Chapter 32 #2
Once we finished eating, put the leftovers away, and set the kitchen to rights, Lane literally swept me off my feet and carried me to the bedroom.
When he was close enough, he tossed me on the bed, remaining at the foot.
With one hand on his hip and the tips of his fingers on the other toying with his bottom lip, he surveyed me.
“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, sunny.”
“Anything.”
He raised a brow. “Anything?”
Sitting up, I got to my knees and shuffled toward him. I reached for him, and he came to me, his hands settling on my hips.
“I think…” I trailed off, my chin tipping down. This conversation seemed so silly now, like I was making a big deal out of nothing. But to me it was a big deal. The biggest, in fact.
Lane’s fingertips tucked under my chin and forced my head back. “Sunny, you can tell me anything. Don’t hide from me.”
“I think I’m ready to try missionary,” I blurted.
He blinked in surprise. “You sure?”
Nodding, I added, “I want to feel your weight on me. I want you to surround me.”
“Fuck, you have no idea how badly I want that. But if it’s too much, you tell me and we switch positions, okay? If anything is too much, tell me. Got it?”
“Yessir,” I said, giving him a mock salute.
Slowly, Lane undressed me. He bunched my sweater around my chest, and I raised my arms so he could peel it free.
His fingertips trailed down my arms as I lowered them, blazing a scorching path across my collarbones, over the upper curve of my breasts, and down my sides to the waistband of my jeans.
Every touch had goosebumps erupting, sending jolts of pleasure to my core.
Deftly, he unbuttoned my pants and drew down the fly, then dug his palms inside to cup my ass before pushing them down.
Falling back, I kicked out of them, leaving me clad in only my bra and panties.
The same ones from the photo.
“Goddamnit, woman,” he breathed, eyes darting across every inch of my exposed skin. “Even better in person.”
Lifting my hands, I pressed my fingertips to my nipples, which peaked and strained against the satin of the bow covering them.
“This isn’t fair,” I pouted, waving a hand at his fully dressed body.
With a chuckle, Lane reached behind his neck and pulled off his shirt in one smooth, sexy as hell movement, then went for his belt, dispatching his pants in record time.
I would never tire of seeing his naked body, all that smooth, tan skin contrasted by the dark ink.
The heavy thighs and sculpted calves. The wide but trim waist, the cut of his obliques.
That precious little sunny I could now easily pick out amongst the rest of his tattoos.
He was a goddamn work of art, rivaling Michelangelo’s David in beauty.
And with a much bigger cock.
I scrambled backward until I could recline against the mountain of pillows, and Lane advanced, climbing up the mattress until he loomed over me.
But I wasn’t afraid. Not of him, not of this moment, not of how all-consuming my feelings for him were.
His eyes remained on mine as he plucked the end of the bow and tugged, scooping his fingers between my breasts to uncover my nipples.
Then he quickly freed the clasp so my tits tumbled into his waiting palms. I thrust my chest out as I shrugged the garment off and tossed it away.
Those calloused thumbs brushed over my nipples, and I threw my head back, eyes fluttering closed at the delicious sensation.
“Hope you weren’t planning on getting any sleep tonight,” he mused as he traced a single finger around my nipple, dipping into the valley of my chest and back up to the other side.
I grinned. “Of course not.”
“Good.” His pointer traveled lower, toying with the waistband of my panties. “Now, I think I’m ready for dessert.”
I dropped my knees, spreading my legs wider and baring more of myself to him. Lane’s gaze darkened, and a low groan rumbled from his chest. He shifted his touch to the strip of fabric at my hip, wound it around his fingers, tugged, and tore the scrap of lace from my body.
My skin stung slightly, but it was nothing compared to the heat pooling in my core.
Still, I protested. “Hey! I liked those.”
His answering grin was downright feral. “I’ll buy you more. Now can I taste you?”
Eagerly, I nodded. I loved that about him, that he was always giving me a choice, an out, never taking what he wanted and forcing me to be okay with it.
Dropping onto his stomach, Lane wasted no time ducking his head and licking a path through my center, from entrance to clit. The hot press of his tongue had my hands fisting the sheets.
Goddamn, he was good at that.
The tip of his tongue traced a path around my clit, teasing me, before dipping lower again and pressing against my entrance.
He appeared in no hurry, content to savor me like I was a decadent dessert he wanted to fully immerse himself in.
Lane gave zero fucks that I was already writhing against the bed, wriggling closer in a poor attempt to get his mouth exactly where I needed it most.
“So fucking greedy,” he mused, pressing one of his big arms against my leg to hold me in place and spread me wider.
I was unprepared for the onslaught, of his tongue flicking rapidly against my clit while he inserted two fingers into me, curling them against my inner walls.
Every time, he hit a spot that had my legs shaking.
He was ruthless in his pursuit of my orgasm, and it built quickly, higher and higher and higher.
“More,” I gasped, needing an extra push off the cliff.
