Chapter 16 Isabella #2
"There's nothing violent about wanting me." I take his hands and place them on my breasts, holding them there. "This is desire. This is need. This is normal."
He groans and his control finally slips. His hands tighten on me, his mouth finding mine in a kiss that's no longer careful. It's hungry. Demanding. His tongue slides against mine and I moan into his mouth, pressing closer.
"Bed," I gasp against his lips. "Now."
He lifts me, easily, like I weigh nothing, and carries me to the bed. Lays me down carefully despite the urgency in his movements. Then he's on top of me, his weight perfect, his mouth on my neck again.
"Tell me if I do something wrong," he says between kisses. "If I go too far."
"You won't."
But I can feel it in him. The tight restraint. The way he's holding himself back even as his hands slide down my body, even as his mouth trails lower, kissing down my collarbone, between my breasts, down my stomach.
His fingers find the button of my jeans and he pauses, looking up at me for permission.
"Yes," I breathe.
His fingers work at the button of my jeans, each brush of his knuckles against my stomach sending a jolt of heat straight between my thighs.
The rasp of the zipper is loud in the quiet room.
Then his hands are hooking into the waistband, dragging both my jeans and underwear down in one rough tug.
Cool air hits my bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the fire in his eyes as he looks at me.
I’m completely exposed now, naked and trembling under his gaze. He sits back, his dark eyes tracing every inch of me—my breasts, the curve of my waist, the dampness already glistening between my thighs.
“You’re staring,” I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath.
“I can’t look away,” he admits, his voice rough. “You’re perfect. Every fucking part of you.”
Then his hands are on my thighs, sliding up slowly, and I shiver. His touch is firm now, no longer tentative, but still so careful. Like I'm something precious.
His calloused fingers slowly spread me open. I gasp as the air hits my swollen, aching pussy, already wet and throbbing for him. His thumb brushes lightly over me, spreading my slickness, and I whimper at the contact.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “So fucking wet for me.”
I arch into his touch, my hips jerking as he circles my clit, slow and deliberate, learning exactly what makes me gasp, what makes my breath catch.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands, his fingers teasing my entrance.
“More,” I beg, my fingers tangling in the sheets. “Please, I need more.”
His fingers slide inside me without warning, two thick digits stretching me, filling me. I cry out, my back arching off the bed as he curls his fingers, pressing against that spot inside me.
His thumb finds my clit again, rubbing in tight, relentless circles as he fingers me, his rhythm unyielding. The pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, my breath coming in short, desperate gasps.
"God, Isabella." His voice is wrecked. "You feel..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. Just works his fingers slowly, carefully, watching my reactions. When he finds a spot that makes me gasp, he focuses there, building the pressure until I'm trembling.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice dark and encouraging. “Let me hear you. Let me feel you come on my fingers.”
I’m so close, my body trembling on the edge, but I don’t want to go over alone. I reach for his pants, my fingers fumbling with the button.
“Off,” I demand. “I need these off.”
He helps me, shoving his pants and boxers down in one rough motion. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
He's beautiful. Muscular and scarred and so hard it must be painful.
I reach for him, wrapping my fingers around his shaft, and he hisses at the contact, his hips jerking involuntarily.
“Careful,” he warns, his voice strained. “I’m so fucking close already. If you keep touching me like that, I won’t last.”
“I don’t care,” I whisper, stroking him slowly, feeling the weight of him, the way he pulses in my hand. “I just want you. I want to feel you inside me.”
He groans, his hand covering mine, stilling my movements. “Isabella,” he growls, his control fraying. “I need to be inside you. Now. But I need—do you have protection?”
I shake my head, my cheeks flushed. “No. I didn’t plan…”
“It’s okay,” he says, kissing me softly, though his body is tense with need. “We can stop. We should stop.”
“I don’t want to stop,” I insist, pulling him closer, my hand sliding down to cup his balls, feeling how tight they are, how ready. “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. Haven't been with anyone since... since Draco. And I trust you."
He groans, his forehead pressing to mine. “You shouldn’t,” he admits, but he’s already positioning himself, the thick head of his cock pressing against my entrance. “Tell me if it’s too much. If I’m too rough.”
“Lupo,” I whisper, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Stop thinking.”
He pushes inside me with one slow, deliberate thrust, and we both gasp at the sensation. I’m so tight, so hot, my body stretching to accommodate him, the burn of it almost too much. He goes slowly, giving me time to adjust, his jaw clenched with the effort of holding back.
“Okay?” he asks, his voice strained, his whole body shaking.
“Yes,” I breathe, my nails digging into his shoulders. “God, yes. Don’t stop. Are we hurting your injuries?”
“That’s the last thing on my mind right now,” he mutters against my lips.
He slides deeper, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated inside me, his hips flush against mine. He stays there for a moment, buried to the hilt, his forehead pressed to mine.
“You feel like heaven,” he whispers, his voice raw. “Like you were made for me.”
Then he moves. Slow at first, careful, each thrust dragging his cock against that spot inside me that makes me see stars. But I can feel him fighting it, fighting the need to let go, to take what he wants.
“Stop holding back,” I urge, my voice breathless. “I’m not fragile.”
Something snaps in him. His control shatters, and his thrusts become harder, faster, deeper. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he pounds into me, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room.
I can feel him everywhere, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me, his breath hot against my neck.
“Yes,” I gasp, my body tightening around him. “Just like that.”
He buries his face in my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as he drives into me, his cock swelling inside me. “Come for me,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”
The orgasm crashes over me, my body clenching around him, my nails raking down his back as I cry out. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, his cock pulsing deep inside me as he follows me over the edge, his release spilling into me in hot, thick waves.
"God, Isabella."
We lie there for a long moment, both breathing hard, hearts pounding against each other. His weight is perfect. Grounding.
Finally, he lifts his head, looking at me with eyes that are worried.
"Did I hurt you?" His voice is small. "Was I too rough?"
"No." I cup his face, making him look at me. "You were perfect. That was perfect."
"I lost control. I promised myself I wouldn't but I..."
I kiss him softly. "I wanted you to lose control. Wanted you to stop being so careful."
"But what if..."
"Stop." I silence him with another kiss. "You didn't hurt me. You could never hurt me. What we just did, that was beautiful. That was us. Together."
He searches my face, looking for any sign that I'm lying. When he finds none, something in him relaxes.
"Stay," I whisper. "Don't go back to the barn tonight."
"I'm not going anywhere." He carefully withdraws from me, making me wince slightly at the loss. Then he rolls to his side, pulling me against him. "I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
His hand trails down my spine, idle and soothing. "Are you sore? I was too rough."
"You were perfect," I repeat firmly. "Stop second-guessing everything."
"I can't help it. I don't know who I am. Don't know if I'm capable of..."
"You're capable of making me feel safe. And wanted. And cherished." I press a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "That's who you are. That's what you're capable of."
He's quiet for a long moment, just holding me. "What if my memories come back and I'm someone terrible? Someone you wouldn't want?"
I know that whoever he was before doesn't matter.
He's mine now.