Chapter Seventeen #2
He moved across my chest to tease me some more, making me arch backward into his mouth as my hips kept rolling, rocking, grinding against him.
York’s hands traced the slope of my back, sank into my ass, pulling me against him harder and faster.
Then with a growl, just as frustrated as I was, he grabbed the waistbands of my shorts and panties, pulling until I had no choice but to shift upward to free the material.
Finished, his hand slid between my legs, dragging a ragged moan from my lips as his thumb found my clit and two of his fingers thrust inside me.
I rocked shamelessly against his palm as his lips found mine again, muffling my whimpers and moans as he drove me up with his fingers.
But the ache only seemed to grow, my body craving more. Craving him.
I broke the kiss on a moan, my forehead pressing to his.
“York, please,” I whimpered.
“Please, what?” he asked, teeth nipping my earlobe. “Please let you ride my cock?”
“Yes.”
That rumble moved through him again as his other hand went to the nightstand, fumbling around before coming back with the condom that he nipped the corner of.
My hands moved between us, working his button and zipper free, then reaching inside to pull out his cock.
He made short work of protecting us before grabbing my hips, pulling me over him, then pressing my hips down.
A long, low moan escaped me as I sank down, feeling the stretch of him settling deep.
A ragged curse escaped him as my walls tightened around him.
“Ride me,” he demanded.
And so I did, my movements slow and careful at first, then faster, harder, more uncontrolled.
“Fuck, you feel good,” he groaned, his hands on my ass, controlling my movements as I got closer and closer. “There you go. Squeeze my cock.”
I came hard, crying out hard enough to make my throat hurt.
I collapsed into him afterward, but should have known once wouldn’t have been enough for it. It never seemed to be. It wasn’t long before he was moving flat and rocking his hips up into me, making my breath catch.
“How many times do you think I can make you come before you tap out?” he asked, pinning my hips in place as he thrust faster.
“We already know I can get six,” he murmured as he drove me quickly toward that edge.
“Seven? Eight? There,” he groaned as the orgasm jolted through me unexpectedly, stealing my breath, making my legs shake. “Two,” he counted.
He got a third out of me before my legs were shaking too hard to hold me on top.
But that wasn’t enough reason for him to give up on his mission.
He flipped me under him and moved to kneel, grabbing my legs and yanking them up to his shoulders before he surged deep inside me again.
He fucked me hard then, each thrust making the headboard knock against the wall. And with my hips tilted just right, it wasn’t long before I was crying out as another orgasm shot through me.
York pushed my legs into my chest, the new angle making my breath catch as I looked up at him as he fucked me. Each muscle tensed with every thrust, his eyes molten.
Reaching down, he grabbed each of my wrists, holding me in place as he kept fucking me harder and harder.
When my next orgasm escaped me as more of a cry than a moan and my body started to tremble, he released me, his body coming over mine, pressing me into the mattress as his lips claimed mine.
Reaching down, he grabbed one leg, then the other, guiding them around his lower back as his tongue gently explored mine.
When he moved again, it was the slowest of thrusts.
The gentleness then felt like it cracked something open inside me, and he just poured in.
I cried out against his lips as, little by little, even his slow movements started to drive me up.
The sounds escaping me were soul-deep and full of a longing that was more than physical.
York broke the kiss, pushing up enough to look down at me as he moved.
There was a catch in my chest.
And then the orgasm moved through me in a deep, breathless surge, every muscle locking before releasing completely.
Seeming to sense I wasn’t going to be able to keep going, he pressed deep, groaning out a curse as he came.
He slid off to the side afterward, his body still touching mine, anchoring me, as my body tried to recover.
His hand slid gently down my side, over my belly, then up again.
“You okay?” All I could manage to that was a strange garbled sound. It got a soft chuckle out of York as his fingers kept whispering over my skin.
“Denny was coloring you again?” I asked, touching his forearm where his forest tattoo was colored in bright primary colors.
“She’s angry my tattoos aren’t colorful like some of the other guys.”
“She does love her colors. Is this New York?” I asked, finger tracing over one of the pine trees.
“Yeah.”
“Where you hid a body?”
A chuckle escaped him. “I wouldn’t put the location of evidence on my skin, no. My old man had a cabin in the woods here. Not far from the stream. I regret not being able to buy it myself. But I’d moved down here to take care of my grandfather who was dying and it just… slipped through the cracks.”
“I didn’t know that about your grandfather.”
“How could you?” he asked, shrugging.
“You were a good grandson to come down here and take care of him.”
“Not really. It’s what you do.”
I winced. “I don’t know if I could do that for my grandfather.”
“Not an easy man?”
“The hardest of men. My parents were pretty absent in my life. I mean, they were around. But they just didn’t really do the whole parenting thing. And we all lived on my grandfather’s ranch, so he kind of took it upon himself to ‘raise me up right’.”
“But you were a headstrong kid.”
“I was. And no amount of beating me with a belt could make me want to bend to his will.”
York’s fingers tightened on my hip, likely viewing the way I now viewed my childhood: seeing it through Denny’s eyes. I couldn’t imagine ever raising a hand to her, let alone a belt.
“Makes sense why you took off as soon as you were old enough.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“You’ve never been back?”
“No. I’ve been no-contact with everyone since then.
My grandfather who beat the shit out of me…
and the parents who saw it and didn’t stop it.
” I paused, sucking in a deep breath. “Back at the apartment… I knew what was coming by the whooshing sound of his belt being whipped off. I’d heard that so many times before. ”
“That’s fucked up, babe,” he said, exhaling hard.
“Yeah. I, uh, we haven’t discussed this yet,” I said, looking over at him. “But if you ever raise a hand to my daughter, I will cover you in sugar and set you on fire.”
“Sugar, huh?”
“Sugar melts, caramelizes, and turns into a sticky fuel that spreads…”
“Do I want to know how you know that?”
“Saw a news story once where a mom found out her boyfriend was abusing her daughter. It’s how she took out her vengeance.”
“Justified.”
“Yep.”
“I would never hit Denali, so the sugar can stay in the kitchen.”
“I didn’t imagine you would, but I wanted to be clear.”
“How do you discipline her?”
“I mean, as a whole, I haven’t needed to much.
She’s such a good kid. And she’s mostly past the tantrum stage.
I find you can avoid most issues if you’re clear with her from the jump.
So, if you tell her before you go in the store how you expect her to behave a certain way, and that we are only there for such-and-such, she almost always behaves. ”
“And if she doesn’t?”