Page 92 of Mercenary
I push so goddamn hard with my feet, the glide of the chair sends her chest tumbling into mine. I thrust upward, hard, arching my hips as I drive into her as far as I can go.
“Kiss me as I come,” I hear her hoarse whisper.
I bury my face into her chest and hold her tight as I rock into her. Feeling her limbs tighten around my thighs and her body stiffen as an orgasm tears through her.
I rock us back and forth, milking every last bit of her climax out of her. Lifting my head to kiss her collarbone, her throat, her cheek, the side of her mouth.
Gentle kisses.
From a hard motherfucker of a man.
She turns her head, her lips claiming my own. And I’m helpless to stop her. I give in, give into the sensation of her tongue mating with my own, the aggressive way she claims me, the intimacy of the act itself. I wrap my arms around her and drag her in tight, kissing her back, wanting everything.
The chair rocks, my cock gliding along the tight walls of her pussy until I’m crazy with lust.
With my hands on her hips and on the next forward roll, I rise off the chair to stand. I lift her high, withdrawing before I set her on her feet and spin her around. Quickly. I have to get back inside her fast or risk spilling my seed all over her lovely ass. “Climb up onto your knees,” I say, my tone low and barely audible.
My girl grips hold of the arms of the chair, clambers onto it, raising her ass in the air and smiling at me from over her shoulder. “Hold on tight,” I warn, as I line my erection up against her lips and thrust home.
I hiss as I pound into her. Rocking the chair backward in perfect time with my thrusts.
“Oh. Yes.”
I take everything I ever wanted from her and more. She pants and moans beneath my onslaught, tightening around me as another orgasm crests. But I’m too far gone.
“Madelyn,” I hear myself groan her name.
“Declan, holy hell, Declan,” she cries out.
I grit my teeth, battling to control my approaching climax, wanting her to come a second time. The chair rocks backward. I look upward at the sky, seeing stars beneath the porch overhang before curling my body over hers, placing a knee beside her body on the cushion and slamming my cock deep inside her, over and over, the slight sway of the chair forgotten as all I can think about is her.
Her cries of pleasure. How her pussy fits so beautifully around my cock. The way she smells, like sand and sunshine, covered in a salty sweat yet all lemony-sweet innocence beneath it.
“Come for me, baby,” I groan, my legs shaking harder than my hands as her pussy clenches me tighter.
“Yes, oh hell, yes,” she gasps in throaty, carnal tone that tears through my defenses and straight into my subconscious as I feel her tighten around me as an intense orgasm rips through her.
“Mine, baby. All mine,” I growl. Like a man possessed, as I let go, and go, and go, filling the condom with my come.
We stay locked together, with my body wrapped over hers, my semihard cock still inside her, the chair still rocking slightly from our fucking, for what seems like forever. Off in the distance, a coyote howls. I’ve been fascinated with them as a kid, how they hunt for small animals, insects, even fruit. How the male takes care of his female, bringing food for her and his babies. Is that what he’s doing now, hunting prey to take back to a den full of pups? Protecting what’s his? Caring for what’s his?
I stiffen, the irony of my thoughts not lost on me.
Madelyn sighs, and I realized I didn’t really give a shit anymore about pretense and pretending.
This is what it is and Hayden can go to hell.
“Declan?” she whispers, probably sensing the mind fuck playing out in my head.
I roll off of her and lift her up against me, turning and repositioning myself so I’m sitting in the chair with her body scooped across my lap. I pull her up against me and cradle her snuggly against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder, her brilliant blue eyes staring up at me longingly.
I lean down and, before I can grab hold of my senses, I place a soft, intimate kiss on her lips. Now it’s her turn to grin, and mine to scowl. What the fuck am I doing?
Is it . . . ? No. NO. I’m not going to give into that other foreign word. Ever.
“That was . . . something,” she says with a shy smile.
“Yeah. You’re something,” I admit.
