Chapter Four #2
"Morgan," I cry out as his fingers bruise my hips as he tilts me against the wall. I rock down, feeding the crown of him inside of me.
"Jesus, so soaked for me," his voice hums against my throat as he bends his head. His teeth close on my nipple, sending a sharp lick of pleasure right to my clit. I shake against him as he sucks at me, through my lace bra, my silk blouse. "Silky tight, hell, I will fit inside you so good, Maren."
"Oh, oh," I throw my head back against the dusty drywall as the dual sensations detonate the pleasure bomb inside of me. "Morgan, fuck, I’m coming.... I am coming for you," I shout, my hips rocking forward as I cling to him, taking just a little more of him inside of me.
"Oh shit.... Maren if you come on my cock.... oh fuck. I’m going to.... honey, I’m going to come. Will you let me come on your pretty pussy? Fuck, I want to cover you with it," he hisses against my mouth, his hips jerking even as he pulls back, giving me the option to refuse him.
Fisting his hair, I steady myself as I drop my hips. Our gazes lock as I nod, urging him on, wanting nothing more. "Yes, yes, I want you to. Come for me, Morgan. Just for me, no one else," I purr as I circle my hips, teasing him with the tightness of my still pulsing sex.
"Hell, you’ve ruined me," he hisses, his gaze dropping to watch as he jerks against me, not entirely filling me as his orgasm detonates too.
Morgan lets out a feral growl before he slams me against the wall with his big body. His mouth fits to mine, and I open for his seeking tongue. I am trembling with aftershocks of my climax so feeling him come, watching him let go the way he just has, it sets off another flare for me.
He is not alone in the ruins.
"Morgan," I whimper as I cling to him, kissing him still, unable to stop now that we’ve got this started.
I might have imagined it since I first saw him across the street, dirty from work, laughing in the sunshine, but this is.
..this is not even close to that. It is a hell of a lot more and in the dim light of the dusty motel, it seems as if we realize it at the very same moment.
"Come home with me. I can make dinner, then I can make you do that a hundred times if you let me," he offers, kissing a path down my throat, his hands gripping my hips so tight his fingerprints will bruise my skin. I hope they do. I want something tangible from this moment.
"Morgan I don’t...uh...I have never...I mean I’ve been with someone," I ramble, flushing as his eyes flare, his hips punching forward.
"Do you good not to talk about being with someone else with my cock still sticky with our cum, honey," he tells me with an evil smirk.
"What I meant is...oh, god," I moan as he pushes forward, filling me just a little more, though I think we both get off on the almost-there. This is not sex—not yet. It’s a tease, an appetizer before a big, delicious meal. One we’re both obviously craving, starved for even.
"Don’t need to know about anyone else," he hums against my jaw. "Because you won’t remember them if I do it right. I sure as hell do not remember anyone else, not since I walked into that office and saw you sitting there. Oh, hell, you’re not being a very good girl, honey," he groans as I rub against his chest, loving the way his skin feels beneath the silk of my top.
"Who said I was going to be good for you? I don’t want to be good, not for you. You would let me be anything I wanted, wouldn’t you?"
Morgan really slams me against the wall now, his hips pinning me in place, his cock brushing deliciously between my slit. "Hell, yes, I will let you be anything you want, Maren. Ain’t that what a man does for his woman?"
Well, if I was not so close to coming with his big body pressed against mine, the rock of his hips, the brush of my breasts on his chest, those words would do it for me.
I throw my head back with at thud, crying out as I come again.
What has he done to me? I am not about sensation or idealization.
At least not before I met him. There was never.
..no sensation of being safe. Not until he showed up at my office with coffee and a little conviction.
"Does making me come make me your woman?"
Morgan smiles, slow, big, his eyes lighting up as he tilts his head.
"Oh, no honey, not even a little. Making you want to come for just me.
Make me want to come just for you. This.
..neediness burning hot between us, that is what makes this what it is.
Had no clue I could need this way before I met you.
Moment I set sight on you, Maren....there was no going back for me. "
Staring up at him, I smile. Big, even bigger than the adorable smile on his handsome face.
It feels as if it comes from inside me, this smile.
I’ve never felt anything like it before—nothing like what I’ve felt since I set sight on him too.
I thought it was a crush, something that would pass once I had to face him, to see what he was truly about.
This is no crush—which means I am in serious trouble.
"Come home with me," he repeats, his forehead rolling against mine. "I want to be with you tonight. I want this," his lifts me against him, smirking when I let out a little moan of pleasure. "I want a hell of a lot more too."
Nodding because I am not sure I can speak at the moment, I agree.
His rewarding smile tells me I made the right choice.
Tilting his head, he kisses me soft, slow, pulling back to fix my skirt.
Then he fixes his jeans, pulling my panties off his shaft but tucking them in his back pocket.
I laugh, swatting at them as he zips up, his head cocking at the wall behind me.
"That’s fucking perfect, I am keeping that," he smirks when I gasp at the ruined wall. We made a mess of his handiwork.
"Oh no! You were working...I came to tell you about.... we can talk about that later. Can I...do you want me to come home with you?"
"Uh, I meant what I said, that shit ought to be framed.
Some of my best work. Yes, I want you to come home with me.
I want you at my place, I want to cook for you, to kiss you anytime I want.
I will wreck every wall at my place just this way if you let me," he jerks his head at the wall where the perfect imprint of my backside, of his hands pressed against the wall, our bodies twisted together, make an impression in the drywall and plaster.
"Is that what you call good work, Mr. Brant?" I tease.
Morgan grins down at me, turning to walk me out of the room. "Oh, that is some of my best work, honey. I will put in some more tonight to remind you. Leave your car here, ride with me."
Pulling a shirt on, he laughs when I pout and push at it playfully.
Only then I hear what he said. Leave my car here, ride with him.
Let myself get taken to his place, after we hooked up the way we did, and get stuck there.
Something about the idea of going to his place without a way to escape if I have to.
..it scares me. I always have an exit plan.
Not just with loans or meetings with investors.
With every single interaction in my life.
It is a burden and a blessing to always check exits, to always look for an escape.
What would happen if I have no escape from Morgan?
"N-no. Let me just...follow you there."
Morgan tilts his head back at me after I stutter the argument.
He does not approve. I don’t care. I am leaping headfirst here, so he has to take me as I come.
A little scared. A lot uncertain. Despite my attraction to him, the pull that I am not sure I can fight now that I’ve let it wrap itself around me, I am good at self-preservation.
If my back is against a wall, more figuratively than it just was, I am not responsible for how I react.
"We can do that, honey," he hums, walking me back towards me car, opening the door to load me in. Bending, he kisses me soft, slow, brushing his nose against mine. "Don’t get lost, Maren. I will come find you."
Laughing, I push him out of the door of the Rover, shaking my head.
I can’t ignore the thrill his threat fills me with.
I think he would come find me. It’s not as if there is a lot of places to look in True Ridge.
I would let him find me, if I am being honest. I just need a moment to consider what the hell is going on with us.
Just a few days ago, I was rude, I was cold to him during our meeting. Because that self-preservation of mine was activated. The moment I was alone, I touched myself, wishing it were him. I want him. I want him in a way I’ve never wanted someone before—nothing has even come close.
Which means as I follow him to his place—being a good girl despite proclaiming my desire to behave otherwise—I am looking for an exit route.
Because he might be good at fixing things, but can he fix the parts of me that were broken before him?