5. Lars #2
“I—” she shutters. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.”
I raise my fingers to my mouth, sucking them slowly, eyes still on hers. “Most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”
I stand, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, and she stares at me like she’s trying to remember how language works.
“You,” she breathes, “are dangerous.”
I lean in, kiss her slow and deep, letting her taste herself on my tongue until her breath evens out.
She melts into it, one hand on my jaw, the other roaming over my chest. Her tongue slides against mine, slow at first, then deeper, needier.
I feel her fingers slip under my open shirt, forcing it down my arms and I discard it to the floor.
Her hands return to my skin, skimming my stomach, nails lightly scratching across my abs. My breath breaks against her mouth.
I stand, and she crawls to the side of the bed, hands reaching for my belt. My eyes close as she covers my stomach with featherlight touches of her lips and gentle strokes of her tongue.
I usually keep sex a rushed, chaotic chase to a finish. But right now, she’s slowing me down, making me feel something unfamiliar. My head spins before I place my hands in her hair, tilting her head to look at me and the way her eyes are hazy, filled with lust, is burned into my memory.
“Fuck,” I say, voice rough, “Bella, what are you doing to me?”
Her smile is wicked. “Right now? I’m asking you to fuck me.”
She shifts up the mattress, placing her head on the pillow. The sight of her—hair messy, lips swollen, tits and pussy on display—pulls everything in me tight. I push her knees wider and move closer.
She arches her back as I lower my mouth to her breast, tongue circling her nipple before I pull it between my lips. I take my time tasting her skin, switching sides, letting her feel the stroke of my tongue and the light scrape of my teeth. Her back arches, offering more, chasing every touch.
When I drag my mouth back up to hers, she’s trembling. Her hand slides down my chest, over my abdomen, to the bulge straining against my zipper. Her palm presses gently against my cock, then harder.
“You’ve been hard for me since the elevator,” she whispers.
I breathe out a low curse. “I was hard long before that, Neomi.”
I stand from the bed to strip off my pants and boxer briefs, retrieving the condom in my wallet.
She pushes up to her elbows, watching me as she bites her lip, eyes on my cock. “Fuck, Lars. You’re going to break me with that thing.”
I grin and begin to stroke my length. Her eyes watch the movement. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it fit.”
I return to her, sitting back on my heels between her calves, ripping the foil with my teeth, spitting it across the bed.
I roll the condom down and lean over her.
Her breath is still uneven, chest lifting in quick, shallow pulls beneath me, but the second I press my hips against hers, her body reacts—instinctive and greedy.
The slick heat of her slides along my length, and every part of me tightens with sharp, vicious want.
I brace one hand beside her head, the other sliding down her thigh, lifting it until her knee hooks over my hip. The angle pulls her open, soft and ready, and the sound she makes—quiet and raw—obliterates the last thread of restraint I pretended to have.
“Neomi,” I warn, breath rough.
Her smile sharpens. “I want to see you break, Lars.”
It hits me low and violently. I grab both her wrists and pin them above her head, lowering my mouth to hers.
“Careful what you ask for,” I warn her. “I don’t break. I take what I want.”
I reach down, cock in my hand as I drag the tip against her pussy, coating myself in her arousal. Her back arches, pressing her breasts against my chest.
“Lars—” she gasps when I line up at her entrance. “Please.”
I keep teasing her, circling her clit with the tip of my cock.
“Please, what, Neomi?”
Her hips roll underneath me.
“You know exactly what I want,” she bites out.
I pause and lean down to whisper against her jaw, “Tell me again, tell me how badly you want my cock.”
Her eyes open, lit with frustration. She reaches down and grabs my dick, lining me up.
“I want to come on your cock, Lars. And I think you want me as badly as I want you. Now, fuck me.”
I can’t fight my satisfied smile as I push in, slowly stretching her, and her moan claws straight through my chest. Her nails catch on my forearms in a desperate grip.
“Fuckkkk.” I grit, sinking deeper with each stroke until I’m buried to the base. “You feel—Jesus, you feel absolutely perfect.”
Her legs lock around my waist, dragging me in deeper. “Move,” she demands.
