Chapter 13 #2
“Here’s the thing,” he said, whispering in her ear as her heart beat in her throat.
“If you were so bad at sex, then I wouldn’t want to rip your sweater off with my teeth.
See those hard nipples I’ve been thinking about for the last four years.
That I sucked two weeks ago when you almost climaxed from grinding against me. ”
She sucked in a breath, lust making her thoughts hazy.
He pulled back an inch from her lips. “Your move.”
She needed to make him understand. “I just…I get in my head and it’s hard to stop worrying. What I look like, feel like, smell like.”
He dipped his head, his nose tracing the curve of her neck. “You smell perfect. Feel like a ripe fruit I want to bite. Look unnervingly sexy in no bra.” He gulped as he stared at her breasts.
He grabbed her wrists with one hand and the other found her nipple and toyed with it. Agonizingly light brushes back and forth felt so, so good. She tried not to whimper.
“If it’s not feeling good, we stop, okay?” His look was earnest, soft.
She nodded, wanting his mouth on her. Anywhere.
“Okay,” she barely squeaked out between heavy breaths.
“This feel good?”
The studied technique made her clench every inner muscle. Somehow, it was more intense than anything else he’d ever done to her.
“Yes,” she moaned. Shoot. She’d meant to play it cool, unaffected.
A knowing smile curved his lips. “I could do this all night. Listening to you beg me for more.”
She huffed out a laugh to cover her needy sobs. “Of course you’d love torturing me, sadist.”
He pulled his hand back an inch so that she had to push her chest out, chasing his touch. “And look at the masochist,” he said playfully into her ear, sending goosebumps down her arms, “leaning in for more, wanting her tits played with.”
“I hate you,” she said through unsteady breaths as he hovered over her lips.
“Not as much as I hate your ugly doilies.” A glint shone in his eye as her mouth dropped open in outrage, but he took the opportunity—the marauder—to kiss her.
The arguments she was building in her head started to fall away as he sucked on her bottom lip, raking his teeth over it.
“Doilies are art,” she gasped as his hands roamed down her hips, squeezed her ass. “They’re dismissed because they’re”—another heady kiss and ohmygod he smells so good—“made by women. Specifically”—Wells’s teeth skimmed her earlobe and her knees buckled—“the um…”
Another bite on her neck.
Fuuuuck me, that feels so good. “The fourteenth-century nuns…or…um, something—”
Wells pulled back with exasperation, his eyes on fire. “Would you just shut up already and let me put a baby in you, woman?” He lifted her up into a bridal carry.
Her shriek at being picked up was cut off by his mouth on hers. He walked them across the room and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed.
She bounced as she landed, still full of horny outrage. “Don’t tell me to shut up.”
“You wanna talk? Fine, we can talk.” His hand came to her breast. “Let’s talk about your tits. Fuck, I always wanted to know what they looked like.”
He slid the hem of her shirt up, revealing her breasts. Her clit throbbed at the cool air on her skin, the happy gleam in his eyes as he took her in.
He laughed in surprise. “Better than I’d even pictured. Every time you stomped at me in anger, I got the best—” He ducked his head to suck on one nipple. “—show, them bouncing along. Pictured my cock right here.” He licked a track between them, then pressed his face into her cleavage with a moan.
She felt so fucking sexy. She felt wanted. Desired.
Her breast pillowed onto his face as he nuzzled into her. “All while you scowled at me,” he said, moving to the other one, sucking harder, and she squealed in pleasure.
His weight pressed against her and felt delicious.
She held his head to her breast, wanting him to stay there.
To make her feel so good, so precious. His tongue moved back and forth against her nipple, and she arched off the bed in pleasure.
He made her take it, not giving an inch as his eyes locked with hers.
“Sadist,” she moaned.
He palmed her pussy though, and a sob of “yes” slipped out.”
“Oh, fuck me,” he cursed against her skin as he ground his palm against her. “No panties either? You want this cock so badly, don’t you?”
Yes. It was imperative, though, that he didn’t know how much she wanted him. “Just being practical.”
Staring from directly above her, he slowly slid his hand under the fabric of her leggings, down her stomach, and straight into the wet heat of her pussy.
She gasped as he palmed her, a possessive move, his eyes lighting on fire. It felt right to have his fingers sliding into her.
How was that possible?
Like they needed to be there. Like she’d give anything for him to keep going.
He pulled his hand back, and she moaned in protest. He held up his coated fingers in triumph. “False, Styles. Look at how wet you are.” He licked one slick finger. “You want it so bad.”
She didn’t have it in her to disagree as he slid his hand back into her pants—thank god—and her hips arched to meet his fingers.
He captured her mouth with a growl. “Taste so fucking good,” he muttered between kisses, as he pulled her yoga pants down so that all that was exposed was her pussy.
She was feral with need for him, would do anything if he didn’t keep going. His thick fingers slid deep into her, and his thumb flicked her clit back and forth.
“Yes.” With every flick, the drumbeat gathered speed. “Yes,” she moaned.
“You want to be fucked hard and fast? Bred on this cock?” he growled in her ear.
She clenched around his fingers as she imagined him fucking her like that. “Fuck,” she cried, the surge of hot need catching her by surprise.
Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she fluttered her eyes open, missing his mouth against hers and his fingers inside of her.
“Little Miss Prim and Proper has a breeding kink.” He kneeled above her, his dark eyes gleaming, unbuckling his belt. “I’ve got good news for you, Miss Prim.” He took his cock out, pumping it. “I do too.”
