Page 65 of Under Control

He entered her as she gasped. It was a wicked feeling to be filled completely by a hot, hard cock, feeling every inch of her pussy’s walls tightening around him.

He groaned in response but continued speaking, “You’ll do what I want, when I want, and I’ll take care of you, protect you. I’ll save you.” The last words seemed to escape his mouth with less force, revealing more than he’d likely intended.

“Oh my God! I’m so close, Carrick,” she squealed.

A savage noise escaped his throat in response, and he quickened his pace. Moving in and out of her, he found a new rhythm that drew shocks from her—harder, faster, rougher. He wrapped his hand around her hair, like a handle, while he used his other hand to spank her ass. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, her orgasm finally burst down her legs, drowning his thick cock in her juices.

“Come inside me,” she cried out through the lingering orgasmic feeling.

“Fuck, Dani.” He tightened his grip on her, shooting pain up her side, and she expected that bruises would be forthcoming.

But I don’t care.

All she cared about was how he was sliding up into her, pounding her, fucking her better than she’d ever hoped for. The carnal roars escaping his chest told her that he was going to come—and he was going to come hard.

“I think I’m falling for you,” she suddenly confessed, drunk in the moment.

He gasped in response, and there was an explosion of his seed inside her. He panted, trying to catch his breath, as he stood over her, his grip on her hair growing more affectionate. He ran his rough hand down her long hair, down her back, cupping and caressing her ass with care.

I’m his now.

Finally, she looked over her shoulder at him. He locked eyes with her, and the room grew silent, except for his inhalation. Sobering once again, all Danica could think about was her passionate confession.

Did he hear it?

She hoped he hadn’t.

Because it was true.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Danica

A deep heat crossed Danica’s cheeks as she took in the meaning of her confession. She ripped her gaze away from him, mortified, yet still desperate to know if he had heard her.

If he heard me, I’ve played my final cards.

Carrick was already getting to work, untying her hands and turning her around to face him. Pulling her up into his arms, he planted one delicious kiss on her mouth. When he did, she tasted her own sex and cum, making her ache for him that much more. The way he kissed her felt different from before, but she couldn’t figure out why.

He lowered his hand to her sopping wet opening and checked her. She winced as he did. Immediately, she sensed the change in him. It hurt, and he seemed to want to take care of her.

Carrick stepped back from the couch, holding her in his arms. Without hesitation, he took to the staircase, two steps at a time, and brought her to a large bathroom located on the third floor, at the front of the house. Exquisitely decorated like the rest of his home, the bathroom had the vibe of a nature spa. It was elegant, feminine—and the opposite of what she expected his style to be. It just seemed so unlike him. Expensive-looking flooring in a reclaimed wood style complemented a glittering granite countertop that was framed by ‘his and hers’ sinks. Of course, only his side of the sink was in obvious use.

Carrick carried her farther in and stopped at the big soaker tub that could easily fit two. He set her on the side of the tub and started drawing the water, hot and steamy. After pouring in Epsom salts and bubbles, he slid her glasses off, laying them on the counter. Then he placed her into the tub, leaving only the soft lights on above the sink as mood lighting. As she got comfortable in the soaker, she observed the artwork that hung on the walls—tropical, floral designs. That was when she knew…There is no way Carrick selected those pieces.

The former SEAL found his way into the tub behind her, holding her tight against his chest as he massaged her shoulders. His actions were caring and romantic…yet also very dangerous.

I need to stop this.

She should get out of the tub before she allowed herself to fall for him any further. But it was just too damn hard. Leaning back on his hard chest, she felt protected…safe. He was giving her everything to make her believe that this was real.

But he made it clear that it’s not.

He massaged her slowly and she groaned with the pleasure of his grinding knuckles working out her muscle knots. Wrapped in his arms, his rough hands working up and down on her, she could almost slip into a coma. Never before had she experienced so much pleasure at one time. She just wished it could last longer than the few nights they had. She wasn’t going to marry him. That was the most dangerous proposition of all. She needed more than just the physical side of him, but he’d made it perfectly clear that it was all she’d ever get from him.

“You’re tense.” He grumbled into her ear, driving those familiar shocks of arousal through her core. “Have I been too rough?”

He has no idea.

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