I pull out almost entirely, then thrust again, deep and hard. Her cry echoes off the walls. I release her hands to steady myself with a hand on the mattress, the other sliding instinctively into her hair, fisting at the base of her skull.
The moment I tighten my grip, her head tips back, eyes glowing dark with pleasure.
“Oh God—yes. Pull my fucking hair, Lars,” she commands.
I tug harder, pulling her head back to expose the skin of her neck to my mouth, and thrust again—same angle, same brutal pace. She shudders under me as I fuck into her. Her nails rake along my shoulders, tracing the muscles before gripping tight, urging me deeper.
“Is this what you wanted?” I growl against her jaw, my voice wrecked. “To be fucked hard? To come apart on my cock?”
“Yes. Fuck me, Lars. As hard as you can, don’t hold back.”
I keep my hand in her hair, pulling her head back just a little more, and drive into her with a force that has her chanting my name, her entire body straining to take everything I give her.
My other hand slides under her ass, lifting her into each thrust so she meets me, her pussy like a goddamn vise.
Her breath breaks into frantic sounds, the kind that shove me straight toward the edge. Her lips find my neck and fuck me, it drives me out of my goddamn mind. She sucks and bites until my head feels hazy and my hips are moving at a punishing pace.
“Lars—” she pants. “Don't stop—”
I thrust into her, the room blurring at the edges as she tightens around me in pulses. My hand moves from her hair to her neck. As I squeeze the sides of her throat, her mouth opens and her eyes roll back.
“Yes, fuck.” She strains.
I alternate between squeezing and releasing, each time her back arches a little higher, her breaths come a little deeper until her legs are trembling, nails digging into my forearm, as she comes.
I thrust through every wave of it, my hips stuttering as her orgasm drags mine out of me with violent inevitability.
I bury myself deep, releasing her neck and bracing one hand above her head as the pleasure rips through me—white-hot and all-consuming.
“Neomi—fuck, I’m coming,” the words tear out of me as I spill into the condom in deep, shaking pulses, thrusting until the last aftershock drains out of my spine.
When I finally collapse onto my elbows, my forehead rested against her shoulder, her hands softly slide into my hair, her breath brushing my ear.
Her pulse is still fluttering under my cheek before I pull back, her body loose and warm beneath me, her thighs trembling around my hips. The room smells like sex and her perfume, and it could be so damn addictive.
I ease out of her, tie off the condom, toss it into the trashcan by the nightstand, and she’s watching me with that post-orgasm glow that looks a hell of a lot like triumph.
I smile. “You look satisfied.”
She nods, eyes closed. “Mmmmm, I can’t feel my toes.”
I kiss her cheek. “Be right back.”
She’s still catching her breath when I press one last, unhurried kiss to the inside of her thigh and pull away.
Every instinct tells me to stay right where I am.
To sink back into her warmth, to keep going until she’s wrung out and boneless again.
It takes more effort than it should to stand and force my body toward the bathroom.
Cold water hits my hands, then my mouth. I brace myself against the counter, head bowed, pulse thudding in my throat like a warning.
Neomi is definitely a problem.
I’ve had sex that was exceptional. The kind you remember but can easily move on from. Bodies are easy to learn; pleasure is repetition and instinct. I’ve never confused that with anything more.
But with her, it was an urgency that was threaded with the need to take, to give, to slow down and stay. The urge to ruin her and protect her in the same breath. The moment I was inside her, I knew that this wasn’t going to stay contained.
I raise my head to see my reflection. My eyes are still wild and my lips are red. One night, I tell myself. That’s all this is.
I return to the bedroom to see the city lights cutting through the dark, washing her in a faint glow. She’s on her side, one arm curved under her head, breathing slow and deep.
“Move over, Bella.”
“This is my side, don’t make me move,” she pleads.
“This side is closest to the door; you need to move over.”
She laughs. “So alpha of you to want to protect me in the night.”
“Shut up and move, Bella.”
She scoots across the mattress, giving me space. The mattress dips as I lie down, and she shifts back into me like her body already knows where it belongs.
“I don’t usually do sleepovers,” she whispers, voice soft, words threading into the dark like a secret she doesn’t want me to hear.
I breathe out through my nose, a quiet laugh against the back of her shoulder. “That makes two of us.”