Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
McKenna tended to be the queen of overthinking things, but this moment didn’t require thought. For once, she was throwing logic out the window and giving herself over to feelings.
Her mind was definitely going to kick in later and start listing all the reasons why this was wrong, but for now, she didn’t care.
Didn’t care about being smart or practical or any of those boring things.
For once, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and just…be.
With Tank.
With this sexy, surprisingly dear, and maybe even a little bit broken man.
McKenna closed her eyes as a sound she’d never made in her life—something between a whimper and a moan—came out when Tank sank his teeth into the crook between her neck and shoulder.
She’d had three lovers in the past, and all of them had been gentle, easygoing in bed. She’d thought their touches sweet and romantic, but Jesus, had she been selling herself short. Tank stroked the spot he’d just bitten with his tongue before kissing it all better.
He slipped his hands under her pajama top, roughly yanking her bra down so that he could cup her bare breasts. He pinched and rolled her nipples until she groaned.
“God,” she exclaimed, her eyes flying open just in time to catch Tank’s too-pleased smirk. The guy was playing her like a violin, and he knew it.
“I like those sounds of yours,” he murmured, pinching her nipples again. She whimpered, her pussy clenching in response. Apparently, Tank was well-versed in pressure points, aware that pushing and prodding one part of the body would produce a reaction in another.
Before that moment, McKenna wouldn’t have even considered her nipples an erogenous zone. The light kisses and sucks of past lovers had actually bored her.
“Are you going to scream for me, McKenna?”
Two responses popped into her head at his question at the exact same time. One, while she’d never screamed in bed in her life, she was damn sure she was going to for him.
And secondly, he’d called her by her name for the first time.
After a lifetime of being Mickey, Mac, Kenny, and Mouse, she couldn’t recall the last time someone she was close to using her full name. She liked hearing it from him…a lot.
She’d done more than her fair share of fantasizing about what it would be like to sleep with Tank. The worn-out batteries in her vibrator could attest to that, but she’d paired him with her past sexual experiences and completely missed the boat on what to expect.
Fantasy Tank said silly things while being playful. She’d imagined tickles, soft strokes, even laughter. Probably because that was how they were when they were together. Things were always easy, fun, friendly.
So much for that assumption.
Because the real Tank?
He was a conqueror, the type to take what he wanted without asking or apologizing.
“Answer me, McKenna.”
She blinked a few times, fighting to focus and remember the question. When she did, she felt her face grow hot, though not from embarrassment. She’d never been this aroused in her life, and they were both still dressed.
“Yes,” she replied, certain if anyone could make her scream during sex, it was Tank.
Pleased by her answer, he lowered his head, kissing her cheek before placing his lips against her ear. “Good girl.”
Jesus. H. Christ.
She was a goner.
While she’d had an amazing time with him tonight at the pub, she truly hadn’t seen the date ending this way. The entire way home, she’d been debating whether or not it would be wise to let him kiss her good night on her front porch.
Boring McKenna had decided it wouldn’t happen.
Thank God that stupid bitch wasn’t here right now.
Rising to his knees, Tank reached for her hand, prompting her to sit up as well. “I have no idea where your bedroom is,” he said, as he tugged her pajama top over her head. “But I know it’s too far away.”
McKenna didn’t have time to consider his actions before he was tossing not only her shirt but her bra to the floor.
Her hands instinctively rose to cover her breasts. She hadn’t even had time to prepare herself mentally for being naked in front of him. While he was a Greek god, all chiseled muscles and no fat, she was leaner, bonier.
Tank grasped her wrists, pulling them away and lifting them so he could kiss her palms. “I don’t ever want you to hide from me,” he said, lowering her hands to her lap. “I love everything I see.”
McKenna knew he was talking about her tits, but the lonely woman, the one whose confidence was still wobbly from the last breakup, wanted to believe he was referring to more than just her body.
Then Tank kissed her again, and every bad, insecure feeling vanished in an instant.
She gave in to instinct, drawing his jersey over his head so she could lean toward him, taste and stroke and even bite. Tank growled when she sank her teeth into his pec, the sound low and guttural and so fucking hot.
“You’re going to be my wildcat,” he murmured, pushing her to her back once more.
