Chapter 27 Lara #3
My eyes dropped to the space between my legs, and the blunt head of his cock pushed into my slit. My body instantly tensed, wanting but resistant to the invasion again.
He was so big, so thick, my core squeezed and tightened to slow him down, but he didn’t let up, and I didn’t want him to. Inch after inch of his massive organ pushed inside me, permanently altering my anatomy with the size of his own.
“That’s it, Lara.” His rough praise soothed me through the greedy pain. “Fuck, you feel so good, stretching for me again. Fuck . . .”
“Calder, please,” I begged, even though it felt like he was splitting me in two. I wanted to be split. To be severed. To be ripped from the cold, lonely cage I’d lived in for . . . forever. And I wanted this wild man to be the one to do it.
“God, yes,” he groaned when he finally reached the hilt, and I struggled to breathe, feeling so full of him that it was like there was no room for oxygen. “Tell me, Doctor, is this how the anatomy is supposed to fit?”
I shuddered and breathed, “I’m not sure fit is the word for this.” Stuffed was more like it.
His low laugh rippled all the way inside me, and then he was moving.
Drawing back and sinking deep. It would be a mistake to think his movements were tender or gentle.
They were as gentle as a scalpel through skin.
As tender as a needle into my vein. They were precise.
Calculated for pleasure. Able to harm me or heal me at the discretion of the man wielding them.
His palm flattened hard on my stomach, pinning me to the bed and to the drive of his cock. In and out. Again and again. I felt every inch, every ridge, every pulse of his thick erection as it rhythmically dismantled what remained of my insides. Piece by piece. Thrust by thrust.
The feral noises he made as he fucked me sounded like they were cut raw from his chest and implanted into my own.
“And what is the word for when I can see my cock move in your stomach?” He drove deep, my G-spot fizzling with the friction.
“Not possible,” I choked out in a rush.
“You’ve said that about me before, Dr. Crane,” he growled and thrust again, my hips bowing off the bed to meet his. “And again, you’re wrong.”
All the soreness disappeared in the face of wanting him.
My legs hooked around his waist and my hips rose to meet the drive of his.
And then I broke his rules again, lifting my eyes up over the sheen of sweat on his chest to look at his face.
There was a wildness there, woven into the strain in his jaw and the hunger in his eyes.
A wildness that he didn’t suppress, but harnessed in the way he fucked me.
And then his gaze met mine and there was something in it—something I recognized. Not from tonight. Not from today or yesterday. Not from the time we’d spent together over the last two weeks, but from twelve years ago. And suddenly, the bond to that memory was as solid as steel.
Calder had looked at me back then. Like this. He’d wanted me back then. It was wrong. But now, nothing had ever felt more right.
“Lara.” My name sounded different this time. Worn and ragged and undone.
“You wanted me back then,” I said between scattered breaths.
It was the hard pulse of his jaw that confessed his answer and tipped me off to the truth—one the gentleman in him wanted to deny but the man in him couldn’t.
A wicked, wild look swept through his eyes, and he reached for my clit, rolling and pinching the thrumming bud until I bucked, crying out desperately for release. And then his thrusts picked up. Faster. Harder. His hips slammed into mine, the force blinding with pleasure and shaking my entire body.
But the entire time, his eyes never left mine. This was his reply. His admission. That he’d always been looking at me.
And I spiraled from that look. Higher and higher.
Pleasure spooled my body tighter to the brink of insanity or destruction, whichever came first. Calder fucked me until I couldn’t see straight.
Until my insides were rearranged and my heart learned a new beat.
Until I wasn’t begging or cursing, but praying to his name like the god I’d always envisioned him to be.
“I want you to come for me now.” His deep, drawn direction was my undoing. I came apart with a scream and convulsed around him. Under him. For him.
And he watched. He fucked and watched as I unraveled to his command, and then he finally drove fast and buried deep, a rough groan dislodging from his lips as he came.
Without the rain and the storm and the onslaught to my senses, I could feel everything.
The swell of his cock before he climaxed.
The hard pump of his length. The hot rush of his cum.
And then I felt more. I felt the warmth of his breath on my cheek. The soft brush of his lips on mine. The tender way he turned my limbs so I lay on top of him. And finally, the thump of his heart under my cheek and the strong press of his fingers as they slid through mine.
For the first time in far too long, my eyes drifted shut, and there were no nightmares waiting to chase away my sleep.