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My moan was out and about the room before I could straighten my thoughts enough to control it. I whispered, “More. Fuck, more…” And I thought there was a good chance I’d said that to myself, but then he swept me right off my feet and cradled me into his chest while he took off across the apartment to our bedroom.
I would hate myself in the morning for this. I knew it with one hundred percent accuracy. But damn, I’d feel so good getting to that miserable point again. If I couldn’t drown my unhappiness in alcohol, I could mask it with all the endorphins he would skitter through my system.
This is the last time, I swore to myself.
If I made that silent vow, I could be at peace enough mentally to enjoy fucking him. Then, on Sunday morning, while he went to church with his family—without me—I’d pack up my stuff and leave.
It was so obvious now that I couldn’t stay with the man. He was dangerous for my already precarious stability. Becoming any more dependent on him, in any way, would end in catastrophe. I’d get out now before either of us really got hurt. If I stuck around and tried this arrangement for the whole year, I’d be a shell of myself. I was already giving in to him whenever he came near me with an erection, and over time the cost would be way too steep.
He laid me on the bed like a gentle lover. Not the toss and bounce treatment I got the last time. Yet this careful, loving handling was far more unnerving. My eyes were wide and attentive as I tried to figure out his game plan. Why the change in demeanor? I definitely made it abundantly clear I liked the rougher handling.
“Wha-What are you—why are you—” I couldn’t figure out what to ask, so instead I sounded as nervous as I felt.
“Spit it out, girl.” He chuckled and slid onto the mattress alongside me. He rolled a bit so he hovered over me, and the intense look on his face was in direct opposition to his gentle touch. “Why what, baby?”
“Why are you being so—” I waved my hand between us, which basically signaled nothing.
So he caught my fingers, entwined them with his, and rested them on my abdomen.
“So what? It’s not like you to search for words, Storm. Maybe I should be asking you what’s gotten into you instead of the other way around.” He closed the space between us so slowly, I had time to worry about several things before our lips met.
Was there garlic in my food?
Should I really be allowing this physical interaction? It would just continue to confuse what’s happening between us.
What the hell is happening between us?
Carmen ran his fingers through my hair and spread the mass of it out on the pillow behind me.
“Look how stunning you are.” He shook his head while his eyes darted between the features of my face. From my wide, wild blue eyes to my eager, sometimes spiteful mouth, he studied me as though I were the rarest treasure he’d ever seen. He made me feel beautiful and sorrowful at the same time.
But I’d had enough of the emotional circus for one night. I wanted to get lost in carnal pleasure and drown in the endorphin tidal wave this man could conjure with the slightest move of his hips.
“Please. Please, Carme—” My voice cut off when he gripped a fistful of my hair just at my nape. “Aahhh…” I sighed into the dimly lit room. The pain was exquisite and centering, and I guessed he knew both those things when he gave a second tug.
“Beautiful Storm,” he whispered into my neck. “Tiny, powerful queen,” he groaned along the other side.
Uninvited tears were threatening to come if he didn’t stop with the lovely words of praise. I wasn’t used to being spoken to with such reverence or, hell, at times, even respect. He was filtering through my stability and threatening to collapse me like a California hillside after an unexpected deluge.
“Please,” I croaked one last time, and the bastard grinned down at me.
“Please what? Tell me what you want, baby. What you need,” he said in that sexy, demanding way when in the bedroom.
So, instead of words, I wriggled the best I could beneath his body weight.
“Aahh, I see. My storm wants to be fucked. Is that it?”
“Yes. Please, yes.” Those words escaped before I pressed my lips together in an effort to preserve at least some of my dignity. Because so many more thoughts were zipping around in my busy mind.
Take me away. Make me forget everything else. Punish me. Hurt me. Love me…
“Oh, baby, we’re definitely going to fuck. But I want to take my time with all this perfection. I want to savor your body, explore every inch of your silky skin. Kiss this pouty mouth,” he explained before lowering his lips closer to mine.
I closed the final space separating us and kissed him. Softly at first, getting onboard with the slow burn. I delighted in the masculine smell of his skin and the rough feel of his late-in-the-day stubble. When I swiped across his lower lip with my tongue, his groan vibrated through both our bodies.
“Mmmm, you like that?” I teased and gave his lips another taste.
“All I can picture is you doing that to my cock. It’s making me so fucking hard,” he answered and pressed his erection into my hip.
