Chapter 40
The thunder cracks overhead, rattling the thin walls of the shack, and the vibration running through my shoulder blades pressed against the rough wood.
Rain hammers the roof in sheets, a relentless percussion that matches the pounding of my heart.
Easton’s body cages mine in, his heat a stark contrast to the damp chill in the air.
The broad head of his cock nudges against my entrance—the pressure both terrifying and exhilarating—as my world narrows to nothing but the two of us.
My breaths are ragged, with a mixture of excitement and nerves.
The way his heartbeat is thumping against my palms, I can only assume he feels the same.
He doesn’t rush, even though we’re both practically vibrating with need.
Easton grips my hips, holding me in place as he shifts his weight, leaving me suddenly very aware of the slick friction of him pushing against me. He’s much larger than any of the men I’ve been with, and as much as I want this, my body betrays me and tenses at the thought of taking him.
“Relax for me, wildfire,” Easton commands softly, his voice dropping so low that it courses through me. “Breathe.”
I exhale, trying to obey, but my body trembles as he sinks deeper. He feels huge, a solid block of heat and muscle waiting to invade my space. He leans down, his forehead resting against mine, as our eyes lock with an intensity that causes my heart to sputter.
“Look at me,” he orders gently as he eases himself inside. “Don’t look away.”
The stretch is sharp, a burning fire that shoots through my nerves.
I gasp, my back arching off the wall. My fingers squeeze his shoulders, digging into his skin to keep from pushing him away.
“You’re doing so well.” His jaw tight as he fights to hold back, he tenderly strokes my cheek as he whispers against my lips, “So eagerly taking all of me.” He takes his time working himself into me, inch by agonizingly perfect inch, until he has filled me completely.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Easton groans, a mixture of satisfaction and hesitation as he pauses for a moment, his warm breath blowing across my cheek. Letting us both adjust. He moves his hips, working himself in and out of me in short, shallow thrusts to let me get used to the sensation. “That’s it.”
Easton pulls nearly from me before easing every inch of him deep inside, taking me with long, leisurely strokes.
“You’re taking me so well.” He drives into me harder, and I cry out, my head falling back against the wall.
With my chin between his fingers, he pulls my face toward his, forcing me to look at him.
“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, his eyes darkening with lust. “So warm and wet. So perfect for my cock.”
He’s not guessing or following the same poorly written set of instructions as the boys I’ve been with. He knows exactly how to hit that spot inside me to make my toes curl. Every stroke is calculated, like he already knows exactly how to please me.
He picks up the pace, not holding back, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.
The friction builds, a coil tightening in my core as the sounds of our bodies coming together fills the space around us.
I flex my hips, meeting each of his drives.
Staccatoed grunts and mewls spew over my lips as he works me toward my release.
“That’s it,” he says again, setting a rhythm that blurs my vision. “Let me hear you. I want to hear exactly how good I make you feel.”
“God… I… Easton…” I pant, teetering on the brink.
“Let go, wildfire,” he breathes against my ear. “I’ve got you.”
I whimper, and he rewards me with a roll of his hips that grinds against my clit.
The added sensation is my undoing. The orgasm crashes through me like the storm outside—violent and beautiful—a tidal wave of pure electricity that steals the air from my lungs and completely shatters me.
My back arches from the wall, dragging my breasts up his chest as my short nails dig down his shoulders, drawing a deep groan of approval from him.
He continues to drive into me as I spiral through the abyss of ecstasy until I’m nothing but a puddle of pleasure.
“Such a good girl,” he praises. Those two words send a shiver down my spine, a mix of intense arousal and submission. I’m his. In this moment, he owns me.
His lips crash against mine with a force that quickly leaves me breathless.
The urgency softens almost immediately, melting into something deeper.
His mouth moves with reverence instead of hunger—slower and deliberate—like he’s trying to memorize me rather than of consume me.
The rough skin of his calloused hands dust along my sides.
They roam over the curve of my hips and firmly grip the back of my thighs.
“I want to watch you come again,” he groans as he lifts me with ease, wrapping my legs around his waist, reangling my hips, and allowing him to thrust even deeper. “And you’re going to give me what I want, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I muster the word on a moan.
I’m impaled on him, stretched and filled in ways I didn’t know existed.
Each drive of his hips sends sparks skittering through my nerve endings, building something hot and tight in my belly.
He moans his pleasure into my ear, a wordless praise that leaves me in the throes of another blinding, mind-numbing release.
I scream his name into the storm, my body seizing around him.
He stills, letting me ride it out, his forehead pressed against mine, every nerve between us taut with tension.
Lightning flashes through the single grimy window, illuminating his focused, revered expression.
His jaw is tight, and his body is coiled with restrained need.
When my tremors subside, he begins moving again, quickly working himself back up to a punishing pace.
Each impact drives me against the wall. The rough wood scrapes my back, but I don’t care.
I can’t. He’s hitting something inside me that makes white sparks dance across my vision, leaving me almost unable to think.
“Teagan,” he grits my name. I open my eyes and am met with his dark gaze. His pupils are blown wide, and his control hanging by a thread. “Fuck… I’m going to come…” Easton’s voice strains with urgency.
The confession penetrates the haze of my pleasure. Shit! Did I take my pill this morning? The split second of risk sends a dark, dangerous thrill through me, but I nod. “It’s okay,” I breathe. “I’m on the pill.”
He groans something vaguely resembling, “I can’t,” as indecisiveness flickers across his face.
He thrusts a few more times, each one hitting that devastating spot inside me.
Abruptly withdrawing on a groan, he fists his cock between us.
I watch him fall apart as it pulses and hot ribbons of cum spill across our stomachs.
His release is warm against my skin, intimate and filthy.
We stand there, both trembling as the storm rages outside, the sounds now muffled by the thundering of my heartbeat and our ragged breaths.
Easton wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. His hands stroke my back, gentle and soothing, his touch no longer demanding but tender. “Are you okay?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my hair as he carries me.
I nod against his shoulder, unable to form words. He drags me to his chest as he takes a seat on an old cot in the corner and positions me across his lap. I curl into him, boneless and sated.
“Let me clean you up,” he insists, holding me tight to him with one arm as he stretches down to the floor to grab his discarded shirt from earlier. “I’m sorry.” His eyes fall to the mess on my skin as he apologizes softly. “I haven’t… with anyone since… And I couldn’t—”
“It’s okay,” I manage as he wipes the cold, still-wet fabric carefully over my thighs and sensitive pussy before thoroughly cleaning the cum from my stomach. When he finishes, he drags the shirt along his abs before tossing it back to the floor.
His hand slides up along my jaw, the rough palm cradling my face with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
He kisses me again and again, each pass of his lips gentler than the last, nothing like the desperate hunger from before.
When he exhales against my mouth, the sound is cracked and uneven, like he’s just as undone as I am.
“You’re okay,” he whispers against my hairline, as his thumb brushes beneath my eye, tenderly wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized had gathered there. “I’ve got you.”
He pulls a dusty blanket from the foot of the cot over us to keep me warm.
After lying us both on the thin mattress, he guides my head to his chest and traces lazy patterns over my skin.
Nuzzled against him, I let my eyes close as I listen to his heartbeat, a slow, steady rhythm that quickly lulls me.
“Good night, wildfire.” Easton kisses the words against the top of my head as I fall asleep.