Page 65 of Wreck Me
“God, Megan. You taste so fucking good.”
“Please don’t stop.” She rocked her hips forward, murmuring incoherent words, her breaths coming in pants, before her body went rigid with release, then slowly relaxed as she rode out the waves of pleasure. If she hadn’t been handcuffed to the bar, he had no doubt she’d have slumped to the floor.
“Aidan, oh my God. That was amazing.” Her voice was faint, almost a whisper. “But I still need you inside me.”
“I’m here, baby.”
Aidan stood and shucked his jeans, his hard-on bursting free from his boxer briefs as though breaking out of cotton jail. He stroked himself as his gaze raked over her from head to toe.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts to look at you.” He swallowed against the emotion in his throat.
Her sigh came out ragged. “Aidan…”
“Turn around.”
She did, the cuffs clinking against the metal bar above her head. He stepped up behind her and she was so wet, he had no issue sliding inside. He gripped her hips and buried himself deep. Their groans mingled together as he hit that spot inside her. The muscles in her back danced under her skin. Her ass was a fucking masterpiece, and he watched as he moved in and out of her, deep and slow. He couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried. She gasped every time he moved back into her, making him want to push her a little more.
He thrusted inside her then stopped, buried deep. With one hand, he gathered a handful of her hair and leaned forward, kissing her long, beautiful neck. Megan’s breath came in pants when the hand on her hip moved to the front and cupped her mound.
“Oh, God,” she said, her words coming out in a breathless whisper.
“Megan, you’re so fucking beautiful like this.” His balls ached seeing her so open for him.
He brought his hands back to her hips, her long hair falling over her shoulder, leaving her back bare for him to watch. His fingers tightened on her hips, and he picked up the speed of his thrusts. Her gasps turned to moans as he slammed into her hard and so deep there were times he didn’t know where she began and he ended.
He looked down at her as he moved inside her, with her arms bound above her head, blindfolded and vulnerable but willing to give him everything he wanted and take what she needed.
His release bore down on him like a freight train, and when she pushed back against him and begged for him to fuck her harder, there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.
“Holy fuck!” His balls tightened up, and two more hard thrusts later, he stilled, his come filling her up.
He swore he blacked out for a moment.
There was ringing in his ears.
When their breathing returned to normal and his vision restored, he untied the blindfold and unlocked the cuffs. She turned around, a huge smile on her face. He lifted her wrists to his mouth, where he showered the dark pink skin with kisses.
Without another word, he picked her up and carried her into the shower, where he washed her off from head to toe, getting all of the sticky caramel off her body. He washed her pussy with gentle strokes of a washcloth, causing her to shiver. Their mouths kept meeting in sweet, soft kisses that made the shower take twice as long.
When they were done, they dried each other off and made their way into the bedroom, where they curled up together and passed out.
A few hours later, Megan woke him up, straddling him and worshiping his body with her hands, lips, and tongue. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he rolled her over and slid inside her again, just as easily as before. But this time, his strokes were slow, their touches more like caresses, and no words were spoken.
At one point, as she writhed underneath him, Megan opened her eyes and met his. In that moment, he was hit hard by a realization he’d been hoping to avoid since he met her. It was a realization he knew he’d have even if he wasn’t balls deep in her.
He was completely and utterly in love with Megan Gentry.
Eighteen
Love Lies
The smellof coffee was better than any alarm clock.
When the aroma of the rich brew hit her nose, she rolled over and reached out blindly, her hand hitting empty and slightly cold sheets.
She shoved up and looked around the dark room. What the hell time was it? A glance at the clock on his nightstand showed it was early, barely seven a.m.
How did the man always wake up before her? No matter what time she woke up, he beat her to it.
