Page 18 of Some Like 'Em Burly
“Come on, don’t be shy.” I urge. “I can take it.”
“I’m not shy.” Rhys presses the head inside me, amusement rich in his tone. “I’m being careful with you.”
“Welldon’t.”
I’m being a brat and we both know it, already scrabbling for purchase on the table after a couple of inches despite my big words, but the blacksmith is not dismayed by my behavior. He laughs, rumbly and delighted, and starts to fuck me with shallow strokes. Not forcing me open but easing the way, and I’m pinned, and this is perfect. Perfect.
“Spank me,” I wheeze.
A heavy palm cracks against my bare ass. Oh, lord, I can barely think as hot sparks rain through my private parts.
“Pull my hair,” I order next.
Rhys huffs a laugh. “Gwen. We’ll get to it all. Be good.”
Be good.I bite my lip, pushing my hips back against his thrusts, and his cock sinks deeper inside me. Stretches me open and steals my breath, and Rhys grips my hips then starts up a rhythm.
Creak.
Rattle.
Creak.
This is a solid table, but it’s taking a battering in our honor. Practically skidding across the flagstones. And Rhys’s cock must be making me dizzy, because I all I can think is we should give it a Viking burial. Burn it ceremonially on the river before we leave.
Thick fingers delve into my hair, gripping a fistful, and I’m back in the moment. Oh shit, this feels good. Every punch of his cock inside me sets all my nerve endings alight.
“Oh.” My teeth clack together with his hard thrusts. “Oh.”
He gathers my wrists with his spare hand. Pins them at the base of my spine, andlord, I can’t breathe. I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything except take his fucking and thank my lucky stars for it.
“You doing okay, cariad?”
At least he sounds winded too, gritting the words between clenched teeth. That’s a relief.
“Sogood,” I tell him. “So, so good.”
There’s a grunt of agreement, and I freakinglovethis man’s grunts. Then he’s fucking me harder, pounding me into the table just like I begged, and my legs are twitching and my cheeks are hot and I’m sweaty and sticky and flying.
“Rhys!”
Another spank, another hot cascade of sparks against my ass, and that’s what sends me over. What has me shuddering and crying out, face pressed into the table, thighs shaking as my pussy clamps down on the blacksmith like I’ll never let him go.
And behind me, Rhys curses loudly, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise, and then he’s swelling inside me. Growing impossibly bigger before he floods me with spurts of wet heat.
I catch my breath after several minutes. Every part of me aches, and something sticky is trickling down my thigh. “Rhys?”
He pulls out slowly, rubbing my back when I hiss. Itburns, even as his cock is softening. “Easy, cariad. It’ll be sore for a little while. Let me take care of you.”
As if I’d ever say no tothat. And with Rhys, ‘taking care’ apparently means a warm, damp cloth dabbed between my legs, then a hot, soapy bath and a mug of peppermint tea. And he’s with me the whole time, stroking my cheek and fiddling with my hair, and it’s so much. More overwhelming than the sex, even.
I scratch his bearded chin where he kneels at the bathside, suds dripping off my elbow onto the mat. “You could come in, you know.”
Rhys wrinkles his nose at the scented water. “There’d be a tidal wave.”
Yeah, now that I look at him again, he’d never fit. He’s too big, too brawny, all hard muscle and heavy bone. All man.
Allmyman.
