Page 71 of Ridin' Free
I wanted him so badly, when he knocked, I sprinted toward my entryway.
I pulled the door open, and there he was in all of his six-foot-two glory.
He was in his boots, faded black jeans, and a long-sleeve tee underneath his kutte. The bandana he must have worn on his ride was pulled down around his neck, and his hair was wind-blown and sexy as hell.
His arm was bent, the fingers of his left hand wrapped around the handles of his leather rucksack, slung over his back. When he stepped inside, he tossed the bag and, without a word of greeting, reached for my face with both hands.
I didn’t resist, but closed my eyes and craned my neck, offering him my mouth.
His kiss was ravenous from the start.
Pressing up onto my tiptoes, I reached for his shoulders, clinging to him. One of his hands slid around the back of my neck before grasping a fistful of my hair while the other snaked around my waist, hauling me tight against him. My toes barely grazed the floor as he took another step inside, moving us enough for him to kick my door shut. He did it so hard, the slam rattled the hinges—but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
He tasted divine.
Yeah.
He was my slice of heaven.
I sold my soul years ago, damning myself for the rest of my life. But this—him—I was going to savor for as long as I could.
He grabbed a palmful of my ass, pressing me tighter against him, and I felt the evidence of his arousal even as my own pooled at my core. He groaned, and I wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.
“I want you,” I breathed, reaching for the button at his jeans.
“Take my dick out, baby,” he muttered against my lips.
My hair still in his fist, I blindly did as I was told, whimpering pathetically when I gripped him in my hand.
“You feel that?” he all but groaned into my mouth, jerking his hips at my touch. “You feel how fuckin’ hard I am?”
I nodded as much as his hold would allow, surprised by how breathless I already was.
“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, your scream will wake the neighbors.”
“Please,” I begged.
He let go of my hair and reached for my shorts. By the time my fly was down, my cropped tee was up and over my head. Before he could make another move, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts and panties then shimmied them down my legs in order to step out of them. Hungry for the fruition of his promise, I immediately turned for the stairs, knelt on the fourth step, bent myself at the perfect angle, and turned to peek at him from over my shoulder.
Surrender.
That’s how much I trusted him.
That’s how far I’d fallen.
That’s how reckless my monster made me.
I didn’t want to be in control. I wanted him to take me—to ride me—to make me scream.
I hardly needed to see the brown of his eyes to feel the intensity of his gaze.
I swear he growled as he stepped toward me, grabbed hold of my hips, and slammed his way inside of me bare. Primed as I was, he invaded me with ease, and I moaned at the mere pleasure of my swollen center stretching to accommodate all of him.
No one filled me like he did. No one.
Precisely as he promised—he fucked me.
And he fucked mehard.
