Chapter 49 #2
I stroked him slowly, learning what made him gasp—a twist at the head that made his thighs tense, a squeeze at the base that pulled a sound from him like I was hurting him in the best way.
Then I lowered my head and took him into my mouth.
The noise he made wasn't human. His whole body went rigid, his fingers spasming in my hair, French curses spilling from his lips in a broken stream.
I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, working my tongue along the underside until he was shaking beneath me, his thighs trembling with the effort of staying still.
"Stop—" He tugged at my hair, pulling me off, his chest heaving. "Need to be inside you. Now. Right now." His voice was wrecked, desperate, his amber eyes wild when they met mine.
He hooked his fingers in my underwear and dragged them down my legs, tossing them somewhere behind us without looking.
Then I crawled up his body and straddled him again, positioning him at my entrance.
We both groaned when I sank down—slow, feeling every inch of him stretching me open, filling me until I couldn't breathe.
His hands clamped onto my hips hard enough to bruise, his head thrown back against the pillows, tendons straining in his neck.
"Move," he gritted out through clenched teeth, the tendons in his neck straining, his fingers flexing convulsively on my hips. "Please, chere, I need—"
I moved. Rolled my hips in slow circles that made us both moan, then lifted up and sank back down, finding a rhythm that had the houseboat rocking beneath us. His hands guided me but didn't control—letting me take what I needed, his eyes fixed on where we joined like he couldn't look away.
"That's it," he breathed, his thumbs stroking the crease of my hips, his amber eyes heavy-lidded as he watched me move above him. "Take what you need. God, you're gorgeous like this—"
"All talk." The words slipped out before I could stop them, a challenge I hadn't meant to issue. I ground down hard, feeling him bottom out inside me, watching his jaw clench. "You're all pretty words and charm, Remy Boudreaux. I bet you can't even—"
His expression shifted. The playful lover vanished like smoke, replaced by something feral and dark that made my breath catch in my throat. His amber eyes went molten, his jaw tightening, and I felt the change in his body beneath me—every muscle coiling, tensing, like a predator about to strike.
Before I could finish the sentence, he moved.
His hands clamped onto my hips and he flipped us in one fluid motion—my back hitting the mattress hard enough to bounce, his body covering mine before I could draw breath, his cock never leaving me.
The shift in position drove him deeper, punching a gasp from my lungs, and suddenly I wasn't on top anymore.
Suddenly I wasn't in control of anything.
"Can't even what?" His voice had dropped an octave, rough and dangerous against my ear, his breath hot on my skin.
He gathered both my wrists in one hand and pinned them above my head, pressing them into the pillow hard enough that I couldn't move them.
His other hand gripped my hip, fingers digging in hard enough to leave fingerprints, to bruise.
"Finish that thought, chere. I dare you. "
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My brain had gone blank, every thought scattered by the way he was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me whole, like he was going to take me apart piece by piece and enjoy every second of it.
"That's what I thought." His lips curved, but it wasn't his usual charming smile.
This was sharper. Hungrier. He pulled his hips back slowly—agonizingly slowly—until just the thick head of his cock remained inside me, my body clenching around him, trying desperately to pull him back.
I could feel every ridge and vein dragging against my sensitive walls, could feel the hollow emptiness where he'd been.
Then he slammed home. I screamed—actually screamed—my back arching off the bed, my fingers clawing at nothing because he still had my wrists pinned.
The force of his thrust punched the air from my lungs, drove him so deep I swore I could feel him in my throat.
Pleasure and pressure exploded up my spine, white-hot and devastating.
"There she is," he growled, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a brutal rhythm that had the headboard cracking against the wall with every thrust. "My mouthy little omega.
So much sass when you're on top. So many clever words.
" Another thrust, harder than the last, and I wailed beneath him.
"But now look at you. Can't even remember how to talk, can you? "
He was right. I couldn't form words—couldn't form thoughts—could only take what he was giving me, my body jolting with every punishing thrust, sounds being fucked out of me that I'd never made before. Broken moans and desperate whimpers and high, keening cries that didn't sound human.
