Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Gianna
His thrust is hard. Unapologetic. Intense.
Absolute fucking perfection.
I’m pinned between the wall and Drake Bennett, and I don’t know which is harder.
My shoulders dig into the drywall as he slams into me again, as if he’s needed this as badly as I have. Each stroke is an intentional movement. Deliberate. Like he’s trying to commit this to memory through the fog like I am.
“Now this is cooperation,” I say, the sound coming out in small bursts around his thrusts. I leverage myself with my hands against his thick shoulders and tilt my hips to allow him to go as deep as he can possibly get. “Just like that.”
“You feel so good,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Give it to me harder.”
His chuckle is strained. “If I give it to you any harder, we’re both going through the wall.”
“I can afford renovations.”
Like the good man he is, he gives me what I ask for.
He drives into my pussy so deliriously deep that I cry out.
My voice pierces the air as I squeeze my eyes shut, vaguely aware of the sound of my body colliding with the drywall.
It’s borderline pain and pleasure, like I might be splicing into two, and the ferocity of the sensation makes me feel alive.
A painting crashes to the floor from overhead, sending thousands of tiny beads scattering across the hardwood.
“Don’t stop,” I say. “I didn’t like that piece anyway.”
He leans forward, capturing my lips with his, and kisses me like his whole life depends on it. Our mouths move together in slow, sensual movements like we’ve had a lifetime of practice. There is no learning curve; we’re in sync from the start.
“Bedroom?” He presses the words against my lips. “Which way?”
I motion vaguely to the right, moaning in displeasure as he slides out of me.
“I’m mad at you,” I say, locking my ankles around his waist and fingers working through his soft hair.
He smirks and carries me toward the bedroom. “If this is what being pissed looks like with you, I’ll endeavor to keep you madder than hell.”
“We could’ve been doing this for the past week, but you had to try to prove a point,” I say.
“Sometimes you have to sacrifice to—whoa.”
He stumbles over the cookie tin filled with buttons, kicking it across the room.
Buttons fly everywhere like circular confetti.
But as he regains his footing, he trips on a step stool—why did I not move it after I tripped over it?
—and we go lurching forward. Drake holds me up with one arm and catches us against the couch with the other.
Impressive.
“Sorry,” I say, wincing. “The life of an artist.”
“I hope you have good insurance.”
I tug on the roots of his hair and grind my pussy against him. “If you were an athlete, do you think you’d have better balance?”
“Excuse me?” He laughs, starting down the hallway. “I am an athlete.”
“No, but if you were a real athlete. Take the last door on your left.” My hips roll. The head of his cock is right there, and if I move just right … “Could you pretend you’re an athlete again and run? You did run in football, right?”
He squeezes my ass until it stings. “Wait. Just wait.”
“I have been. If you make me wait again, it will not end well for you.”
His eyes blaze as we enter the bedroom. The light is on in the en suite, illuminating the room just enough to see. Drake marches to the bed and tosses me onto the mattress. He’s hovering over me before I’m settled.
“What?” I ask, staring up at him.
A slow smile ghosts his lips. “Just making sure you’re real.”
I reach for him, pulling his face down to mine. His words do something goofy to my heart, and maybe if he kisses me, it’ll stop. His tongue swipes past my lips, deepening the kiss. Plunging into my mouth. Exploring it. Owning it.
He drops kisses down my throat, sternum, and across my stomach as he scoots down the bed. The kisses are less frantic but no less passionate than before. More reverent, maybe.
I writhe beneath him, aware of my loss of control. My heartbeat quickens as he rolls off the bed. He slides me to the edge by my ankles, his eyes on me always.
I take a breath. “Why don’t you—”
“Why don’t you lie back and relax?” It’s a statement and not a question. A carefully spoken request that’s really a command, softened by his recognition of my comfort zone. “All you have to do tonight is enjoy it.”
“But …”
“Hey.” One brow raises toward the ceiling. “Do you trust me? Because, if you don’t, I have no business being here.”
