More than Once

9

“I don’t know if I can be gentle tonight,” I said, nipping at her earlobe.

“Thank god. I don’t want it gentle.”

I paused. “No?”

“No.” She was breathing heavily, her face flushed with desire. “Be rough with me. I can take it. I want it.”

My hands tightened around her arms, fingers biting into her skin. Her words had unlocked something within me, something I’d kept buried deep inside, something I’d always craved. I’d never found the right girl—had either been too worried about what my girlfriends would think or knew they wouldn’t be open to it. But this girl seemed to want it as much as I did.

I didn’t know her. I’d probably never see her again. Maybe for tonight, for one night only, I could finally let my darker desires out to play.

“Take off your clothes,” I ordered. “Slowly.”

She gave me a sultry smile and slid her hands down her body, tracing the curves of her breasts and the swell of her hips. She teased me with a swipe of her tongue across her lips as she undid her shorts, inching them down her smooth legs. Underneath, she wore a tiny black thong, and damn if that wasn’t the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

She slowly raised the tank top off her body and threw it across the room, revealing a black bra that barely covered anything. She stripped it off and looped her finger through a strap, holding it there for a second before letting it drop to the floor. There wasn’t a single hint of hesitation or shyness on her face.

I swallowed hard at the sight of her gorgeous, supple breasts and her smooth, pale stomach. No more piercings, but she had a tattooed phrase on her left side, across her ribs, although I couldn’t read what it said from here. I’d never been with a girl with a tattoo before, and the idea made me harder than anything I could remember.

She hooked a finger in her thong, raising her eyebrows at me. But I shook my head. I liked her like that, in nothing but her thong and her boots, waiting for me to take control.

“Tell me what you want,” she said. “I’ll do anything.”

Anything? I unbuckled my belt. “Get on your knees.”

She kneeled before me and knew exactly what to do after that. While she slid my jeans down, she gazed up at me with sinful brown eyes and moistened her red lips. Jesus, I was so excited just from watching her undress me I worried one touch of those sultry lips might set me off.

We’d find out soon enough.

I slid my hand into her pale hair and gripped it hard, holding her head in place. “Now, take it. Take it all.”

A brief, naughty smile crossed her face, and then she opened for me.

Flicking her tongue along my skin.

Taking me inside her mouth, deeper and deeper.

Sliding me in and out, between her pinup-girl lips.

“f**k, Becca, you have the sexiest mouth I’ve ever seen,” I said, yanking at her hair as I thrust toward her. She opened wider, sucking me in all the way to the hilt. When her fingers squeezed my balls, I nearly lost control. If she kept this up, I’d explode in her mouth, and I wasn’t ready to come just yet.

I reached for the slim measure of control I still had and shoved her back, popping out of her mouth. “Enough.”

She licked at her lips and pouted up at me. “But I want more.”

“Oh, you’ll get more. Don’t worry.” I hauled her to her feet, one hand still tangled in her short, thick hair. With the other, I reached between her legs, searching her out, and she moaned as I rubbed against her. Her thong was practically dripping wet, clinging tight to her skin. “You liked that, didn’t you? Sucking me off?”

“Yes,” she gasped, as I ran a finger up and down the slick fabric.

Jesus, she really did enjoy this. Me being rough with her. Controlling her. Dominating her. I’d never done this with Tara or any other girl I’d been with. With them, I’d gone slow. I’d been gentle. I’d focused on making them happy, while holding back what I really craved.

Not tonight. With Becca, I was going to take what I wanted—but I’d make damn sure she enjoyed herself, too.

I dragged her head back, burying myself in her neck and in the taste of her. The thong was pushed aside, and my fingers found her even wetter underneath. She clung to my shirt, tearing it open and ripping it off me. I was pretty sure some of the buttons popped off in the process, but f**k it. I could get a new shirt later.

With one quick movement, I threw her on the bed. She bounced on the thick duvet and looked up at me from behind her dark lashes. She still wore that tiny black thong with those combat boots and nothing else, and she spread her knees wide in invitation.

I stripped off the rest of my clothes faster than I’d ever undressed in my life, then climbed over her, on top of her. Pressing her down into the bed. Rubbing against her. Only the thin fabric of her panties blocked me. I was dying to be inside her, but I wanted her to beg for it first.

I made my way down her body, stopping to lick every single inch of her beautiful breasts, taking extra time to worship her n*****s. She liked it when I tugged at them with my teeth, when I sucked hard, when I mixed a little pain with the pleasure. It turned me on even more seeing her respond like that, with her back arching and little whimpers escaping from her lips. Her fingers found my hair, tugging at it hard, and I found I liked the pain as much as she did.

Next I kissed along her soft, smooth stomach and read the dark script tattooed along her ribs: Every saint has a past. Every sinner has a future. A quote by Oscar Wilde, one of my favorites. God, now I liked her even more. But who was the saint and who was the sinner tonight?