When he sealed his mouth around my clit and sucked, still fluttering his tongue against it, I went flying. The edges of my vision darkened as my back bowed. Lane held me down while I trembled, his kisses against my slit turning slower and sloppier, like he was lapping up every ounce of my climax.
As sense returned, so did my desire for him.
I feared I’d never be satiated where this man was concerned.
My nails clawed at his shoulders, trying to haul him closer.
“Need you now.”
Lane crawled up my body, his arms fully extended, holding himself off me as he stared at me. “You sure?”
“Never been more sure about anything.”
“If it’s too much, you say so. Understood?”
“Yes, daddy.”
Lane moaned—actually fucking moaned—and lowered himself to kiss me. There was no finesse in it, only a man staking his claim on a woman, and I greedily met him. His necklace, the chain with the bullet that had nearly killed him, coiled between my breasts, the metal cool against my heated skin.
When he pulled away, he grabbed a pillow from behind me, lifted my hips, and positioned it beneath me. Then he reached between us. His fingers dipped into my slit, collecting some of my desire, and he worked it down his shaft before gripping it at the base and prodding my entrance with the head.
“You’re really sure?”
I nodded. “I’m really sure, Lane. Fuck me.”
At last, he pressed in, and I threw my head back, a long, satisfied sigh leaving me.
I could think of few things I loved more than the delicious stretch of when he first filled me, like his cock nestled deep inside me filled more than just my core.
The connection was unlike anything else in the world, like we were bound not just on this physical plane, but spiritually as well.
Before he moved again, he slowly lowered himself, giving me not quite all of his weight, but enough. Panic briefly flared, but I took a deep breath and waited for it to pass, grateful when it did quickly. This was Lane, and everything was okay. He would never do anything to hurt me.
When my eyes popped open again, I found him watching me, brow creased in concern.
“Okay?”
I reached up to smooth away his worry. “Better than.”
At last, he started to move, giving me long, languid strokes. Soon, our bodies were slicked with sweat and sliding together, his mouth never more than a breath away from mine, sharing air and kisses as he flexed in and out of me.
I’d forgotten how much more intimate this was, being inches—or in our case, centimeters—away from your partner’s face when fucking like this.
No, not fucking.
Lane and I were making love, as corny as that sounded. Slowly rocking together, my man made no move to quicken his pace. After the quick orgasm he’d given me with his mouth, I wanted to drag this out, to bask in this moment with him.
But there came a point when I needed more, and I truly had no idea how he wasn’t rutting into me like an animal.
I hooked my legs around his hips and dug my heels into his ass, wordlessly demanding more.
Lane obeyed the silent command instantly, knowing I wouldn’t ask unless I was certain.
With my permission, his control snapped completely, and he unleashed that beast. Sitting up, he gripped my ankles and tossed my legs over his shoulder, banding his arm around my thighs as he fucked me hard and fast. Pressing his other hand to my lower abdomen, he made me feel every inch of him sliding in and out of me.
It was the most delicious torture.
“Oh, fuckfuckfuck,” I moaned as the room filled with the slapping of our skin.
“Fuck, sunny. You feel so fucking good. You gonna come for me?”
I couldn’t verbally respond, could only make noises that I hoped he took as assent.
Clamping tighter around him, I held onto his forearms, fingernails digging into his skin.
Lane didn’t falter; in fact, he seemed to pick up the pace.
The headboard snapped against the wall hard enough that I distantly worried about leaving marks.
“Get there, sunny. Let go. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”
I did as commanded, shattering with a scream. Lane followed me down with a roar, spilling long and hot inside me.
When I returned to my body, he slowly pulled free, and I winced at his loss. Through heavily-lidded eyes, I watched him whose own attention remained focused between us.
His blue eyes—clearing slightly in the wake of his orgasm—flicked up to mine briefly.
“You have no idea how fucking hot it is to see my cum drip out of you.” His finger found me, and I twitched at the touch against my hyper-sensitive skin as he pushed it back inside.
“Wanna fill you up all the time just to watch this.”
A breathless chuckle left me, and I threw my arm over my eyes, taking a deep breath and willing my heart rate to slow. The bed shook as Lane flopped down at my side.
“That was intense,” I murmured.
“You okay?” he asked, settling one of his broad palms on my stomach. The gentle weight was a comfort, but also a reminder that I’d done this thing that scared me for so long and had survived.
That I would be okay.
“I’m great,” I assured him, opening my eyes and turning to face him. “But I can’t believe you ruined my underwear.”
He chuckled. “I said I’d buy you more.”
I waved him off. “No need to spend more money on them if you’re going to keep ruining them. I’m not gonna lie, that was pretty hot.”
“What do you mean, spend more money?”
“You bought those for me,” I said with a laugh. “Or did you forget already?”
There was no humor to be found in Lane’s face at my teasing, though.
“Sunny, I didn’t buy that stuff for you.”