Wanted
Page 48
He traced his fingertip over my nipple, then over my lips, then gently slid inside my mouth as I sucked, the digit mimicking the thrusts of his cock.
“Call it whatever the hell you want,” he continued. “But I promise you that pleasure is the goal. I’m not interested in hurting you. I’m not interested in punishing you. I’m only interested in pleasing you.”
He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. “You do,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can’t have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you’re going away. I need to know that you’ve surrendered to me.”
“I have. I will.” Hell, right then I’d do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.
He didn’t, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.
He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. “I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too.”
“I do,” I said. “I want it.”
He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”
I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, “Oh, baby.” And then I felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. “Say it like you mean it,” he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.
“I want it,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung—though I’d even go so far as to say they hurt—I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more—hell, I wanted everything.
He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. “What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”
“Keep going,” I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. “Please, do it.”
He answered with another sharp smack. “Tell me again what it is you want?”
“I want you to spank me.” I want you to fuck me.
“Tell me what you want.” Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. “Tell me,” he repeated, his words followed by another spank.
“You. I want you, Evan. I’ve always wanted you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I’d revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.
“I have to have you now, Lina. I can’t last another second of not being inside you.”
I tried to say yes, but it wasn’t necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn’t have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.
He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.
He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he’d reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.
I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.
“Evan.” I said his name like a prayer.
He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.
“Lina,” he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn’t entirely sure that he’d meant for me to hear it.
Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.
I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.
I closed my eyes, and his soft, “You’re wonderful,” was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.
fifteen
“I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me,” I whispered, as I woke in Evan’s arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.
“I’m glad.” He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. “I don’t like that you’ve ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They’re not real, you know. They’re survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don’t have to feel guilty for being alive.”
“I don’t,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Not because I’m alive.” I sucked in air. “It’s because she shouldn’t have even been out of the house that night.”
I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn’t actually certain I was making sound. I’d never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself—that I shouldn’t build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks—the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.
“I’d been sneaking out a lot,” I continued. “Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn’t. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business.”
“But that night she followed you?”
“And that was the night they took her.” My voice broke on a sob. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t even know she’d followed me until the next morning when she wasn’t in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she’d snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood.” I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. “I never told anyone.”
“Call it whatever the hell you want,” he continued. “But I promise you that pleasure is the goal. I’m not interested in hurting you. I’m not interested in punishing you. I’m only interested in pleasing you.”
He slid his finger out of my mouth, and I took that as permission to speak. “You do,” I whispered.
“It’s going to be rough, baby, but I promise it will feel good. But I can’t have you any other way. Not after wanting you for so damn long. And not now that I know you’re going away. I need to know that you’ve surrendered to me.”
“I have. I will.” Hell, right then I’d do or say anything just to feel him moving inside me some more.
He didn’t, though. Instead, he slid out of me, and I actually whimpered with disappointment.
He laughed, then held out his hands for me, helping me up until I was kneeling on the bed in front of him. “I want to know that until the day you leave this city, I have claimed you for my own. Now tell me that you want it, too.”
“I do,” I said. “I want it.”
He slid off the bed and stood facing me. Then he made a circular motion with his finger. “Turn around. Bend over. Palms flat on the bed.”
I opened my mouth to ask why, realized that was an idiotic question, and complied. I heard his low intake of breath, then his soft, “Oh, baby.” And then I felt the sharp sting of his palm against my rear, followed by the pressure of his palm rubbing away the prickles of heat that had bloomed from the contact. “Say it like you mean it,” he said, and now there was nothing soft about his voice.
“I want it,” I repeated, then squeezed my eyes closed as another spank caught me across the ass. His blows were hard, and though they stung—though I’d even go so far as to say they hurt—I understood what he meant about the pleasure. My breasts felt heavy, my nipples tight, my sex tingling and wet. I wanted more—hell, I wanted everything.
He rubbed my ass in firm, slow circles as he leaned in close. “What do you want, Lina? Do you want me to stop? Or do you want me to keep going?”
“Keep going,” I said, close to whimpering just from the thought that he might stop. “Please, do it.”
He answered with another sharp smack. “Tell me again what it is you want?”
