Chapter 20 Calder #2
Oh, sweet girl, still lying to yourself.
“No, you’re right. It changes everything.” I slam my mouth against hers, sealing her lips closed before she can respond. I don’t want to hear about all the ways this is wrong. I want to make her feel it, want to prove to her that she does desire me just as much as I want her.
Saint’s body melts against mine, and she kisses me back with a desperate fury that tastes like rage and whiskey. This kiss is raw and messy, but real. So fucking real.
Her movements are uncoordinated at first, but it doesn’t take long for her to figure out what she’s doing. She bites my lower lip hard enough to sting.
Fuck. That only makes me ache more for her. I growl against her mouth, and she does it again. It’s like she’s trying to hurt me. Trying to make me feel even a fraction of the pain she’s drowning in.
Fine. If she wants to fight, if she wants me to feel her pain, then I will. I’ll drown in it for her. Breaking the kiss, I blaze a trail of fire from down her throat, dragging my teeth over her thundering pulse. A tiny gasp escapes her lips, and she digs her fingers into my shoulders.
“This doesn’t fix anything,” she pants.
“I know.” I bite gently where her neck meets her shoulder, loving the way her body reacts to me. She’s such a fucking liar. A beautiful, rage-filled, sexy liar.
“We shouldn’t—” She starts to say, but stops, tipping her head back to give me better access to her throat.
“Is that what you want? For me to stop?” I ask, lifting away from her body.
“No!” she growls and pulls at my shirt with increasing urgency until I help her get it off.
“That’s what I thought.”
“Shut up! Kiss me. Do something else with your mouth besides talk.”
I choke on a bubble of laughter. “Oh, I plan on doing all kinds of things to you. With my lips, tongue, fingers, and cock. I’m going to mark you and claim every inch of you.”
“Saying and doing are two different things,” she fires back, as her palms splay across my muscled chest, her fingers tracing scars she can’t quite see fully in the dim lighting. Another man might be insecure about their scars, but I’m not. How could I be when her touch feels this good?
“I can’t be the only one getting naked here,” I whisper against her lips.
She freezes, and right when I think maybe this is when she decides to stop, she reaches for the hem of her sweater and rips it off over her head in one quick motion, then tosses it to the floor.
My heartbeat spikes when I get a good look at her.
It’s not like she’s wearing anything fancy.
Just a simple cotton bra, but it’s not about the clothing.
It’s about her. Her delicate pink nipples poking through the sheer fabric are enough to kill a man.
If I don’t get to taste her soon, I’m going to explode. I reach behind her and unhook the bra.
She shoves the straps down, and it falls to the floor, leaving her completely exposed. Vulnerable. Mine.
“Bedroom,” I manage.
“No. Here.” She tugs at my belt. “Now.”
“So bossy,” I tease and take her by the hips.
I gently lift her onto the counter and wedge myself between her legs. The position puts us at eye level, her thighs bracketing my hips.
Fuck. I’m reminded how much smaller she is than I am. How fragile and perfect she is.
Saint gets my belt undone and pops the button on my jeans, then shoves them off my hips. My vision blurs, and I suck a pained breath through my teeth when her hands wrap around my cock. Holy shit.
She squeezes the length, and I choke on air.
“Fuck.”
“You’re so thick and long.” Her voice is a whisper against my skin, smug, soft, and devastating. She strokes me slowly, like she’s memorizing every inch of me with her hands, mapping the shape of what she does to me.
I can’t think—I can barely stand. The whole world narrows to her touch, to the sensations building in my gut, to the pleasure that zips up my spine.
“Saint…” My voice comes out low, wrecked. “You’re killing me.”
She looks up at me through her lashes, innocent and sinful in the same breath, and that’s when she tightens her grip on me, and I swear my knees tremble.
“You feel better than I imagined,” she murmurs.
A curse rips from my throat, and my hands fly to her hips, needing something to hold on to before I lose every ounce of control I’ve been pretending to have.
I flick the button on her jeans, and she leans forward, lifting her hips just enough so I can peel them off her, right along with her little white panties.
I’m leaking precum all over, and I can’t put into words how fucking gone for her I am.
“Touch me.” Her voice is a whispered plea.
As if I could fucking say no.
Shifting, she spreads her legs, and I slowly slide my fingers between her folds to find her clit. She’s soaked, but she’s not ready to take my cock, not yet.
“Look at me,” I murmur.
