Page 72 of Eye of the Hurricane
“I don’t beg,” I scoff. He gives me a shrug and pulls one of my nipples between his lips, grazing it slightly with his teeth. I moan against my own will.
He lets go with a pop and attaches his mouth to the other one. This time, he brings his hand up and tweaks my abandoned nipple between his fingers. My head rolls back against the bed.
“Quit teasing,” I pant out.
He chuckles.
“You know what I’m waiting to hear,” he says, licking a stripe from my breast back up to my jaw, just below my ear.
“Please, stop teasing and fuck me,” I plead. A trail of kisses from my ear to my mouth is left behind.
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t beg when you sound so pretty doing it.”
Ares Dawkins is cocky in his everyday life but in the bedroom? He’s flat-out arrogant. The worst part is the way it has me soaking through the sheets.
His hand slips between us and he fists his cock, dragging it up and down my folds. This feeling alone has my eyes rolling back in my head. Both of us are panting, watching him slide against me.
He lines himself up at my entrance and puts the slightest bit of pressure. I scan over his face, looking for some connection, some indication that I’m not alone in this moment.
I’m not alone. His eyes are burning into mine and scanning my face for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.
“You’re sure?” he asks, one final time.
“Positive,” I assure him.
He presses into me. A million feelings rush through me at that initial contact. It’s pure bliss, it’s a stinging stretch, it’s a connection I’ve missed out on my whole life. A moan comes tumbling from his lips and his forehead drops to my chest.
Nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing has ever felt this right. And if I wasn’t on cloud nine, I know it would have me panicking.
“Shit, condom,” he says, pulling away from me. Holy shit. I don’t know how I didn’t think of that. I was so wrapped up in him—us—that it didn’t even cross my mind.
“I’m clean,” I blurt out. Which makes us both laugh. Because no fucking shit I’m clean. I’m a virgin.
“So am I. More of a baby thing,” he says, pulling a shiny packet from his jeans.
“I’m on the shot. But I still think we should use one.” He nods in agreement and rolls the condom over himself.
He lines himself back up with me and pushes in, slightly deeper this time but still only an inch or two. It feels different with the condom but no worse or better. More slippery.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he grits out, looking down at me. I don’t expect the words to do anything for me. But it’s obvious they do when I catch myself clenching around him. He moans, dropping his forehead to mine.
“Andyou’reso fucking big,” I counter. A grin spreads across his cheeks.
“You’re good for the ego, Kitty Kat.” I roll my eyes. I hate that fucking nickname. And I really hate that it’s getting me wetter right now.
He sinks another inch or two into me and we both fill the room with sounds of satisfaction. I’m holding onto him like my life depends on it. Hands wrapped in his hair, legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him toward me.
Until now, I was feeling pretty big and bad. Now I’m feeling like I really can’t take it.
It’s intense, in every aspect. What was a dull pinch has blossomed into pain. There are also big, blaring feelings in my chest that I can’t put names to right now. It feels like all my senses have been plugged into a live wire. And I need a second, need it all to stop for a moment.
“I need a second,” I blurt out. He halts his movements in an instant.
“Are you okay? Am I hurting you?” Concerned eyes flick between mine.
“I’m okay. It hurts a little, yeah. A little overwhelmed,” I admit.
He doesn’t question it for a second. He pulls himself off me and lays next to me.
