Page 65 of Puck to the Heart
Her nod was frantic, sending her ponytail bouncing.
“You don’t have to be quiet, Barnes. There’s no one here but you and me, and I want to hear every sound you make when I fuck you.”
White teeth flashed as she bit her lip, still not speaking. The leggings were nearly impossible to pull over her hips, but they served to keep her legs in place.
Again, I traced the line where the seam of the leggings had been, this time touching bare, soaked skin.
Then I slid two fingers through the gathering wetness and plunged them deep inside her.
The force of the movement pushed her forward, and I had to wrap my other arm around her thighs to keep her from falling off the bench. A scowl twisted her lips in the mirror. I eased my fingers out just to shove them back in. Harder. Audible grinding came from her molars as she gritted her teeth against the onslaught. But the rolling of her eyes had me continuing the agony of the slow pace.
All I wanted was to sink into her, but drawing out this glacial pace and watching her face grow redder as she struggled to maintain control enthralled me until I was no longer in control. My athletic shorts were a nylon prison, and I shoved them down to free my erection.
Brushing through her slick heat left me shuddering, nearly collapsing over her on the bench.
Ash Wilder would bethe death of me. This new honesty between us changed things. Something twisted inside me at the look on his face before, but the look he wore now was new, deeper. Possessive and primal.
I didn’t want Ash to feel inferior because he made mistakes when he was young and naive. He wanted what anyone wanted at that age and didn’t know how many people only ever wanted to use and hurt and break each other.
Now that things were, pardon the pun, coming to a head between us, everything that came before lined up, the falling dominoes in my head created a larger picture once I had all the pieces.
But I lo—liked. I liked this side of Ash.
The rawness without hiding behind the cocky layers.
And, okay yes, seeing him in the mirror sparked something in my brain. The same thing happened to him, too. Maybe it was better this way.
And holyshit,it was so good, him teasing me with the head of his cock. I felt… not trapped, exactly, but frozen. Like if I moved, he’d bolt, like a scared rabbit.
If this was how he wanted me, this was how I’d stay. Not that I was complaining at the delicious sensation of being all-encompassed.
Slowly, he pressed into me, giving my body time to adjust. He was thick and hot andhard, and it took everything in me, not to let go andshatterright then. I wanted so desperately to tell him how delicious it felt, but my jaw locked tight.
Ash, however, had no such restriction.
“Fuck, Olivia, you're so wet. So perfect. Don’t know why I waited so long to do this.”
The rough edge returned to his voice, making him sound desperate and on the verge of losing control.
Good.
I wanted him to let go of all his restraint. To move beyond the past. I wanted it for myself, and I hated how a tiny bead of mistrust lingered on the fraying thread holding us together.
With a blink, I found Ash’s eyes in the mirror, all stormy and…fuck. I whimpered at the sight.
Seeing him, us, together rewired something in my brain. And I swore at him, loud, louder than I probably ever did in her life. “Ash—” For a moment I couldn’t speak, until more words tumbled out in rapid, swearing succession. “I wanted this—wantedyou— so bad. Fuuuck. Don’t stop. Look—look at us.” Our reflection in the mirror made me understand why some people might want mirrors over their beds. Seeing his body so close to mine, seeing his pretty face while fucked me?—
“You think my face is pretty?”
Oops, the last bit must have slipped out because my brain cells were melding together into one, and all it knew was pleasure. Exasperated and maybe a little amused, I would’ve smacked him in the forehead if removing my weight from my hands on the bench wouldn’t send us plummeting to the floor. “Of course, I think your face is pretty, Wilder.” Slowly, I moved. Back and forth, slow and shallow, teasing him. “I think you are annoyingly pretty.” Still moving, stroking against him, he tightened his grip on my waist.
“So, I’m annoying.” Laughter held to his voice, faint, but it was there.
“Yes. On purpose.”
His head tipped back up, meeting my gaze in the mirror for a second. “Isthisannoying?” He grabbed my hips and yanked me backward.
Oh, fuck, he was so deep. I whined and let my head drop forward. Closing my eyes, I eased forward but he snatched me backward. “Harder. Ash, harder,please.” Even when he made me beg I wanted more.