When she looks at me, it feels like she’s staring into the depths of my soul. Her eyes are wide, full of something raw—fear, need, maybe both. It undoes me. Reminding myself that this is her first time helps to cool some of the burning heat in my veins.
Be gentle. Don’t scare her.
I slip one finger into her slowly, and try not to succumb to the warmth of her body.
She’s tight, so fucking tight, and I grit my teeth and breathe through the way it hits me.
This is mine. She is mine. Watching her face, I pump in and out, letting the sensations build, feeling the way her muscles loosen as I finger fuck her.
“That’s it,” I whisper against her mouth.
“Let me finger your pussy, claim it, prepare it for my cock.” Like a little kitten, she whimpers and clutches onto my shoulders, her nails skimming my own brand on the back of my shoulder blade.
Her hips jerk in helpless abandonment. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
“Calder—” It’s a half moan, half plea.
Knowing she needs more, I add a second finger, stretching her, while gently stroking her little clit with my thumb.
“Shhh, I’ve got you, sweet girl. That’s better, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she moans, and I can feel her nails sinking into my flesh, marking me. Fuck, the idea of wearing her mark, of her laying claim to me.
Just fuck.
“You gonna come for me?” I ask, upping the pace of my strokes, keeping constant pressure on her clit. “Come on my fingers like you’re going to come on my cock.”
“I want more.” She breaks off with a sharp inhale and reaches for me, trying to guide my cock to her entrance. I catch her wrist and pin it gently but firmly against the counter beside her hip. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.
“Not yet.” My voice comes out rough. “Not until you come for me.”
“No. I want you to fuck me.”
“And I will, as soon as I’ve made you explode on my fingers.” I slide a third finger inside her, feeling the tight resistance. She whimpers, her free hand clutching at my shoulder. “Feel that, sweet girl? That’s your virginity, and it’s mine. All. Fucking. Mine.”
She tries to free her wrist, but I hold firm. This is one thing I can control. One thing I can give her is pleasure before pain. Preparation instead of just taking.
“Let me go,” she demands, but her voice wavers.
“No,” I growl and continue to finger fuck her, stretching her, preparing her for my cock. “You wanted this, and now you’re going to take it. Take what I give you.”
Her eyes flash with renewed anger, but underneath it, I see the desperation. The need to feel something other than the terror of the future looming over us.
“Calder—” My name comes out broken, pleading. “Please.”
“Please what?” I lean in, mouth against her ear, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and skin beneath the whiskey. “Please stop? Please more?”
“I—” She cuts off with a sharp inhale as I curl my fingers, finding that special spot inside her. “I don’t know.”
“Then I’ll decide.” I increase the pressure, the rhythm, watching her unravel under my touch. Her skin flushes pink, her breath coming in short gasps. “You wanted to forget. So forget everything except how this feels.”
She comes apart on my fingers with a cry that she tries to muffle against my shoulder, her body clenching around me so tight it borders on painful.
I work her through it, drawing out every pulse, every tremor, feeling her wetness coat my hand.
When she finally sags against me, boneless and panting, I release her wrist.
“Now fuck me,” she demands when she can breathe again.
“Fuck you?” I position myself at her entrance, the head of my cock pressing against her slick heat.
She’s wet and ready, but still so tight.
So fucking tight, even though I just made her come.
It’ll be a damn miracle if I don’t rip her.
“If you want me to fuck you, then look at me. I want to see your eyes when I claim this virgin cunt.”
She looks at me, her gaze locking with mine.
There’s a dazed look there, mixed with fear and anger. Against my instinct to rut into her, to claim her, hard and fast, I ease into her slowly.
Just the tip at first, her body resisting the intrusion, her muscles tightening.
“Breathe,” I tell her, holding myself still even though I want to thrust deep.
“I am—” Her voice cuts off as I push deeper, inch by agonizing inch. Her whole body tenses, muscles locking up against the intrusion.
“Relax.” I press my forehead to hers, our breath mingling. “You’re making it harder.”
“Good.” But she tries anyway, breathing deep and uneven, and I feel her body start to give way. This allows me to slide in another inch. In response, she makes a sound low in her throat that’s pure pain, and I almost pull out.
Almost stop this before I hurt her more. As if she can read my mind, she wraps her hands around my hips, refusing to let me retreat. Gripping tight, she sinks her nails into my skin, and I hiss from the bite of pain.
“Don’t stop,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “Don’t you dare stop. Finish it.”