I search his eyes while his words claw at my defenses. Trust isn’t something I give easily. But, then again, it’s not something anyone has ever asked for. I suddenly find myself straddling a line, instead of straddling him.
I want to say no. That’s my instinct, my automatic response.
But when I open my mouth to relay the message, my heart won’t let the words come out.
Naked in front of him, exposed in so many ways, giving up control doesn’t feel reckless.
It’s a choice—a surrender instead of submission.
Something he’s asking me to do, not trying to take from me.
“Okay,” I say. “I trust you.”
“That might be the sexiest part of this whole night.”
My cheeks flush as he grabs my calves and pushes my legs toward me and my knees to the sides. The air touches my freshly waxed bits, making me shiver. But the look in his eyes, devilishly hot and downright sinful, has me trembling.
“That’s it,” he says, as he lets go of my knees, but I keep them wide. “Keep your pussy open for me.”
I lift my hips for him. “Better?”
He smirks, sliding a finger through my slit. My moan fills the air as he rocks a thumb over my swollen clit. I wiggle in a desperate plea for more.
“You’re going to come on my tongue, my fingers, and my cock tonight.” He pushes a finger, then two, inside me. “Where do you want to start?”
I grin at him, holding his gaze. “Tongue.”
His chuckle rolls through the air, hitting my core like gasoline on an already raging fire. He dips out of view, but his hands are all over me. Hips. Ass. Stomach. He squeezes my sticky thighs as he buries his face between my legs without warning.
“Fuck!” I gasp for breath as I begin to tremble. “Fuckkkk.”
He inserts his fingers again, twisting them before sliding them back out.
Every lick, flick, and stroke echoes through the room, mixing with my moans to create our own soundtrack.
His tongue presses against my clit before he sucks it gently, sending shock waves rippling from my head to my curled toes.
This is all about me—and it’s better than I possibly imagined.
“That’s so good, Drake.” He hums against my sensitive flesh. “Just like that.”
I rock against his hand and face, raising my head off the bed to see his face framed by my thighs. It’s picture-perfect—dream-worthy, and the sight of him like this, with my pussy in his face, is enough to send me toppling over the edge of bliss.
“Fuck!” I yell as the orgasm smashes into me, sending bolts of fire through my veins. “Fuck! That’s it. Oh my … Ugh. I’m coming so hard.” I clench my jaw, and my teeth grind together from the force of it all. “I can’t take it.”
“Yes, you can. Take everything I fucking give you,” he growls, and the vibrations are a level of indulgence I never knew existed.
He clamps down on my thighs, holding me in place, forcing me to ride out the waves of pleasure. I feel his gaze glued to me. He’s not missing a thing.
Finally, the intensity eases, and I sigh, sinking into the comforter. My legs are gelatin. My pussy trembles. But my mind? It’s a beautiful, peaceful, but muddled mess.
I’m aware he removes his fingers because another shudder wracks through me.
“You, Mr. Bennett, are invited to do that anytime you’d like,” I say, laughing.
He wipes my juices from his face, grinning. “I’ll remember that.”
“There are towels in the bathroom,” I say, motioning toward the lit doorway.
“Hell, no. I love the taste of you.”
My stomach blooms as I get to my knees, taking his body in for the first time. The man is a work of art. His physique is no accident—and every piece of it is hard.
Chiseled abs. Those lines down his obliques that make me drool. The seam of muscle running from his thigh to his knee … and that jawline. My God.
“You are seriously perfect,” I say, biting my lip. “I take back what I said about you being an athlete. It’s obvious.”
“Come here.”
I scoot to him. As soon as I’m within arm’s reach, he wraps an arm around me and hauls me into his chest. I giggle, draping my arms over his broad shoulders and sighing happily.
Our mouths find each other’s as if they’re now magnetic. He parts my lips with his tongue, and I can faintly taste myself on it. There’s something about being in his arms that I don’t hate. I kind of love it, actually.