She didn’t have time to wrap her head around how much she liked that nickname most of all, before Tank took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked…hard.
Her back arched as she cried out his name. Her hands found their way to his hair, and she gripped it. It felt as if she was at the very top of the roller coaster about to plummet back to the ground. She was terrified and thrilled at the same time, and she didn’t want this ride to end.
Tank played with her breasts for way longer than any of her past lovers, driving her arousal up inch by inch.
She wasn’t sure why she’d expected him to just get right down to business.
Maybe because he seemed to live his life in fast-forward, constantly accelerating from zero to sixty, always pushing things to the limit quickly.
Instead, Tank acted like a man with nothing but time on his hands. Time he intended to use to drive her out of her mind.
She was gasping for air when he finally lifted his head, his chocolate-brown eyes dark with something she’d never seen on a man’s face.
Hunger…and a burning desire so powerful it made her dizzy.
“I want you,” she whispered, shocked by the admission and then by how true it was.
Tank cupped her cheek. “I want you too.”
McKenna had to blink a few times to clear her vision, hating the tears that accompanied his confession. Not that she hated the words. Just the fact that they proved how much Eddie’s rejection had knocked her down.
Because despite the way Tank was looking at her as if she hung the moon, she couldn’t stop herself from doubting the sincerity of his admission. After all, he could have any woman he wanted.
While it was hard for her to admit, the only real thing tonight would be the sex.
Mercifully, Tank didn’t give her too much time to wallow in those negative feelings.
He shifted off the couch, rising to stand beside it.
She started to sit, but he held her down with a strong hand on her shoulder. “Don’t move.”
McKenna relaxed back into the cushions, drawing in a shaky breath when he slipped his fingers under the elastic of her silly Mickey pajama bottoms. He tugged them and her panties off in one go, drawing them down before tossing them to the floor.
She resisted the urge to cover herself again, closing her hands into fists by her sides.
Tank rewarded her efforts with a smile, one finger traveling from the base of her throat, through the valley of her breasts, and over her stomach.
It stopped just short of where she really wanted that finger to be.
“Good girl,” he murmured again, acknowledging her efforts.
As he turned toward the coffee table, she watched as he opened his wallet and pulled out a condom.
Her body shivered, goose bumps forming. Because they’d reached the moment of truth.
It spoke to her level of trust in this man that she knew if she said stop, he would.
Not that she had any intention of saying that.
As far as she was concerned, the words “stop” and “no” didn’t exist in her vocabulary tonight. She wanted everything Tank was willing to give.
Because, while she was too far gone right now, tomorrow she wouldn’t be.
Tomorrow, she would tuck this—and any wayward emotions—into the proper box, before locking it away.
This was going to be a one-night stand.
Her first.
Of course, when Tank shoved his boxers down, adding them to the pile of clothing on the floor, she reconsidered…briefly.
Because holy shit.
“Um,” she whispered, taking in his long, thick cock. For a fleeting moment, McKenna chastised herself for being a reckless fool because that model in the hot tub, the one from Turks and Caicos, had warned her—and every other woman in the world—that he was hung like a mule.
Tank sank down on the side of the couch, his bare ass pressing against her hip.
His smirk was back, but it didn’t bug her anymore like it used to. If anything, it lightened the moment and, yes, while she wasn’t proud of it, that smirk dared her, just as he intended it to.
The man had become too adept at reading her thoughts and responding in exactly the way she needed.
“Touch me,” he demanded, twisting his hips so she knew without words where he wanted her hands.
She grasped his cock without hesitance. Just as she knew he’d stop, she also knew he wouldn’t hurt her, and that gave her the freedom to explore without fear.
The way Tank groaned low in his throat encouraged her to tighten her grip, to stroke him from root to tip, up and down. Precome beaded on the head of his dick, and she started to lift, curious, wanting to taste.
Tank’s hand landed on her shoulder again, pressing her down.
“You use that pretty mouth on me and this ends way too fast,” he said, his admission making her ridiculously happy.
She’d never questioned Tank’s ability to make her come hard and fast. It might not have happened yet, but she didn’t doubt for a second he was going to give her the best orgasm of her life.