and again, convulsing around the delicious friction, the pressure that filled me so completely. Getting all of him, so deep, so hard. Getting everything. And Hemi shuddering, swearing, low and dirty and so thrilling, seeming to grow even larger inside me, until I really didn’t think I could take it.

“Yes,”he groaned. “Yes.”

He was there, and I knew how much he’d needed to be, and that I’d done that.

“Wow,” I finally managed to say when Hemi had untied my hands and pulled me to lie against his chest. I was still a little shaky, and he ran his hand over my hair, down my back, his touch soothing me. “Who knew it would feel like that? I definitely needed to be reading some better books.”

I heard his low chuckle, and he was pulling the comforter up over us, settling me more comfortably against him. My hand came out to stroke the broad planes of his chest, and I wanted to touch him more, to feel him in the way he’d denied me tonight, but I was so sleepy.

“Well, to be fair,” he said, sounding a little drowsy himself, or maybe just completely relaxed, completely unlike Hemi, “it’s not usually that good. I think that was you.”

That woke me up. “Really? I was…OK?”

“Yeh.” His fingers twined around a lock of my hair. “You could say that. Or you could say that you were bloody brilliant. How many times can you come?”

His words had set up a lovely little glow, but I was still able to be embarrassed, too, even after everything we’d done. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had enough time to…to tell. Like you said. But everybody does that. Don’t they?”

I felt the vibration of his low laugh all the way through my body. “Nah. They don’t. But it’s good.” He was stroking my thigh now, his hand moving over the curve of my bottom, and that tingle was right back. “Feeling sore?” he asked. “Inside?”

“A little,” I admitted, flexing my legs and feeling the protest from my tender flesh.

“We’ll take it easy tomorrow, then. Work you up to it.”

“Work me up to it?” I levered myself off his chest to stare down at his face. His eyes were warm, and for once, there was an actual smile curving his lips. “How much more are you planning to do?”

“Oh, baby.” The smile grew. “So much more. So very much more.”

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