“I want you to spank me.” I want you to fuck me.
“Tell me what you want.” Another spank. I flinched, spreading my legs just a little. My ass was on fire, and oh, dear god, so was the rest of me. I wanted him inside me, and I was very quickly reaching the point where begging would be involved. “Tell me,” he repeated, his words followed by another spank.
“You. I want you, Evan. I’ve always wanted you.” I squeezed my eyes shut, afraid I’d revealed too much. But Evan just moaned in satisfaction, as if my words had been as sweet to him now as my mouth on his cock had been earlier.
“I have to have you now, Lina. I can’t last another second of not being inside you.”
I tried to say yes, but it wasn’t necessary. I tried to turn over, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands were on my hips, and he tugged me back so that my knees were closer to the edge of the bed. I felt his cock rub against me, sliding against my desire-slick sex. I spread my legs in silent need, arching up in both invitation and demand. In another moment I would have found my voice and begged, but I didn’t have to, because he used his grip on my hips to pull me toward him even as he thrust forward.
He entered me in one long, deep stroke, and I cried out from the combination of pleasure and pain. He was ripping me apart with every thrust, shattering me, breaking me. He was utterly destroying me, and yet nothing had ever felt so perfect as the sensation of this man inside me. With each thrust he took me higher. With each soft moan he brought us closer.
He leaned over me, his hips moving in a steady rhythm. I worked in tandem with him, and when our bodies were in sync, he released my hips. At first I mourned the loss of contact. Then I realized that he’d reached underneath us, one hand going to stroke my clit and the other clutching tight to my breast as he slammed into me over and over and deeper and deeper until I finally spiraled off into the heavens with Evan holding on tight.
I was still soaring, my vision barely returning, when his orgasm rocked us both. He exploded inside me, holding me tight as he released himself into me.
“Evan.” I said his name like a prayer.
He held me like that for a moment, his body draped over mine, one arm around me and the other keeping him balanced over me. I felt him grow soft inside me and I felt the gentle kisses he trailed down my spine.
“Lina,” he murmured, but the sound was so soft I wasn’t entirely sure that he’d meant for me to hear it.
Finally, he pulled out, then gathered me into his arms as if I weighed no more than a kitten. Then he brushed a kiss over my lips.
I was sleepy now, completely drained, and I clung to him as he took me into the bathroom and cleaned us both up. Then he carried me back to the bed, got in beside me, and pulled me close.
I closed my eyes, and his soft, “You’re wonderful,” was the last thing I heard before I slipped over to sleep.
fifteen
“I don’t have nightmares when you’re with me,” I whispered, as I woke in Evan’s arms to the soft pre-dawn glow filling the sky outside the windows.
“I’m glad.” He stretched, coming easily awake. His fingers stroked my hair. “I don’t like that you’ve ever had them at all. I wish I could erase them. They’re not real, you know. They’re survival guilt, baby. I get that you miss your sister, and I understand that the way she was taken from you was damned horrific, but you don’t have to feel guilty for being alive.”
“I don’t,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Not because I’m alive.” I sucked in air. “It’s because she shouldn’t have even been out of the house that night.”
I spoke in a whisper, my voice so low I wasn’t actually certain I was making sound. I’d never told this to anyone but Jahn. And though part of me screamed that I needed to keep this to myself—that I shouldn’t build bridges when I was just going to burn them in three weeks—the truth was that I felt safe and warm with Evan. And, more important, I knew that he was strong enough to hold whatever load I piled onto him.
“I’d been sneaking out a lot,” I continued. “Meeting friends to get drunk and smoke cigarettes and do idiot shit, you know? And Grace had been covering for me even while she tried to get me to stop. But I didn’t. She was always so perfect. The brilliant and beautiful oldest daughter, and I was such a fuckup, and I told her she needed to mind her own business.”
“But that night she followed you?”
“And that was the night they took her.” My voice broke on a sob. “I didn’t see it. I didn’t even know she’d followed me until the next morning when she wasn’t in her room and then they found her body and no one could understand why she’d snuck out of the house. Except for me. I understood.” I met his eyes, sure that mine were filled with guilt and shame. “I never told anyone.”