"Answer me." He shifted his angle, hiking my leg up over his hip with his free hand, and the new position made him hit something inside me that turned my vision to static. "Can you remember how to talk?"
"N-no—" The word came out stuttered, wrecked, barely recognizable as language, my head shaking against the pillow. "Remy—please—" My voice cracked on his name, my nails raking down his back.
"Please what?" He released my wrists to brace both hands on either side of my head, caging me in, his hips never stopping that relentless, punishing rhythm.
His face was inches from mine, his amber eyes boring into me, his breath coming hard and fast. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, his chest, the muscles in his arms straining as he held himself up.
"You wanted to run that pretty mouth. Now use it. Tell me what you need."
"I don't—I can't—" I was babbling, my hands finally free but useless, scrabbling at his shoulders, his back, leaving scratches I could feel tearing into his skin.
My legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into his ass, trying to pull him deeper even though there was nowhere deeper to go. "More—please—I need more—"
"More?" He laughed, low and dark, the sound rumbling through his chest, and suddenly he pulled out entirely.
The loss of him was devastating. I sobbed at the emptiness, my hips chasing him, my body clenching around nothing. "No—Remy, please—" My hands reached for him blindly, fingers grasping at air.
"Turn over." It wasn't a request. His hands were already on me, flipping me onto my stomach before I could process the command, pressing me down into the mattress with one broad palm between my shoulder blades. "Face down. Ass up. Now."
I scrambled to obey, my limbs clumsy and shaking, getting my knees under me and pressing my chest to the bed. The position left me completely exposed, completely vulnerable, my face turned to the side and pressed into the pillow, my ass in the air, my slick dripping down my thighs.
"Fuck." His voice came from behind me, rough and reverent, and I felt his hands grip my hips, thumbs digging into the flesh of my ass, spreading me open.
"Look at you. So wet you're dripping. Making a mess of my sheets.
" One finger traced through my folds, gathering slick, and I shuddered. "All this for me?"
"Yes—" I pushed back against his hand, desperate for more contact. "All for you—please, Remy, I need—"
"I know what you need." He notched himself at my entrance and pushed in—one long, devastating stroke that filled me completely, that made me scream into the pillow, my fingers clawing at the sheets.
The angle was deeper than before, impossibly deep, his cock pressing against places that made stars burst behind my eyes.
He didn't give me time to adjust. He fucked me like he was trying to break me—hard, fast, brutal thrusts that slammed his hips against my ass, that made the whole houseboat rock, that made the water slap against the hull in obscene rhythm.
One hand fisted in my hair and pulled my head back, arching my spine, the stretch adding another layer of sensation to the overwhelming pleasure.
The other hand gripped my hip hard, holding me in place, not letting me squirm away from the intensity.
"This what you wanted?" His voice was guttural, barely human, his accent so thick the words nearly slurred together, his hips snapping against my ass with bruising force. "Wanted me to stop being all talk? Wanted me to fuck you like this?"
"Yes—yes—god, yes—" The words tore from my throat, ragged and desperate, my fingers clawing at the sheets beneath me.
I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, could only take it.
Every thrust punched a sound out of me—broken, desperate noises that filled the small cabin, mixing with the slap of skin on skin and his grunts of effort.
My inner walls were clenching around him with every stroke, pleasure building at the base of my spine, coiling tighter and tighter.
"Touch yourself." He released my hair to grab my hand, his fingers rough and demanding as he shoved it between my body and the mattress, pressing my fingers against my own clit.
His other hand gripped my hip, holding me steady for his thrusts.
"Make yourself come. I want to feel you fall apart on my cock. "
I rubbed my clit in frantic circles, too far gone to be embarrassed, too desperate to do anything but chase the orgasm building inside me. His thrusts never slowed, never gentled, each one driving me higher, pushing me closer to an edge I could barely see.