He pulled back far enough that I could reach him completely, and seconds later, I was working on his belt.
“This dress has driven me absolutely insane all fucking night long.” He pressed a kiss to my collarbone. “This little strap of fabric right here.” He licked up the line of my neck, following the same line that my dress did. “It kept slipping slightly, showing your birthmark right here, and all I could think about was running my tongue along the spot.”
I swallowed hard, loving the way he was making me practically beg for him.
I loved the way his mouth felt like a brand as it ran along my skin.
And I sure the fuck loved how the moment his pants were zipper, button, and belt free, his cock all but sprang free, and he pressed up against me as if he couldn’t stand the feeling of being apart.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” I gasped, surprised to find soft but hard flesh ready and willing.
Goddamn, he was so willing.
“Fabric bothers me, remember?” he reminded me, nipping his teeth along the line of my jaw. “And underwear are so constrictive. The only time I wear them is when I have to run or something.”
I reached forward and touched the very tip of him just about the time that I slammed backward into the massive cedar pole holding up one corner of the large front porch.
Our breaths hissed out of us as I started to ruck the dress I was wearing higher up my legs.
The moment that I was free and exposed to him, he reached into his pocket, albeit a bit awkwardly since they were now halfway down his thighs, and produced a condom.
Glad someone was still thinking clearly.
I certainly was not.
He ripped the package open with trembling fingers, then slicked the condom down over his shaft.
“You’re adept at that,” I teased, my breaths coming in shallow breaths now. “You look like you’ve done it a thousand times.”
“Or.” He hefted me up farther onto the column, and I felt the bite of the wood against my shoulder blades. “I’ve just got an adept aptitude at dealing with my dick. Since, you know, it’s been mine for decades.”
I would’ve laughed.
He was so funny, and nerdy, and sweet.
But I couldn’t laugh when he was shoving his fat cock inside of me.
The stretch burned.
As in, I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulder blades, and my thighs tightening around his waist.
That’s when he hissed in a breath, reminding me that he’d not only been stabbed with a knife just a few days ago, but he’d broken ribs and had a bullet burn across his back. Right where my fingers were digging in.
We both froze for different reasons.
Him because he was fighting the pain, I assumed. And me, because I’d just caused him that pain.
“Are you okay?” I whispered, afraid to move and breathe.
“Fine,” he panted. “You just hit every single hurt part of my body all at once.”
I winced. “I’m sorry.”
He swallowed hard, and that’s when I saw the sweat on his face.
“We can’t do this,” I said. “Not right here.”
My dress, still bunched up over my hips, went up even higher as he pulled me down to where he wanted me to be.
I straddled his lap, settling his cock nicely between my pussy lips, but ultimately didn’t touch him anywhere else.
“Easton…” I started, but he stopped my instant denial with a rough kiss on my lips.
A rough kiss that he’d instigated by fisting my hair and pulling me to him.
It was either give him what he wanted or have him pull my hair.