Ian moves his hips, slowly, excruciatingly pulling out of me before impaling me again.
“I thought I could,” he clenches his teeth together, and a hiss erupts past them. “I need you, Harlow. I don’t think I can take it slow.”
I lock my ankles together at the small of his back.
“I’m not porcelain doll, Beckett. I’m not going to break.” I bring my lips close enough to kiss him, but I don’t. It’s the best kind of torment. “Who said I wanted you to be gentle anyway? I just want you. All of you.”
His lips slam into mine again before he releases my hands. He falls to his knees, pulling out of me as he yanks my legs further apart and shoves my ankles against the headboard.
My ass is in the air and I’m bent like a pretzel as he slams into me again, no warning, no gentle words, just him in his element, raw and savage as he fucks me into the mattress. If the bed spontaneously disintegrated right now, I’m pretty sure he’d still be going at it, fucking me straight into the floor and then if it disappeared, into the core of the Earth.
He slams his cock into me as my palms latch onto his shoulders, his hands still around my ankles.
“Oh, God,” I cry out. It’s so deep this way, so visceral, as he pounds in and out of me, his head thrown back, his chest slick with sweat, his stamina never ending. I want to lick the sweat from his skin and taste the salt, but I can’t do much except lay there and watch as he plunges in and out of me.
My head hits the headboard with the ferocity of his thrusts, but I don’t care. His balls rock against me as he pistons his hips, his abs rippling with the effort, his cock, large and weirdly beautiful, disappearing inside me.
Bam goes the headboard.
He draws back, every muscle on him going rigid as I latch onto his shoulders, my fingers biting into his pecs, before he slams into me again.
Bam!
“Give it to me, Harlow,” he growls.
He continues his merciless pace. Bam! Bam! Bam! It’s like he’s doing battle with his dick, and he’s never going to surrender.
I mewl his name.
Bam!
Warmth pools in my belly.
“Give it to me!” he roars.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
I whimper, and he shifts just a little.
Now he’s hitting that spot just right, and the warmth in my belly spreads like a pour of warm honey. I explode around him, stars bursting behind my eyes as I cry out. He pushes through my convulsing walls and thrusts, his body jerking violently, my name a whisper on his lips as he spills inside of me.
We lay there for a long moment, him twitching inside me as I milk every drop of his cum.
“God damn,” he says, pulling out of me. My legs fall to the bed as he collapses beside me, his breath erratic, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly.
He stares at me. “I want to cover every inch of you in my cum, Stormy.”
He’s probably expecting a smartass remark, but I don’t give him one.
Instead, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “Why don’t you then?”
He chuckles softly and waves a hand. “Just give me a moment to catch my breath.”
33
Ian
Harlow is sitting on my dick and damn do I like her being there. Last night, I fucked her in my bed with her ankles pinned to my headboard. Then we took it nice and slow before I rolled her over and pounded into her from behind until she screamed so loud I thought she might wake the whole forest.
She let me take her over—and I do mean over—the sofa and we never even made it to the kitchen for that glass of water before we were on the floor, my head buried between her beautiful legs. After, she took me into her gorgeous mouth, and I let her lick and lave for as long as I could stand it before she fulfilled a personal fantasy and let me come all over her tits.
My back is probably permanently scarred from the bite of her nails, and my lips are bruised from her frantic kisses. Her shoulders and neck, her ass and the inside of her thighs, are still pink from my teeth, and I’m pretty sure both of us are missing chunks of hair. The whole place smells like the fire dying in the fireplace, sex, and her.
But I never want to scrub the memories from these walls. Hell, if I could, I’d never leave. Every time I breathe in, I smell her, and she’s my favorite dessert: apple pie.
She has got to be sore. I am sore, but she seems to suffer the same disease I do: can’t-get-enough-of-each-other-itis.
The first light of dawn shines through the window and lands like a spotlight on her on top of me in my bed. I have a perfect view of her blue-eyed gaze, foggy with desire and darkened by long lashes, her perfect tits with nipples the color of roses pebbled into tight buds, and the freckles that splatter like fallen constellations across her rib cage.
I want to take a pic of her and make it my wallpaper so every time I open my phone, I see her like this—sexy as hell as she takes control. But then someone would be bound to see eventually, and then I’d have to kill them.
She wiggles, adjusting a little and taking me even deeper as she parts her gorgeous thighs even farther.
My fingers tighten around her pelvis, and I hiss out a breath as I throw my head back, swallowing furiously. I think about upcoming finals, football, my parents, literally anything to avoid blowing my load before I give her what she needs. My balls feel like Atlas holding back an earth full of cum.
"God,” I manage, “you’re my favorite thing in the universe.”
“I think you mean, sex is
