clit again, erection taunting my swollen
lips. I imagined him rolling me onto my stomach, taking me from above and behind at
once.
I’d never wanted someone this way before, never wanted to be dominated. I’d always
seen strong or pushy men as dangerous creatures to be kept at a distance. But with
Kelly I wanted to see the beast set free to take what it wanted, exactly how it wanted
it.
Behind me, he changed. His thrusts were for him now, designed for his pleasure and
not mine. He was that thing I coveted most during sex, a man losing control. One second’s
massive lapse and he could have me—slide his thick cock between my slick lips and
prove himself a liar, and me a fool.
Do it,
I thought.
He moaned, a long, desperate, needy sound. His fingers abandoned my sex, a gruff hand
angling my hips so his dick rubbed my clit with every thrust.
“Fuck.”
“That’s right,” he muttered. “That’s right. Lemme feel you come.”
The position triggered a stitch in my side and his fingertips dug hard into my hip,
promising yet more bruises. But I felt my body obeying, the next orgasm drawing me
tighter, hotter, closer and closer against his punishing cock. His chest pushed hard
into my back, tilting me so I had to brace myself on my elbow. He was half on top
of me now, but fuck, he was hot.
I wrenched my neck to steal a glimpse of that mean, scarred-up face, and I was done.
Those irises like ice, red-black blood and white stitches, lamplight making a golden
halo of his hair. I turned back and shut my eyes tight, came against his cock, trembling,
shuddering, moaning.
“Good, good, good,” I heard him muttering as I came down, a panting mantra set to
the rhythm of his hips. “Fuck, here.” He grabbed my hand and forced it between my
legs. I felt the smooth, wet crown of his cock for one thrust, two, then he jammed
his body against mine, hot come filling my cupped palm. His breaths heated my neck
in tight bursts, and I heard every tiny sound of his lips and tongue as he swallowed.
He pulled away. I scanned the floor, then wiped my hand on my tee shirt, sobering
instantly. When I sat up I found Kelly stretched on his back, cock hidden by his underwear
once more. I hadn’t even gotten a look at it.
“Well,” I said.
“Well.”
I cleared my throat and smoothed my wild hair, and hoped I sounded casual. “Guess
you do get what you want, after all. I stand corrected.”
He didn’t reply, just shut his eyes and smiled some mysterious little Kelly smile.
I studied his body in the warm, low light, watched this confounding, gorgeous, frightening
animal resting on my covers.
“You seem like you should have a tattoo,” I told him. “A massive one.”
His eyes opened. “What? And let some asshole draw on my skin, and have to live with
it the rest of my life if he fucks it up?”
“Just saying. It’d go with the motif.” I leaned close, skimmed my palm over his bristly
hair, traced his ear, drew my thumbnail down the scar that ran the length of his throat.
It felt thrilling and dangerous, like stroking a lounging panther. “Where did you
get this? On the ward?”
“No, when I worked in the pen.”
“Oh good. I mean, not good, but . . . You know.”
Kelly yawned and shut his eyes.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on my bed. It’s barely big enough for one reasonable-sized
person.”
And he was on his feet a moment later, gathering his clothes, nearly making me regret
the quip.
I tucked my legs beneath the covers, watching. What on earth had I just done? With
a coworker, aided by exactly
no
alcohol?
But a girl doesn’t need a drink with a body like that fogging her senses,
I thought, fascinated by the flex of his shoulders as he hiked up his pants.
“Find whatever you needed when you decided to turn up and bother me again?” I asked.
“My needs are simple. Same as any man.”
Liar. You came here because of whatever happened with
lips. I imagined him rolling me onto my stomach, taking me from above and behind at
once.
I’d never wanted someone this way before, never wanted to be dominated. I’d always
seen strong or pushy men as dangerous creatures to be kept at a distance. But with
Kelly I wanted to see the beast set free to take what it wanted, exactly how it wanted
it.
Behind me, he changed. His thrusts were for him now, designed for his pleasure and
not mine. He was that thing I coveted most during sex, a man losing control. One second’s
massive lapse and he could have me—slide his thick cock between my slick lips and
prove himself a liar, and me a fool.
Do it,
I thought.
He moaned, a long, desperate, needy sound. His fingers abandoned my sex, a gruff hand
angling my hips so his dick rubbed my clit with every thrust.
“Fuck.”
“That’s right,” he muttered. “That’s right. Lemme feel you come.”
The position triggered a stitch in my side and his fingertips dug hard into my hip,
promising yet more bruises. But I felt my body obeying, the next orgasm drawing me
tighter, hotter, closer and closer against his punishing cock. His chest pushed hard
into my back, tilting me so I had to brace myself on my elbow. He was half on top
of me now, but fuck, he was hot.
I wrenched my neck to steal a glimpse of that mean, scarred-up face, and I was done.
Those irises like ice, red-black blood and white stitches, lamplight making a golden
halo of his hair. I turned back and shut my eyes tight, came against his cock, trembling,
shuddering, moaning.
“Good, good, good,” I heard him muttering as I came down, a panting mantra set to
the rhythm of his hips. “Fuck, here.” He grabbed my hand and forced it between my
legs. I felt the smooth, wet crown of his cock for one thrust, two, then he jammed
his body against mine, hot come filling my cupped palm. His breaths heated my neck
in tight bursts, and I heard every tiny sound of his lips and tongue as he swallowed.
He pulled away. I scanned the floor, then wiped my hand on my tee shirt, sobering
instantly. When I sat up I found Kelly stretched on his back, cock hidden by his underwear
once more. I hadn’t even gotten a look at it.
“Well,” I said.
“Well.”
I cleared my throat and smoothed my wild hair, and hoped I sounded casual. “Guess
you do get what you want, after all. I stand corrected.”
He didn’t reply, just shut his eyes and smiled some mysterious little Kelly smile.
I studied his body in the warm, low light, watched this confounding, gorgeous, frightening
animal resting on my covers.
“You seem like you should have a tattoo,” I told him. “A massive one.”
His eyes opened. “What? And let some asshole draw on my skin, and have to live with
it the rest of my life if he fucks it up?”
“Just saying. It’d go with the motif.” I leaned close, skimmed my palm over his bristly
hair, traced his ear, drew my thumbnail down the scar that ran the length of his throat.
It felt thrilling and dangerous, like stroking a lounging panther. “Where did you
get this? On the ward?”
“No, when I worked in the pen.”
“Oh good. I mean, not good, but . . . You know.”
Kelly yawned and shut his eyes.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep on my bed. It’s barely big enough for one reasonable-sized
person.”
And he was on his feet a moment later, gathering his clothes, nearly making me regret
the quip.
I tucked my legs beneath the covers, watching. What on earth had I just done? With
a coworker, aided by exactly
no
alcohol?
But a girl doesn’t need a drink with a body like that fogging her senses,
I thought, fascinated by the flex of his shoulders as he hiked up his pants.
“Find whatever you needed when you decided to turn up and bother me again?” I asked.
“My needs are simple. Same as any man.”
Liar. You came here because of whatever happened with
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