Page 52 of Bad At Love

Asmile cut through the lust etched on DP’s face, making him look so painfully gorgeous that her heart, still struggling with the comedown, thumped weakly in her chest. His lips were damp from her arousal, his pupils blown wide. Thick hair mussed by her fingers. And his shoulders carried the crescent divots from her nails.

A little thrill shot through her.

For a second, her imagination worked at sonic speed, seeing all the years stretching ahead of them and all the delicious delights she and DP could unlock together.

She let her gaze move down from his corded neck to his chest, liberally sprinkled with hair, and then that barrel of a stomach. From the splintered heap of her desire rose the fresh urge to sink her teeth into him. Then she’d follow the thick line of hair down to her prize. As if she was transmitting her thoughts directly to his cock, his boxers tented.

“Char?” he said, his voice hoarse. His broad chest falling and rising with shallow breaths.

“I could look at you for hours, DP.” She scratched one nail down his pectoral and felt the thick muscle clench. “You’re so sexy,” she dragged it down his belly, “so hard everywhere,” now her finger hovered over the seam of his boxers. His gaze dipped down to her fingers skating down the outline of his cock and back up. “Soreal,” she finished. “What do I want next?” she said, clasping him through the boxers. When she gave him a little squeeze, he grunted.

“Take these off,” she said, fresh desire returning to her sated body in thick curls and smoky ringlets. As if she was a hungry creature from some other plane, programmed to want more the more he gave her.

With an economy of movement that got her hot, he removed his boxers. His cock, thick and erect, shot up, his balls drawn heavy and tight. Her pussy fluttered, waking up and ready again. Giving into every base desire, she thrust her hips until he widened his thighs, and she could rub herself up against the thick length. “Let me feel it, please.”

With his thick fingers twisted around the root, he ran the tip down her folds and back up again. His guttural groan skated over her tautly stretched nerve endings.

Fresh arousal seeped out of her slit, smearing the fat head. Arrows of need shot through, from the tips of her toes all the way to the roots of her hair. She writhed on the damp sheets as he continued rubbing himself up against her sensitized folds.

“How doyouwant it?” she asked, licking her lower lip.

“In whatever way pleases you best,” he said, red streaking his cheeks.

So, he wouldn’t tell her more just yet. No matter, Chaaru told herself. She’d get it out of him. They’d have more after this vacation, more of all this when they returned to reality. Something this glorious couldn’t be limited to one week. Somehow, she’d find enough faith to make him hers.

Hips flexing, he inserted the tip at her slit and they watched, breaths stuttering as the thick head disappeared inside her greedy flesh. She clenched her pussy, but he retreated fast.

“Don’t tease me,” she whimpered, fresh tingles breaking out over her skin.

“Tell me then,” he said, swiveling his cockhead through her folds with such intent that she locked her thighs against his sides to keep him there. The slide of his hairy, bunched thighs made her moan.

“I told you…” she said, pouting. “I want it rough. Like you’re trying but can’t control yourself. Fuck me like you’ve been waiting for years to do it.”

He slapped his cock against her folds, the transformation from sweet friend to demanding lover complete. Goosebumps broke out over her skin. One abrasive palm cupped her hip firmly. “Ihavebeen waiting for years.”

Her gaze clashed with his, a thousand different emotions sparking and burning out between them. “Then show me how that feels. Fuck me like it’s a dream and you’re worried that I might slip out from under you. Pin me down and make me take it. Don’t let me get away.” If her voice broke a little there at the end, they both pretended like it didn’t.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much?” he said, giving her a shallow thrust.

Her eyes nearly rolled back in their sockets. How did she convey to him that nothing he did to her would ever be too much? That if his wanting had been present for years, hers had gone from zero to intense in a few weeks and that the force of it awed her?

Like a man on a mission, he jumped off the bed. When he came back, it was with cuffs with pink feathers in his large hands. Quite similar to the pair Sam had had, she realized, a fever claiming her skin. He’d bought the exact pair on purpose.

“What did you want to do that night?” she said.

“I wanted to leave the cuffs on, pin you down and give you what you didn’t ask me for,” he said so matter-of-factly that the words burned. “Show you that you didn’t need to go to some asshole ever again.”

The raw possessiveness in his words made her mouth dry.

He grabbed her wrists, traced the whirls of mehndi with his tongue, and then shackled them to the headboard with a gentleness that drove her a little insane. “So that you don’t get away from me.”

Chaaru stretched, testing the fit. Her breasts thrust up.

As if pulled by a thread, DP’s gaze moved down her body, leaving little pockets of want behind, his greedy, grasping gaze as powerful as his touch.

“You good?” he said, running his mouth down her neck.

When she nodded, he nipped the curve of her breast and then tugged her nipple oh so gently with his teeth.

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