Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(40)
“Asshole!” I swear at him, and I don’t even flinch at the curse word. I’m too hot and damp and hungry and so, so close. My hips shift restlessly, but there’s nowhere for me to go.
A hand comes down hard on my right ass cheek. “Shut it, sugar.”
The bright sting of pain is almost enough to send me over the edge.
Before I can squirm into a more accessible position, he grasps my panties and rips them through on one side. They flutter to the floor. His hands part my legs further and then his mouth is on me.
Scorching hot, his lips part over my aching center, his tongue tunneling obscenely through my drenched folds. The old me, the me before this mindless sex-crazed version, wants to protest, conscious of the view he must have, of my scent, my taste, but all that comes out is a ragged, keening cry. His tongue flicks over my clit, then thrusts in and out of the most intimate part of me.
His fingers thrust into my hole and, with his other hand, he parts my ass cheeks obscenely. I jerk but he holds me in place.
“Asshole, was it? Your wish, sugar.”
His wet fingers move from my pussy to tease my tight rosebud, right as he angles his head, draws my clit into his mouth, and sucks.
“N— Jayk!” I cry, shocked.
I can’t shift away from him; his other arm is banded like steel around my waist, holding me to him.
His finger slowly pushes past the tight ring and eases in and out, and he flicks his tongue rapidly, firmly over my clit. I feel the strange intrusion in every part of me, unable to escape it. Not sure I want to. My body tries to adjust to the sensations, overworked, overstimulated.
The pressure inside me heightens until my vision blurs and his mouth, his fingers, are all there is, pushing and taking and claiming me. Then, with a blinding wave of wild, overwhelming pleasure, I come apart, sobbing into the mattress, not sure if I’m cursing or thanking him.
I shiver as the aftershocks of pleasure ripple through me, making me tingle. Blinking on my way back to sanity—my vision not the best without my glasses—I realize I’m now on my back and Jaykob is between my thighs. There’s a raw violence in his motions as he covers himself in a condom that probably should make me nervous, but somehow doesn’t. Not with pleasure drugging my veins and excitement again restarting my heart.
He grips my hair and pulls me so I’m sitting up. With a savage snarl, he captures my mouth, making me taste my own orgasm, thrusting his tongue between my lips the same way he thrust his cock there minutes before. My eyes grow heavy lidded.
I can’t remember enjoying a kiss so much in my life. Right now, it’s only Jayk, Jayk, Jayk.
On a muffled sob, I rake my hands over his now-damp shoulders and chest. When he releases my mouth, hand still twisted in my hair, I bend forward and bite his pec hard beside the snarl of a vine, then lick over the mark before he yanks me back. I’m not sure if I want to punish him for pushing me so far past my comfort zone or make him feel as wonderful as I just felt.
Violence and desire rock me in a completely unfamiliar way.
He tsks. “That ain’t very fucking polite, Miss Manners.”
He shoves me back down on the bed, not bothering to be gentle.
Stepping forward, he lines himself up, pushing the flared head of his cock against my entrance. But rather than thrusting forward, his hands grasp behind my knees, and he yanks me toward him, impaling me along his length in one quick motion. I gasp, then shift around him with a whimper, my tight body racing to accustom itself to his size. His eyes slide closed for a moment, jaw clenching as he rocks slightly inside me. I clench against the intrusion, and his eyes fly open again, dark and stormy and intent.
“Don’t do that again until I tell you to. Wrap your legs around me. Now.”
My heels bite into his lower back, pressing him more deeply inside me. I shudder. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m over-full. Taken.
Overwhelmed.
He cups my breasts, squeezes them, making me groan, then grasps my hips hard with both hands, as though he can’t wait.
He meets my heavy-lidded gaze. The sneer is gone, leaving only hot, hungry man.
“Hold on.”
Withdrawing sharply, he thrusts back in, deeper than before, angling so he hits every delicious spot inside me. Again and again, faster and faster, he finds a rhythm that brings me back to a breathtakingly sudden peak. He pounds inside me so hard it hurts, but I sob at him not to stop. I can feel every inch of him, feel every slide of flesh, feel him filling me with dark, delicious need.
My hands, bunched in the sheets, move to grasp for skin. My long nails dig into his shoulders, and he leans over me, changing the angle, pounding roughly. I scrape my nails down his back until it arches. He hisses and then laughs coarsely. I kiss him again, wanting his tongue in my mouth as he claims my body. We press together, hot and slick and coated in each other.
He speeds up just as I cry out again into his mouth, shattering into a thousand pieces around his demanding, invading body.
With a low groan and a final, shuddering thrust, he finishes deep inside me.
It’s a long, long time before I can recall how to breathe.
Chapter 13
Eden
SURVIVAL TIP #150
When men start swinging their dicks around—duck!
W hen I wake the next morning, I can’t help but be relieved at finding myself alone. Jaykob had me twice more during the night, but, despite my delicious soreness, the memories of all the things I let him do to me—the things that I did to him— have me burying my face into a pillow.