Chapter 30 #3
Frankie exhaled, her lips parting as she rocked her hips, taking him deeper with each movement.
Her head fell back, hair spilling down her spine and brushing against his thighs, and a small, ragged sound escaped her throat as her inner walls clamped around his shaft.
His balls tingled as they tightened against his body.
He gripped her thighs, holding her steady, feeling them quiver like a tuning fork.
Her skin was impossibly soft and warm, and she felt perfect—so impossibly perfect—around him.
Liam watched, utterly transfixed, as she continued sinking down on him, inch by inch, the muscles in her legs flexing under his touch, her back arching so that her breasts strained, her nipples’ beaded knots begging for his attention.
He could see the swelling flush rise up her chest to her face, the shine of sweat at the hollow of her throat.
The sight of his straining shaft disappearing inside of her as her tight, velvet walls contracted around him was almost more than he could handle.
He wondered if she had any idea how much power she wielded over him.
When she sank all the way down, her thighs flush against his hips, she paused, and her chin dropped to her chest. For a second, she just stayed like that, head bowed, breathing hard through her nose.
Her snug canal clenched and released around his member, as if her body was trying to pull him even deeper, greedily wanting more of him.
Liam wanted to thrust up, to give them both what they wanted, but he held back, knuckles whitening as he dug his fingers into her skin.
“Fuck, you feel…” her voice trembled as her words trailed off and she rolled her hips, and he almost lost it.
Not able to sit back and be a passive participant but not wanting to take over completely, he sat up, snaked one arm around her back, and fisted the other in her hair to pull her in for a kiss. She met his mouth, hungry and hot, biting his lower lip until he groaned.
Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, and she started to move, rolling her hips in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm.
Liam could do nothing but hold on as every nerve ending in his body lit up, raw and newly exposed.
She set a punishing pace, grinding down with every thrust, her hands braced on his shoulders for leverage.
He could feel the tension building in her, the way her breath hitched as she found the angle she liked best. The friction was incredible, the wet heat of her all-consuming, and he couldn’t help but match her, his hips lifting to meet each stroke.
Their bodies moved together so perfectly it felt choreographed, and Liam lost himself in the sensation—the drag of her tightness, the ripple of her muscles as she clenched around him, and the insistent heat pooling at the base of his spine.
His hand grasped her ass, massaging her cheeks, helping her keep the rhythm.
She broke their kiss, and her head fell back.
She was beautiful, wild, and unfiltered, and if he died right then, he’d do it with a stupid, satisfied smile on his face.
He could feel her getting close. The way she moved faster, more frantic, her nails digging into his skin as if to anchor herself to reality.
She whimpered, a sound that might have been his name, and it lit up every predatory instinct he had as her body milked him.
He shifted, planting his heels in the rug, driving up into her just enough to hit the spot that made her eyes roll back.
She clamped down on him in response, and he felt himself unravel, fiber by fiber.
His gaze locked on her face as he watched the pleasure build until it threatened to break her. He wanted to see her lose control, to know he was the one who did that to her.
The friction of her inner walls pulsating around him felt almost too good.
When her arousal began to leak from the base of his cock and onto his balls, a groan ripped from his chest. His fingers moved between her cheeks to her most forbidden area.
He could feel the tension in Frankie's body as surely as if it were his own. He wanted to claim her, to make her feel something she’d never felt before.
His middle finger began to rub the puckered area in the center of her backside, going where she’d joked on their hike, no man had ever gone before.
As soon as he did, her thighs began to tremble.
He pushed his finger, adding pressure to the forbidden spot and her stomach contracted violently.
He felt her entire body going up and over the edge, he pulsed the pressure of his finger, causing her to cry out in pleasure.
As soon as he did, her thighs began to tremble. He pushed his finger, adding pressure to the forbidden spot and her stomach contracted violently. He felt her entire body going up and over the edge, he pulsed the pressure of his finger, causing her to cry out in pleasure.
Her muscles went from taut to trembling, her entire body convulsed against him as her climax threatened to pull them both under.
She gasped, shuddering, and for a moment he thought she'd collapse, but then she clung to his shoulders and rode out the aftershocks, her body spasming around him in seismic, powerful waves.
As he watched her ride out her release, the only thing going through his mind was that he wanted this night, this to be a part of her very existence.
He wanted to rewrite the electric pathways of her memory so that when she was a hundred years old, half-lucid in a retirement home somewhere, she’d still remember being with him, remember the feel of his mouth and hands, and the taste of unfiltered wanting sparking between them.
He wanted her to know, in every cell, that she’d been worshipped.
He wanted to infuse her DNA with his, to imprint on her soul. To brand her subconscious.
Liam kissed her jaw, her temple, and the sweat-damp hair at her brow and waited for her to come back to herself.
He wanted it to last, wanted this suspension of time where every sense flooded through her to be drawn out as long as possible.
But as her peak subsided, he could feel the overspill of his own need—sharp, hot, and bottomless.
When she started to sag against him, spent and pliant, he shifted his grip, braced her hips in both hands, and rolled them over with a sudden, practiced move. Frankie landed on her back, hair fanned out on the rug, mouth parted in a dazed O as he hovered above her.
He could tell she wasn’t expecting it when he shifted, the motion so fast it left her panting.
One moment she was riding him, chest heaving and hair wild, and the next, he flipped her and pressed her down onto the rug.
Frankie’s gasp went silent in her throat as he hooked her knees over his elbows and thrust into her with the authority of a man who knew exactly how to unravel her.
