Post by Darien Buchannon ☠ on Dec 9, 2009 21:44:14 GMT -5
Oh, with the second striptease…he really wished he’d managed to snag his switchblade from his boot before she threw it onto the floor. Turning his head to watch her slide out of her panties, he could practically feel his brain twitch and whatever common sense he might have had, burst into flames.
And then burst into flames again, like some kind of retarded phoenix, when she hooked that toned leg of hers over his hip and…GOD. He was either in Heaven, or the VIP portion of Hell, that was for DAMN sure.
“A BAD thing?” He managed, voice a thick croak as he looked up at her, eyes glazed and hands drifting over her soft skin. “Baby, if this is bad, I’m all for experiencing pure torture. Get over here.”
Following her lead, he moved over her, wedging himself between her thighs with a throaty groan. He looked down into her face, twisted with the beginnings of pleasure, and something feral crossed over his. There just wasn’t anything like seeing his woman looking like she were ready to break and start begging. Not that he ever expected her to do so, but…
Aw hell, never the hell mind. He couldn’t wait, even if he had a damn choice.
Letting his lips trail over the curve of her shoulder, her neck and lower, he felt something in the pit of his stomach unfurl. He hadn’t even reacted to the ‘his woman’ thought, and the realization warmed a part of him kept hidden since he’d shipped her off to Atlantic City. Hell…she’d gone and let his enemy in; he’d have at least shipped her over to Timbuktu, not one state over. He must’ve known, even then, that she was the only person he’d be happy with.
For all of its sappy, teenage feelings, this little fireball beneath him was the other half of his soul. Without her, he was a joking, irritable douchebag, waiting for someone to get reputable enough to finally take him out. He was just some gangbanger, a tattooist’s wet dream, an ex-convict who’d probably spend the rest of his life separated from society for their protection.
But with Connie? Hell, with her…he was a different person entirely. Maybe even a guy worth taking a bullet for.
Trapping her face between his hands, he leaned down to kiss her softly, lips toying with hers as his body slid against her, just right and…
GOD AND FUCKING A.
Gritting his teeth, he rested his forehead against her neck, body on fire and jaw just about ready to crack. His knees dug into the mattress as he moved, just ever so slightly and fucking hell, if he didn’t die right then.
Now, if the room had been quiet, if he could just squeeze his eyes shut and remind himself that he wasn’t his usual ‘wham, bam, thanks ho’ self, he could have made things last. Hell, maybe even been a gentleman about the whole thing. But Lord, he was a red blooded man, and those little sounds she made were enough to send him into the point of no return.
The people next door were probably cursing the loud crash of the bed against the wall, but he was too far gone to think of anything. Anything but the feeling of her under him, the taste of her on his tongue, the little moans she made over the squeal of the bed beneath them. His lips were pulled back into a grimace, hands on her body and clenched into the sheet beneath her. Either he was going to spontaneously combust from that blissful friction or…or…
Yeah. He’d just spontaneously combust, period.
In a rush that made his eyeballs threaten to melt in his head, pleasure washed over him, pushing him to move harder, faster against her. His lips met hers in a crushing kiss, her name loud on his lips.
And then, Jesus Christ, what the hell was his name, and whoever the woman beneath him was, he was gonna build her a goddamn shrine. For a minute, Dare could only lie over her, arms shaking from the strain of keeping his weight off of her. He knew he must’ve been a sight; scarred, tattooed and shaking like he’d just gone through some kind of warped electroshock. Who the hell knew that sex could feel like this?
…Actually, forget that; he did. Because Connie was his, and she’d be around him for a long ass time, after this. Even if she had to tie him to his goddamn side.
Rolling over onto his back, he lay gulping air and staring up at the ceiling. “Jesuuuus Cheeeerist,” He managed to gasp, one arm flopping over his head. “I think we should try to kill each other and part ways for another six to eight years, because that…that…hell, I can’t even form words.”