Page 108 of Lesson In Forgiveness

Throwing caution to the wind, she gave him what he wanted. Focusing on the fullness of his lips, the shape of his mouth, the scratch of his short beard against her skin, she kissed him as though the clock turned back twenty years and she didn’t have over two decades’ worth of trauma weighing her down.

He swallowed her gasp of shock as he eased out until his crown was barely inside her, then pushed in deep again. She whimpered under her breath, unsure how to handle the sensations spiking through her.

Grit rode her carefully, his chuckle rumbling in her ear when her attention diverted away from kissing him onto… hell, everything else. The rock of his body over hers, how his pelvis nudged her wider with every thrust, the way his cock seemed to brand her as it claimed her over and over again.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“N-Not yet.”

His growl of disapproval made her clench down on him on an instroke, turning it into a groan of pure, male bliss. Touching his forehead to hers, he murmured, “It won’t; you’re safe here. Relax and give your body some room to play, Tabitha. Let it move naturally.”

She couldn’t move at all—she was sandwiched firmly between the firm mattress and Grit’s considerable weight. Maybe she could shift her legs to try to alleviate some of the ache, but all that did was lift her hips and…

Oh.

A little switch in her head flicked off just as it dawned on her that this was what he wanted her to discover; she didn’t have to lay passively, blindly counting down the seconds until the cock inside her kicked and spurted. There was no reason to lock herself away from this—her lover was miles apart from her father in so many ways, she couldn’t count them all.

As her thoughts went silent, her body took over. Hips rising to meet the long, languid strokes of his cock. Falling away when he withdrew. In and out, unhurried and painless.

Anxious whimpers became throaty moans. The stiffness of her muscles flowed into the submission he demanded. The first stirrings of pleasure overrode everything else but the lazy pace of his shaft filling her, leaving her empty, filling her all over again.

“Good girl. Gonna find that sweet spot with my cock, little tiger. The one that makes your toes curl and this gorgeous fucking pussy tighten like a snare.” Hunger flared in his eyes without malice. “I want to feel it around my cock, Tabitha. Feel you milk me, squeeze me, as you come. Need to hear it more.”

Tabitha shuddered, canting her pelvis to meet his next thrust without thinking about it. A flush of wetness drenched her core, sparked by his words and the sudden shock of his crown striking the upper wall of her vagina, gliding over that magic spot too fleetingly.

“There, huh?” With a pleased hum, he latched his mouth onto the place on her neck that connected straight to her core, sucking in long pulls until her knees began to shake.

Flesh slapped on flesh, the sound wet and obscene. She supposed it was better than listening to her own muffled cries as she tried to suppress them, biting her tongue until there was as much blood in her mouth as there was leaking from between her legs.

Grit shifted up a gear, driving into her harder, faster. Rolling his hips when he was balls deep inside her, grinding against her clit. The grip on her wrists flexed, the suction on her neck grew stronger until she began to throb—head to toe, under her skin, in her head, and in her womb.

Breath coming in pants, she arched, stifling a cry as an orgasm gathered in her center, growing teeth by the second. She tilted her head, giving him greater access to her neck, trying to pull her hands free so she could touch him, hold on to him.

The bedframe began to squeak in time with his thrusts.

Control was written all over his face, concentration marring his brow. He pounded into her with calculated force, hitting her G-spot with precision, leveraging himself up on his elbows for a better angle, fixing his gaze squarely on her. “Come, little tiger.”

Skin slid over skin, slickened by sweat.

Breath twined with breath, quickened and warm.

Everything coiled inside her, tightening to the point of pain before her pussy spasmed around his cock, wave upon wave of bliss washing through her. It dragged on and on, nurtured by the steady rhythm of his cock, until the dying dregs of pleasure started to ignite a second time.

“I can’t. No, I can’t. Not again.”

“Hell yes, you’re doing it again.” Dominance, pure and unadulterated, underscored his voice. His breathing was heavier; the motion of his body tightly controlled. “Again and again until I hear you scream, little tiger. I’m not coming until you do.”

She squirmed restlessly, whining in frustration. Her thighs were trembling with the effort of cradling Grit’s hips, absorbing the impact. She was sore and aroused, high on an unexpected rush of dopamine so strong she felt as though her blood was soaring.

The rhythm altered suddenly like a slap to the face. Those long, hard strokes became short and powerful, fucking into her faster than the last. It was an assault on her clit, her G-spot, on every erogenous zone she possessed.

He rode her ruthlessly, hammering her into the mattress. Pushing her back over the edge, wrenching a yelping cry from her, he didn’t stop until she screamed his name, arching beneath him, her pussy strangling his cock as he plunged deep and came with a satisfied groan.

Spaced out and breathless, Tabitha went limp. Quivering fitfully, she wheezed in several frantic breaths, concentrating on a bead of sweat sliding down Grit’s temple. It blurred, her vision wavering with shock and exhaustion.

“That’ll do, little tiger. That’ll do.” Brushing his lips over her cheek, he remained perfectly still, probably enjoying the flutter of her muscles around his softening dick. “Still with me?”

She nodded tiredly. “Yes, Sir.”

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