He wanted to see her like this—pinned beneath him, body shaking, back arched, her hands grasping wildly at his biceps.
He pulled out slowly, relishing the way her body tried to follow, the lining of her pussy clinging to his shaft.
He set her hips down and lined himself up again.
This time, instead of hooking her knees in his elbows, he used his hands to spread her thighs apart, laying her wide and fully open to him, her core pulsed, greedy and waiting.
He loved the look on her face, eyes wild, mouth open, pure need, no filter, no shields.
He loved to extend the suspense, inspire her surrender, and force delirious pleasure on a woman who'd spent her life refusing to be tamed.
As her eyes watched where their bodies were intimately joined, he pushed between her glistening, pouty lips in one forceful, relentless thrust, filling her completely.
She made a sound he’d never heard—part gasp, part plea—as his rock-hard member pulled out and back in in a measured stroke, driving into her deep and tight, the pressure perfect.
He had to lock his jaw to keep himself from coming instantly, the feeling was so intense, so perfectly calibrated to the edge of pleasurable oblivion.
He stilled, then tilted her hips up, rotating just a little, using the angle to hit every sensitive coil inside her. Her eyes rolled back. "Ahh," she moaned, voice shredded and beautiful. “Harder, faster.”
Liam breathed in through his nose, doing everything he could to keep his composure as he did as she asked, surging harder, faster, and holding her spread wide so she couldn't shift away from the intensity.
Her hands clawed at his shoulders, her nails clawing down his flesh, and he relished the evidence of her losing control.
She tried to say something, his name, maybe, or a curse, but all that came out was a breathless, silent cry as her mouth opened and her head fell back.
He felt her tighten even more, the spasm of her orgasm building again, and this time it drove him right to the brink.
He could barely hold back, could barely keep his movements steady, as she writhed beneath him, her body locking down on his steel rod like a vise.
He wanted to watch her come undone, to memorize the exact moment her pleasure broke her apart.
“Liam—” she gasped, and the sound of his name from her lips, wild and helpless, undid him.
Pleasure erupted through him like Mount Vesuvius.
He was gone. His hands moved to her hips, holding them in place as he slammed into her with a force that bordered on reckless, and let himself go.
His release tore through him in an eruption so white-hot he lost sense of up or down.
His body jerked with each staggering climactic peak.
His eyes closed, and stars appeared behind his lids as one aftershock and then another ricocheted through him, again and again, until he felt boneless and empty, every cell in his body spent.
He collapsed forward, bracing himself on his forearms as he tried to catch his breath.
Frankie was limp below him, arms flung wide as if she’d just run a marathon and fallen at the finish line.
He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard, and for a long moment, neither of them spoke.
The fire crackled. The room felt impossibly warm and safe.
She nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, mumbling something against his neck that he couldn’t quite make out but it sounded like, “Fuck that was good.” He smiled, feeling her heartbeat flutter against his chest, her nipples brushing his taut skin with each breath she took.
When his arms began to shake, worn out, completely eviscerated, he collapsed onto his back and brought her with him.
He was dimly aware of her tracing the tattoos on his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back.
He would happily remain in this cabin, just like this, for hours, days, or maybe the rest of his life.
They did stay like that for a long time, listening to the snap, sputter, and hiss of the wood in the fireplace and the wind rattle the windowpanes.
Neither spoke. There was nothing to say, really.
The words would come later. For now, it was enough just to exist in the same space, to feel each other’s heart beating, knowing it was beating for the other person.
He waited for Frankie to fall asleep like she normally did.
For her to drift off with her face pressed to his chest. When her breathing grew even, he’d lie awake, watching her features soften into dreams. But that didn’t happen.
Frankie was restless. She shifted and propped herself up on one elbow.
His eyes were closed, but he felt her studying his face.
“You’re staring,” he said, eyes shut, voice roughened by smoke and exhaustion.
“Maybe I am,” she shot back.
“Creepy,” he muttered, and she laughed, low and throaty.
“Deal with it. You’re interesting to look at.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Never heard that before.”
“Maybe you hang out with the wrong people,” she said as she smoothed her palm over his chest. “Can I ask you something?”
“Can I stop you?” he asked, for once not bothering to mask the affection in his tone.
When she didn’t immediately have a smart comeback, he opened his eyes. He found her biting her bottom lip, eyes filled with uncertainty as she scanned his face.
“Are you okay? I mean, are you okay? With all of this?” She gestured vaguely, as if indicating the tornado they’d just created. “With us?”
He blinked. “You mean the best night of my life? Yeah, I’m good.”
She rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was relieved at his answer. “Okay, just checking.”
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead and gently tucking it behind her ear. “You worry too much.”
“And you don’t worry enough,” she bit back.
“Pretty sure you worry for both of us.” He pulled her closer, folding her under his arm. “Go to sleep, Francesca.”
“Uh oh. Full name.” She snuggled closer to him. “Does that mean you’re serious?”
“I’m always serious,” he stated flatly.
“I know.” She nuzzled her face into his neck, and he felt her smile against his skin. “But you’re lucky I like you anyway.”
“Good, cause I love you.”
Her body tensed for an eighth of second before she relaxed, really relaxed, and melted into him. “I love you, too. Always. It was always you.”
Those words were the sweetest Liam had ever heard. No matter what else happened, as long as that was true, as long as he had Frankie in his arms, and she loved him… that was all he needed.