Page 77 of Welded Defender
I don't break eye contact as my tongue traces a slow path along the vein that pulses beneath delicate skin. His teeth sink into his lower lip, leaving it white before blood rushes back.
His thighs jump beneath my palms, tremors running through the muscle with each downward motion. His fingers twist in my hair—not pulling but clutching, as if he's afraid I'll stop. When I look up again, his lashes flutter against his cheeks, head pressed back into the pillow, the column of his throat working silently.
"Marcy," he whispers, voice cracking on the final syllable. My name in that broken tone sends a flush spreading across my skin, my own pulse throbbing between my legs. I hollow my cheeks, drawing him deeper, savoring the salt-slick weight against my tongue. His hips lift slightly off the bed despite his injuries—a small, involuntary jerk that tells me everything his words can't.
"Don't stop," he urges, voice low and rough, heat radiating off him like a furnace. I pull my mouth off him with a wet pop that echoes in the quiet room, and his eyes snap open—dark pools with questions swimming in their depths. Without a word, I slide off my leggings, the fabric catching slightly on my ankles before I kick them away. I climb carefully onto his lap, my thighs bracketing his hips, fine hairs on my skin rising in the cool air.
I settle against him, careful not to jostle his chest beneath its white bandage, but the moment I feel his hardness pressing against my center, my pulse quickens to a thundering gallop. The pressure of him against my slick heat is intoxicating, electric. I can see the fire in his gaze burning through the shadows, the way his breath catches and holds in his chest as I align my body with his, hovering just above where we both want me to be.
I sink down inch by inch, a sweet burning stretch that makes my breath catch and hold. My lips part soundlessly, then release a low moan that mingles with his harsh exhale. The world narrows to the point where our bodies join, to the fullness that makes my thighs quiver against his.
"Fuck, Marcy," he whispers, his fingers twitching, reaching. I capture his wrist before he can touch me, pressing his palm into the cool sheets beside his shoulder.
"Doctor's orders," I remind him, my teeth catching my lower lip as I rock forward slightly. "Stay still."
"You're killing me, baby." He groans, throwing his head back against the pillows, the cords in his neck standing taut beneath flushed skin.
I grind my hips down in a slow, deliberate circle, feeling him pulse inside me. "You survived a gunshot. I think you can survive a little teasing."
I rise up until he's barely inside me, hovering there for one breathless moment before dropping back down, taking him to the hilt. He gasps—a broken sound that vibrates through both our bodies. His knuckles whiten as they twist in the sheets, the muscles in his forearm flexing with restraint as I establish a rhythm, each downward stroke sending sparks of pleasure radiating through my core.
I arch my back, my spine curving like a bow as he fills me completely. My thighs tremble with each rise and fall, sweat beading at my temples, my breath coming in short, staccato gasps that I couldn't silence if I tried.
"Marcy," he rasps, the word scraping from his throat. His hands twitch against the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of staying still. "God—just let me?—"
I press my palm flat against his shoulder. "Doctor's orders," I whisper, my lips curving as I slide my hand down my stomach, past my navel, to where our bodies meet. His jaw clenches when my fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, a muscle jumping in his cheek as he watches me circle it slowly.
"More," he rasps, the word barely escaping through clenched teeth. A single bead of sweat catches the light as it slides down the hollow of his collarbone. The mattress creaks beneath us as Irock forward, my thighs quivering against his hips as I ride him, my body arching like a live wire.
Heat pools low in my belly, tightening with each downward stroke, each breath becoming more ragged than the last. The room narrows to just this—his body inside mine, the slick friction where my fingers work, the coiling tension threatening to snap.
"Come for me," he whispers.
My fingernails leave half-moons in my palms as everything inside me contracts, then explodes outward. The ceiling spins, the edges of the room melting away. My teeth sink into my bottom lip, but a sound escapes anyway—something between a gasp and a sob.
Landon's pupils swallow the green of his eyes. His grip tightens, five points of pressure on each hip, the bandage on his left hand hanging loose as he lifts me until only the tip of him remains inside. For a heartbeat, I hover there before he yanks me down with enough force that the mattress groans beneath us. My thighs shake against his sides as he fills me completely. He establishes a rhythm, lifting and pulling, his teeth clenched so tight a muscle jumps in his jaw, droplets of sweat catching light at his hairline.
I gasp, sinking forward, my teeth grazing the salt-slick hollow where his neck meets his shoulder. My muscles flutter around him in waves that leave me trembling.
"Fuck, doctor's orders," he grunts, his voice raw and ragged like sandpaper against velvet. His fingers dig crescents into the soft flesh of my hips, marking me as he lifts me off his swollen length until just the tip remains, then slams me back down with enough force to make the mattress protest beneath us. His hips thrust up to meet mine, the corded muscles in his abdomen flexing with each desperate movement as he drives deeper into me, over and over again.
The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by his labored breathing—each exhale a hot gust against my collarbone. His movements grow frantic, erratic—hips bucking upward with such abandon that the headboard knocks rhythmically against the wall as he chases his release, his eyes locked on mine.
"I love you—" he thrusts again, harder, the muscles in his forearms corded with tension, sweat glistening on his chest. "I fucking love you."
I whimper at his words, my fingernails digging half-moons into his shoulders, my spine arching involuntarily as heat floods through me.
"I will always love you but never own you," he promises as he pounds into me, his voice breaking on the words, his eyes never leaving mine. "I will always protect you but never control you. Always defend you but never take more than you offer me." Each declaration is punctuated by the slick sound of our bodies meeting, the headboard tapping rhythmically against the wall.
"Landon—" I gasp, my thighs trembling around his hips, his words unraveling me more thoroughly than his touch. "I love you. I trust you."
He groans at my words, his fingers digging into my hips as he pulls me down to meet each frantic thrust. Then he slams me down his full length one last time. A guttural moan tears from deep in his chest, loud and unrestrained. His entire body goes rigid beneath mine, muscles cording beneath sweat-slicked skin as he pulses inside me.
When it's over, we lie tangled in the damp sheets, our skin flushed and slick with sweat, our breathing gradually slowing into perfect rhythm. I roll off him, my thighs still trembling, and he pulls me into the solid warmth of his arms, his heartbeat a steady drum against my cheek.
"I love you," he whispers into my hair, his breath stirring the strands that cling to my temple.
"I love you too," I whisper back, tracing the ridge of his collarbone with my fingertip. "More than I ever knew was possible." I lift my head to find his eyes. "I meant what I said. I trust you. I know you won't hurt me. I know you'll protect me and defend me and never use fear to control me. I know that." I press my lips to the tip of his nose. "I knowyou, Landon."