“You are heaven,” he whispers, skimming his palms down and around me until he’s cupping my ass. “I mean it, Gianna. There’s nothing better than this.”
I tilt my head to the side as his kisses trail down my shoulder. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“Why?
“Because if you keep feeding my ego, I’ll crave the attention.”
He pauses, smiling against my shoulder. “And maybe that’s the point.”
This man. I sag into him, floating in the clouds at the sweetness of his words. I’m not someone who enjoys being fed lines or love-bombed, and I struggle to play along with it for the plot. But that’s the thing—this doesn’t feel like a plot. I don’t sense an undercurrent of bullshit.
If I wanted to, I might believe him.
He kisses me again. One arm holds me tight against him.
His other hand comes down against my ass.
The crack breaks the silence, loud and jolting.
It’s more bark than bite, so to speak, but the combination of the sound and the sting is so deliciously good that I can’t stop the moan from spilling out of my mouth.
“Oh,” he says, pulling back to see my face. He massages the spot where he spanked me. “Did you like that?”
“If your objective was to make me want you to fuck me hard from behind, then, yes. I enjoyed—ah!” I yelp as he smacks me again. “That makes me so wet.”
“When I fuck you in just a second, I want to hear every little noise you make. Let me hear you. Got it?”
“It’ll be my pleasure.”
“Literally,” he says, turning me around. “Bend over.”
I get on all fours and look at him over my shoulder. His cock is in his hand as he caresses my ass cheek.
“Wanna fuck that?” I ask, swaying it back and forth.
“Now, you’re playing a dangerous game.”
I grin. “Why?”
“Because if you keep being so fucking perfect, I’ll never be able to leave you alone.”
“And maybe that’s the point.”
I barely get the words out before he plunges into me. I bite back a hiss as he grips my hips and holds me in place.
“I wanna hear you,” he says, thrusting into me. “Do you like this? Tell me what you like.”
All of it with you.
“Gianna …”
My name is a warning, a thinly veiled threat that there will be repercussions if I fail to comply. Instead of pissing me off, it turns me on. Because I know he’s not going to hurt me in any way that I don’t want him to.
“Deeper,” I say, hissing loudly. “I love it when you go deep like that.”
“I feel your pussy pulsing around my cock.”
“It’s about to go off again if you keep this up.”
My tits hang heavily, aching from the orgasm building in my core. I arch my back, rocking into him thrust for thrust, the world around us nothing but a distant fog. I never come from this position, but it seems that’s about to change.
A moan slips from my parted lips, and I whimper as his fingers nearly touch my hip bones. Deep pressure builds between my legs as they begin to shake.
“I’m going to come,” I say, unable to stave it off. “I can’t stop it.”
“Don’t. I want to feel you come on my cock.”
I pant, shivering as the intensity builds. Drake tenses behind me, and I sense he’s trying to wait on me to come before he lets go. The thought of him coming inside me does it.
“Fuck!” I scream, this one far more powerful than the first.
He drives into me, his grip flexing against my skin. I look over my shoulder to see his head tipped back and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Every muscle is tense as he growls into the air.
I did this to him.
His motions grow slower, and I gently tumble back to reality. His body has one final tremble before he sags in satiated relief. A smile touches his lips that I haven’t seen before, and it’s my new favorite.
“A-plus work,” I say, wincing as he pulls out of me. A drop of cum falls onto my leg. “That’s fun.”
He chuckles. “Want me to run you a bath?” He pauses. “Do you have a bath?”
I laugh, too. He’s going to make me come like that and not flee immediately so that he can run me a bath? Wow. I decide to push it—to see how far he’ll really go.
“I would like that on one condition,” I say.
“Name it.”
“If you take it with me.”
He shrugs casually. “Done.”
I fall backward into the comforter and watch him walk into my bathroom like he owns the place. With confidence and maturity.
And one hell of a cock.