Make Me Forget - Page 37

All his self-lectures in regard to patience incinerated, he resituated himself to enter her. Without him telling her to, she twisted and lifted her pelvis slightly. When she reached the prime angle, he flexed his hips.

“That’s it. Right there,” he mumbled tensely, grasping her hip with his free hand. Just the tip of his cock was pressed against her opening. He could feel her through the condom: Her heat. The narrowness of her channel.

God, he’d love to fuck her raw, nothing between them. Nothing separating them.

He turned his chin and wiped the sweat that had gathered on his upper lip onto his shirt. The edges of his vision had taken on a red cast that had nothing to do with the dying sun. He pressed with his hips, grimacing in pleasure at the sensation of her body squeezing the entire head of his cock. Nevertheless, he heard her soft moan, and it wasn’t one of pleasure.

He clutched at her naked hip, stopping himself with great effort. Sliding his hand down her thigh, he bent her knee further into her body, applying a pressure with his pelvis the whole time.

“There,” he exhaled, hearing her soft whimper as he pierced her slowly. She was so sweet, but her flesh resisted him subtly. He pulsed his hips, even more determined now that he felt the glory of her. He stared blindly at the corner post that held the canopy as he flexed back and forth, sinking further into her. Her gasps and soft moans fell on his ears, but this time he recognized her arousal. The sounds goaded him on, intertwining with the throb of his heartbeat and the exquisite sensation of penetrating her. A full, wild feeling swelled in him.

His pelvis bumped against the curve of her ass. He pulled her back against him while he flexed, pressing his balls against her damp, tender outer sex.

He felt so raw. So exposed. A shudder went through him.

Her sharp, desperate cry pierced his haze.

“Harper,” he bit out. Her reply was a deep moan. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. God, yes,” he heard her mumble.

“Good. Because I can’t take this anymore.”

He drew out of her, a snarl twisting his lips as pleasure tore through him.

He finally abandoned himself to it, driving into her again and again, their flesh slapping together in a taut, erotic rhythm, glorying in the perfect friction that both satisfied and prodded him onward at once. All the while, he was aware of her sleek body moving in tandem with him and of her sharp cries of excitement. But the m

adness of need was what ruled him primarily in those tense minutes of decadent pleasure.

At first, he wouldn’t let himself look at her. His resources were strained to the limit as it was. He fucked her hard, drowning in her, while staring with fixed determination at the bedpost, the cabana bar . . . anywhere but at Harper. But as his strokes grew faster and Harper’s cries grew sharper, he found himself moving without thought of consequence. He drew out of her, his cock like a single slick, quivering, raw nerve, and reached for a pillow. He dragged it under Harper’s hip and gently pushed her onto it, so that she was facedown.

“That’s it,” he praised, because when he’d released her wrists, she’d scooted her body into the precise position he’d wanted in his greedy possession of her. She arched her back slightly and edged her knees up on the chaise mattress, sending her ass up several inches off the pillow. He grabbed another pillow and shoved it under her. And there she was, full in his vision: her gorgeous copper-colored hair tossed on the pillows and across her elegant back, her lovely profile turned to him, her cheek flushed red, her lips parted as she panted, her round, pale ass poking into the air. He pushed back a plump buttock and glimpsed her glossy, pink sex.

A groan ripped at his throat. Harper McFadden. His for the taking.

Planting his hands on the mattress near her shoulders, he plunged into her. It was a full-fledged orgy of need. His feet clawed for a hold, and he found one on the wooden frame of the lounger. Anchored in place, his knees came off the mattress. Using his flexing legs to power him, he drove the full length of his cock into her repeatedly, heedless of anything but seeking his ultimate goal. It was selfish on his part. But that’s not what Jacob would have called those euphoric, desperate moments. To him, it was a clawing compulsion to finally burn deep inside her.

He felt her tighten around him, and her sharp, wild cries finally penetrated his awareness. Her arms were outstretched over her head. She clawed mindlessly at the mattress while she climaxed around him, her ass flexing tight. He felt himself cresting at the vision. He took her with short, ruthless strokes intended to ignite.

It felt like he gave all of himself . . . sacrificed everything, just like he had twenty years ago.

As harsh shudders of orgasm began to wane, the sobering reality of that frantic realization slowly penetrated his awareness. It cleared his haze of rabid lust faster than anything else possibly could have.

• • •

He’d taken her by storm, and in the aftermath, Harper knew only one thing: She wanted to do it again. She wanted him again, even now as she lay there panting from her climax with Jacob Latimer still high and hard inside her. He’d said he’d show her how much he desired her, and he’d proven it in spades.

She heard his ragged breath behind her cease abruptly. Air hissed past her teeth when he withdrew from her. Her tissues stung slightly—he hadn’t been joking about taking her hard. She’d never been taken that forcefully or in such a wholesale fashion in her life. But it wasn’t the sting of her sex that made her gasp in discomfort. It was the loss of him filling her.

She rolled over on the pillows, swiping her hair out of her face. He pushed with his arms in a powerful gesture and came off both her and the chaise lounge in one fluid movement. She watched him as he quickly and casually removed the condom. Her breath caught. He still wore the cobalt blue button-down shirt. His glistening, long cock protruded from beneath the hemline of his shirt as he walked past the lounge toward a door behind the bar.

A flicker of unease went through her when he didn’t look her way or say anything before he disappeared behind the bathroom door. She sat up partially on the chaise lounge, suddenly very aware of her nakedness . . .

Of being alone.

Her thighs were splayed on the cushion. She shut her legs. The sun had completely set now. The pool lights and a light behind the bar illuminated the deck. It had cooled off, and her body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. A breeze swirled around her. She shivered.

She heard him come out of the bathroom and instinctively reached for one of the pillows they’d tossed about while having sex. He walked toward her, looking down as he reached for the buttons on his shirt. She glimpsed his muscular chest and golden brown, flat abdomen. It didn’t seem fair somehow, that she found him so starkly appealing, when she was increasingly confused by his manner. Shock popped through her when she realized he was buttoning his shirt up, not down. He glanced up, his gaze snagging on the pillow she’d placed in front of her belly and breasts.

Tags: Beth Kery Erotic
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