Make Me Feel by Beth Kery Page B

Harper?”
    He continued to fuck her as he snarled the question. She heard him say it through the cries of excitement that were popping out of her throat every time he crashed into her.
    “Yes. God,
yes
,” burst out of her when he drove deep.
    “Because you have to take it. You’re mine.”
    Oh God.
Her eyes clamped tight behind the blindfold. It was unbearable, but she wouldn’t have traded the experience for anything. Her entire world became the friction of his driving cock. It was like he was igniting a fire in her. She felt his feral focus on her, sensed it as if it were as real as an encompassing embrace. His grunts of pleasure and satisfaction only added fuel to her volatility.
    He was so swollen and hard in her. She thought his arousal might verge on pain. She knew perfectly that he would explode first. And that, too, was fuel on the flame.
    He drove deep. She felt his cock lurch viciously inside her. She gritted her teeth together, stifling an anguished cry. She wasn’t ready for him to leave her. Not yet. But he was about to come, and she craved that, as well.
    A moment later, he jerked his cock out of her. She felt his elbow against her bare knee, and the subtle sensation of movement at the joint. He’d removed the condom and was jacking his cock. He grunted savagely, and her body tensed tight as a wire.
    Her belly leapt at the first splash of his warm semen on her skin. She lay there, panting and undone, listening to the ominous, low growls that rattled his throat as he continued to ejaculate on her stomach, ribs, and lower breasts. It was the climax to a claiming, more than anything, and she suspected Jacob knew that. Her thought was confirmed when she felt him fall forward after a tense moment, both of his hands planted on the mattress next to her head.
    “Mine,” he repeated between ragged breaths.
    Harper didn’t reply. In that moment, it seemed ridiculous to comment further on the obvious.
    * * *
    Even though she couldn’t see him, his harsh breathing joined them, somehow. So did the feeling of his testicles pressed tightly against her outer sex and the feeling of the warm liquid coating her belly and ribs. Slowly, his breathing evened and his semen began to cool. He pushed himself off the mattress. She waited breathlessly. Then came the sensation of the soft towel pressing against her skin, drying her of his ejaculate.
    A moment later, she heard the bedside table drawer open. The blindfold slipped off her head. She blinked dazedly. The mattress gave as he sat next to her. She stared up at him, hungry for the image. Starving for it. He looked down at her, his expression solemn. He held her stare, but she was aware of his hand moving over the rope restraint, tactilely checking that the rope held secure and that his planned releases were intact.
    “You’re comfortable?” he murmured.
    The dull ache between her thighs, the feeling of the cool air tickling her aroused, wet sex nudged at her awareness. “Yes,” she whispered, panting shallowly. He’d built a boatload of sexual tension in her. Her nipples were tight and hard, and the soles of her feet simmered.
    A smile flickered across his firm mouth. “All except for this?”
    Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his fingers brushing softly against the pubic hair over her mound. Too softly. Her sex clenched tight. She moaned miserably. God, she was right on the edge.
    “Don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “I’m not trying to torture you. Just tell me what you want, Harper.”
    “To come,” she said shakily. “Please make me come.”
    His hand covered her entire mound. She cried out at the forceful pressure. He circled his arm subtly. She gasped, her head coming off the pillow as the first harsh shudder of orgasm shook her. After a mindless moment of flooding sensation, she became aware that he watched her fixedly as he worked every last bit of tension and pleasure out of her body.
    She exhaled, her head falling back on the pillow.