Chapter 10 Darby
DARBY
The longer I stare at him…
The bigger he gets.
Not that I’ve seen that many naked men. But he’s long, thick, and combined with his impressive strength, he’s quite honestly terrifyingly big. Everywhere. He could hurt me. Badly.
Which is exactly why he’s waiting. Why he was such an asshole at first. He’s used to running women off, the stoic, grim lumberjack persona protecting not just him but them as well.
My throat aches, even more touched that he allowed me to get so close, so fast. I’m still not sure how this fierce attraction happened, but now that I’m here…
I’m glad I took a risk and stepped outside of my comfort zone.
In fact, knowing such a big, powerful man is so aroused—by me, no less—gives me the confidence to look up at his face.
I watch the way his jaws flex as he gazes at my breasts.
His pupils are large and dark, his nostrils flaring.
Tendons stand out on his shoulders and arms as he strokes himself.
Holding himself back. Bringing himself under control.
I let out my breath in a soft sigh that snaps his attention to my face. “That’s so fucking hot.”
His eyes burn even hotter. “Not as hot as you, babe. Another time, I want to watch you touch yourself, but if you do it now, I won’t make it inside you before I come all over you.”
A wave of heat floods me. I’ve never masturbated with an audience before. It sounds so… erotic. Dirty. Something I would never do.
At least the old me.
The thought shatters through me, a startling revelation that I can’t quite fully examine.
Not yet. Though staring at him, I have to acknowledge one undeniable fact.
Even if I never see him again after this night, every man I go to bed with in the future will be compared to him in my head.
Not my ex-husband. Henrik’s image will be burned in my mind forever.
He leans forward and rubs just the tip of his erection against me. Not against my opening, but up and down my entire slit. Teasingly, he nudges my clit, sending a shockwave of sensation crashing through me. Again.
“Are you going to take it all, babe?”
His voice thrums deep inside me, half growl, half rumble. An earthquake tearing me apart. I can’t lie still beneath such torment. I arch my hips up toward him, wriggling closer, trying to get him inside me.
“Is that your answer?”
“Yeah.” He starts to slide in, just the tip, making me whimper. Shivers race down my spine.
“I want to hear you say it.”
Guh. He’s so thick. My breath catches, my heartbeat stuttering. He’s barely inside me and my brain is already on overload. Words. He wants words. “I want it. All.”
He drops forward, bracing his impressive weight on his left elbow. “That’s my girl.”
Moving closer pushes him deeper. I lose the capacity for breath, at least for a few moments. Too much sensation. The heat of his big body. The rough prickle of his hair. The steel flex of his muscles beneath my hands. Ragged sounds escape my throat.
He’s still not fully inside me. Still hovering above me. Carefully inching deeper.
I want his weight, crushing me into the mattress. Hugging my legs around him, I try to pull him in faster, working my hips side to side. Rolling up against him as much as I can.
He makes another low grunt, a vicious sound of hunger like a bear stumbling around in the snowy woods.
Then he shoves deeper. Slowly—but relentlessly.
Stuffing me full. On and on, a slow, incessant plunge over the edge of a cliff.
I claw at his back desperately, writhing beneath him, whether to escape or hurry him along, I’m not sure.
I can’t stop moving, even with my legs trembling and my breath a heavy, frantic pant.
Finally, he drops against me fully. Balls deep. Both of us are panting like we ran a marathon. He swipes hair back out of my face. “Still alive?”
I try to laugh but it comes out more like a creaky hinge. “Barely.”
His fingers trace over my cheeks. The pad of his thumb rubs over my bottom lip. His eyes gleam in the soft lamplight, intent and dark, just inches away.
My heartbeat jumps up in my throat. I’ve never seen that look in a man’s eyes before when he’s looking at me, but my body seems to recognize it. Even before he says the words.
“I may not know your last name, Darby, let alone where you live or where you came from. But here, now, you’re mine, and I’ll fight like hell to keep you right here in my bed.”
I open my mouth to respond but I don’t have words.
My brain slips into neutral, shorting out for a moment.
Nothing computes. I shut my mouth and start to shake my head a little, but his fingers tighten on my face.
Not hard enough to hurt me—but with the relentless grip of a man determined to make his point.
“Don’t say anything. Not yet. Not until I’ve had a chance to show you what I’m offering.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I lift my head and brush my lips over his. “I’m ready, Henrik No-last-name.”
His eyes narrow and he snags my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking and licking my lip until I moan. “Are you sure? Because I’m about to pound you through the bottom of this mattress.”
“Promises, promises.”
I expect him to pull back and start thrusting, but instead he nudges deeper, grinding against me. So heavy, so big, so thick, my eyes start to roll back into my head. Tremors ripple through me, small earthquakes building toward something devastating.
Reaching down to my hip, he lifts my leg up higher, tipping my pelvis up even more. Too deep, too much, another short circuit in my head. But then he pulls back, easing the intense pressure inside me.
Though now all of those incredible inches are gliding and dragging through my flesh.
Only to shove back deep enough I cry out.
A thud so heavy it could rock the cabin off its foundation.
It’s almost too much again, almost pain.
Internal parts of my anatomy that have never been touched before scream with sensation.
Then he’s backing away again, easing the pressure.
Letting me take a breath. Before he slams home again and again.
I start to unravel, a rag doll coming apart at the seams. His mouth seals over mine, and part of me wonders if his kiss is the only thing preventing my soul from escaping my body entirely.
I cling to him, his broad shoulders. Absorbing the flex and glide of muscle beneath my palms. His tongue in my mouth.
Taking my breath. Taking everything I have. Am. Gone.
Everything locks down. Hard. My spine bows, my hips vised around his waist. Shuddering, I come so hard I’m afraid I’ll break something.
A bone. His dick. Bite off his tongue. Rip out his beard.
Shatter all the windows in his house. I’m not even sure how I have enough air to scream but my ears ring and my throat aches.
Though all I hear is a bone-deep dull roar as he shoves deep and pours into me.
Leveled to the ground. Wiped off the face of the earth. It takes me a while to find my body again. To remember how to open my eyes.
He covers me, a hot, heavy, living and breathing blanket of muscle and brawn. His face nestles against my throat, his beard tickling my skin. He mumbles, “I’ll move in a sec.”
“No rush.” I comb my fingers through his shaggy hair, grateful he can’t see the ridiculously cheesy smile on my face right now. I feel amazing. Like incredible, leap tall buildings, win an Olympic gold medal amazing.
I didn’t know sex could feel like this. That a man like Henrik even existed. How sad is that? I’m thirty-three and have never had my rocks blown like he just did, and I was married for thirteen years. Thirteen!
I thought I had a decent married sex life. Michael and I had sex more than our friends, at least until the financial troubles took a toll.
Yet nothing in all the years I knew him compared to the last—what—two hours?—I’ve spent with this stranger.
The craziest thoughts pop into my head. Surely caused by an endorphin high. Nothing else.
It doesn’t have to end.
And…
I wonder how quickly he can do it again?