She gulped at the girth in his hand. “Wow,” escaped her lips as she looked at it with wide eyes.
He spread the bead of precum on the red, thick head. The width would stretch her. She clenched around nothing, squirming and wanting something inside of her.
He tugged on it as he leaned over her and kissed her, light and teasing.
Feral need—not caring what she looked like or what he thought—unlocked inside her as she licked into his mouth, ratcheting up their kiss, and he growled, yanking her leggings off.
“Beg for my cum right here.” His fingers slid back into her, and she moaned, throwing her head back at how much she needed him.
“Yes, right there,” she sobbed as he slid another finger in deep.
“Beg to be bred, Miss Prim,” he whispered in her ear and pulled his fingers out, dragging the tip of his cock along her seam. The head of it circled around her aching clit as her orgasm built, his tongue against hers as her hips ground against his cock.
“Beg me to fill you up,” he panted, stroking his cock against her. “Dripping, full of my cum. Getting pregnant with my baby.”
“Oh fuck.” She wanted that. Needed it. “Yes, please, please.” And she lost herself in begging as his cock slid back and forth on her clit. “Please, Wells,” she moaned into his ear.
Finally, finally he slid into her.
They gasped at the tight, hot fit. Their eyes locked for one breathless moment.
His hand came to her jaw, and he kissed her hard, one kiss turning into more and more, drinking each other in with gulp after gulp of need.
He slowly thrust against her, and she threw her head back, arching up. He palmed her bare breast, giving another hungry thrust.
So close. I’m so close. She slid a hand down to her clit.
Wells yanked her hand away. She looked up in shock as he pinned her hand down.
He was hovering over her mouth, looking mad as hell and possessive.
She liked it.
“I’m the one who’s breeding this needy pussy,” he panted, a thumb on her clit. He circled it and she gasped. “You want it, you tell me.”
He circled her clit, and she arched her back again in pleasure.
“Say it,” he growled, his steely eyes hungry.
“Make me,”—oh god—“make me come.” The perfect rhythm against her clit grew faster, needier.
“Yes,” she moaned slowly into his mouth. “More.”
He chuckled, thrusting hard into her, dark delight in his gaze as their eyes locked. “Beg me to breed you, Styles.”
Yes. She wanted that. Wanted to be his and filled and used. “Fuck me,” she sobbed. “Please, breed me. Fill me”—she arched as he hit her G-spot—“up, Wells. So close,” she whined.
He thrust harder, his head falling to her shoulder as his thumb kept going around and around her clit. “Milk this cock when you come. Take it all.”
Allison screamed out her climax, loud and long, with the perfect rhythm of Wells’s cock and thumb sending her over the edge.
Wells moaned into her shoulder as he shuddered and came, thrusting hard as she raked her fingers up through his hair, holding him to her.
They stilled, somewhere outside of time and space—in the in-between.
Where only heartbeats and kisses and panting breaths belonged.
They’d done it.
They’d officially started trying to have a baby.
Allison gathered her wits that she’d screamed all over the room as she blinked back into this time and space. I should be propping my hips up.
Wells slowly, so slowly slid out of her. He watched with eagle eyes as she tilted her hips up onto a pillow.
Oh, god. He was going to be insufferable now. She’d screamed his name while coming harder than she had with anyone else.
Maybe ever, actually.
“Don’t look so smug,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “This doesn’t mean it’s going to happen every time.”
“Sure,” he said as he zipped his fly, though his face looked more like the hell it won’t. “An ovulation window is usually, what, three, four days?” he said, pulling on his watch.
Holy moly, I get to do this tomorrow. She schooled her features so that she didn’t look too excited because then she would never hear the end of it from him.
“Three days is what my tracker says.” Her stomach growled suddenly, and she put her hand over it.
“What do you want to eat?” he said, grabbing his stuff from the dresser.
“I don’t need anything,” she said, pulling a blanket over her lower half.
He sighed as if she was exhausting. “I’m making food. What do you want?”
“I’m fine.” She shrugged.
He glared at her. “You’re the oldest, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she said slowly.
He rubbed his eyes. “And you haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m going to make you food, and you don’t have to eat it now. But for future reference,” he said, gritting his teeth, “what is your favorite sandwich?”
Why would he bother? “You don’t know what I have in my kitchen.” Her stomach growled again.
He shook his head in exasperation. “Fine, I’ll figure it out myself,” he said as he walked downstairs.
The urge to boss him out of her kitchen was barely outweighed by her wanting his sperm to take hold.
She closed her eyes instead, replaying the highlights of the last twenty minutes.
She realized he’d played her like a fiddle, maneuvering her, getting her out of her head, getting her mad and orgasming all because he wouldn’t stop talking.
There hadn’t been time to get distracted, to worry about anything, to think about the to-do list that was waiting for her, to relive all the bad memories. Like in seventh grade when Brad Melnick said her breath smelled gross, or when Keith said she looked weird when she climaxed.
Heavy footsteps came up the staircase, and Wells held out a plated grilled cheese sandwich.
“You didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s a sandwich,” he said, shrugging off her concern. “You’re obviously hungry.”
“No, I’m not.” Her stomach gave a traitorous growl because she was hungry now that the whole thing was over with.
He sighed, putting the plate beside her. “So annoying.” He walked downstairs, shaking his head.
She heard him put on his shoes and go out the front door.
She stared at the sandwich, befuddled.
She’d never been aggressively taken care of before.