Page 61 of Bracing The Storm

Holy shit!

There’s so much more to take when I already feel stretched to the limit. I don’t know how my body could possiblyaccommodate all of him. I should have known better than to go as far as we’ve come. Patrick is too much for me, in every possible way. But now that he’s having his wicked ways with me, I don’t want him to stop. He’s the kind of man who’s too tempting to resist. And it’s not just his looks; it’s also his body, his personality, that whole broody-I’ll-take-no-prisoners approach to our living arrangements.

Patrick doesn’t seem to harbor any of my thoughts. All he seems to want right now is to take his pleasure from me, and the thought is strangely turning me on even more than the pressure of his fingers on my clit.

I buck against him, shift my hips to let him in another inch. Somehow, my body obeys. My entire body begins to tremble from the sheer effort, but somehow it makes more room for him. Or maybe it’s the electric currents shooting through me from the bottom to the top, up and down, making my skin sensitive to his touch and putting my nerve endings on fire.

I moan and grind myself against him, in complete sync with his every thrust. My body threatens to come apart with every movement as explosive pleasure wracks through me. He slows for a moment and our eyes connect.

He doesn’t thrust. He just keeps me pinned to the spot while his heated gaze does all the work. His breaths come ragged, hard and fast, like he’s fighting for self-control. He might have enough of it, but I don’t.

“Patrick, I—” My voice breaks. My brain’s too scrambled to form the words and tell him exactly what I want.

More of this.

More of him.

I buck and try to take the last bit of pleasure that will send me over the edge, but he doesn’t let me. His hand moves my wrists, pinning them over my head, while his hips keep me buried under his weight, forcing me to keep still.

My muscles tighten and pulse around his hardness. I open my mouth to protest and catch the dark look crossing his face. With agonizing slowness he pulls back, leaving an empty feeling behind.

“What’s—” Wrong, I want to ask. But I don’t get to finish the question as he plunges back in. The sudden movement takes me by surprise. The sudden shock of pleasure is too much. Waves of pleasure radiate through me and accumulate in one last explosion that makes my whole body clench and tighten around him.

My orgasm seems to go on forever and yet I know it’s not enough. It will never be. Now that I’ve had a taste of him I’ll always want more. When I’ve finally come down from my rollercoaster ride, Patrick pulls out of me gently and squeezes his arm beneath my head to snuggle me against him, then pulls the covers over our naked bodies.

I’m grateful for that because my skin is coated in a sheen of sweat and the physical exertion has left me sleepy and shivering.

I lift my lips to his and catch the frown creasing his forehead.

Did I do something wrong?

The disturbing thought instantly sends my insides into a nervous frenzy. The question starts to burn at the back of my head, but I don’t ask. Let’s be honest, I probably wouldn’t like the answer.

His lips press against my temple, hot and reassuring, instantly dissipating my doubts, and his arm pulls me closer to him. The kiss might not seem unraveling, but it’s devastating in its own right. It’s the kind that sends my walls crumbling to the ground fast, the kind thatmeanssomething. Suddenly I want to open up to him and tell him everything. I want to trust him with my life, my past, my heart.

My body molds to him easily, as though it was made for him. We’re so close that, for a moment, his breath is mine and mineis his, like he’s the part of me I never knew I was missing until I found it.

It’s a dangerous thought to think and alarm bells start to ring at the back of my head.

I need to deal with this straight on, get rid of whatever stupid teenage fantasies my insane attraction to Patrick Walsh is planting inside me, before I turn into Mia and mentally enter the bridal zone. Apparently letting him fuck me once wasn’t enough to do the trick. Maybe an entire night will get him out of my system.

I pry my temple from his gentle lips.

“Lori,” Patrick starts, his voice hesitant. “There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Not now.” I arc my back to press my mouth against his, softly at first, then with more fervor until he gets the direction my touch is taking. But just to make sure, I run my fingertips over his bare chest, marveling at the hard muscles beneath the taut skin.

He breaks away from my kiss and raises a brow with a glint of amusement playing in his eyes. “Again? Are you sure?”

I nod and bite my lip. Heat rushes through me and pools in the soft, tender spot between my legs, right where he touched me barely a few minutes ago. I don’t know whether round two and another earth-shattering orgasm that will twist my insides into a tornado is a wise idea. But letting him fuck me until I can’t think straight sure beats obsessing over the way my heart has started to slam against my chest whenever I hear his voice. Or the way everything pales in significance whenever he so much as looks at me.

I know the signs. I’m not stupid.

Time to do something about it before it’s too late.

“Fuck me,” I whisper, ignoring the heat traveling up my neck at my own boldness.

“My pleasure. Or in this case, yours.” His mouth, lips, body are all over me, caressing me, taking me, keeping his promise the way only he knows how. And as expected, my brain switches off, eager to let him take control.

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