“Come for me, baby.” He rocketed inside her, shoving her closer and closer, his low, strained voice another stimulant to her overly sensitive flesh. “Drown me in this pussy. Give it to me.”
Like match to dry kindling, she went up in flames, his demand the accelerant. Her spine bowed, lifting her torso off the bed, her head grinding into the pillow. She shattered with a scream, soaring high, breaking. And he rode her through every explosion, intensifying it, prolonging it.
“That’s it,” he praised. “You’re so fucking beautiful coming all over my cock.” He crushed a kiss to her parted lips. “So beautiful.”
When the last quiver subsided, he eased out of her body, gently shoving her thighs toward her chest. He leaned over, grabbed a pillow and tucked it under her ass. She glanced down, excitement fluttering in her chest. His cock gleamed with her wetness, and he swept his fingers through her folds, gathering more and sliding it over his flesh.
He palmed her ass, spreading her wide and exposing her hole. Air tickled the entrance, replaced in seconds by the broad head of his dick. She stared up at him, drinking in the lust stamping his features, glittering in his eyes, pulling his mouth into a dark snarl. She needed to imprint this image on her mind for when he was no longer there, in her bed, on top of her, inside her.
“Ready, baby?” he murmured. His gaze flicked up to her, waiting for her nod. “Good. Goddamn, this is going to be so good.”
He pressed forward, the tip penetrating her anus. She gasped. Like earlier, pain blasted her, but this time it was sharper, brighter. For an instant, it capsized the arousal, and she almost told him never mind. But, she inhaled, pushed against him, fisted the sheets. Relax, breathe. Relax, breathe. She repeated the mantra in her head until the pain dulled, blurred with returning pleasure and even more pressure than before.
“Okay?” Griffin studied her face, holding himself unnaturally still. She noted the strain his control cost in the lines bracketing his full lips, the almost imperceptible tremble in his frame.
She brushed her fingertips over that grim mouth. “Yes.”
His lashes briefly lowered, and he bowed his head, his grip on the backs of her thighs tightening. “Stay with me, baby,” he muttered. “I want you there with me.”
Stay with me. Her heart lurched, the foolish organ taking his plea as something more, deeper than it meant. And damn if she could stop the rush of love that flowed through her. Not when he was steadily pressing into her body, branding her in the most primal way possible. She didn’t fight the emotional upheaval, even as she fully accepted his possession. Later… Later when the sweat dried and real life resumed she could go back to denying. But not now.
Griffin worked himself inside her ass, tender but determined. She squirmed and writhed, unable to remain still as each inch gained stretched and burned, the pain intensifying the pleasure. She alternated between wanting to push him away and yearning to pull him closer, demanding more. More. More…
“Fuck.” His lips parted, his lashes fluttered as his pelvis pressed to her pussy, his balls to her ass. “So long. All of me.Fuck.” His disjointed words scattered around them, his entire length a throbbing pressure in her ass, stealing her sanity.
“Griff,” she whined, pleaded. “I need…” She didn’t finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to. He knew her body, her needs better than anyone else—better than herself.
“Touch yourself,” he ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. He plunged two fingers inside her pussy, burrowing inside her with a force that had her keening high and wild. “C’mon, baby. Touch yourself for me. Show me how bad you want me to fuck this tight, sweet ass.”
Unable to resist him, she trailed her hand down her chest, over her quivering belly to her sex. At the first touch of her fingers to her clit, she jerked, the rapture of it almost too much to bear.
“Yeah, that’s what I want,” he growled, falling forward and gripping the top of the headboard so hard tendons stood out in stark relief under his sweat-dampened skin. “I could fucking die in you, Hayden.”
He withdrew then snapped his hips, thrusting inside, setting nerve endings on fire that hadn’t been ignited since the last time his cock had opened her up. She moaned, circled and rubbed her clit in time with his forceful strokes into her ass. He consumed her, riding her, giving her no quarter, destroying her with each plunge that touched a place she hadn’t known existed before him. Her flesh sizzled under her touch, the small nub growing harder, larger. She slipped her other hand through her drenched folds to her pussy entrance and stabbed two fingers inside her, the hungry walls immediately clamping down on the digits. God, it was too much. Too much…
She detonated. Exploded. Imploded. Screams filled her head as she hurtled over the edge into a fire that consumed her, devoured her. And she willingly dove into the flames.
9
If there were different shades of stupid, then she was the fucking rainbow of stupidity.
Hayden groaned, resting her forehead against the shower wall. Hot water streamed over her head, pelting her shoulders, but doing nothing to ease the tension from her body. Which sucked since she’d bought the massage showerhead for that exact purpose. Apparently, the manufacturer meant it loosened muscles and eased stress not caused by spectacular, space-bending sex.
Sighing, she tilted her head back, allowing the spray to drench her face. Behind her eyelids, images of the previous night and early morning flashed by like a Cinemax movie reel. Sinuous heat coiled and snaked through her veins, leaving a path of simmering arousal in its wake. She shivered in the steam, the tremble having nothing to do with the hot water and everything to do with the memories that bombarded her.
Idiot. Now that the fog of passion no longer clouded her judgment, she couldn’t convince herself that sex with him had been harmless. Letting him into her body had only paved the road for her heart. In the cold light of morning she couldn’t deny it. As long as he hadn’t touched her, filled her—completed her—she could pretend he didn’t have a claim on her heart, her soul. But he’d razed those illusions to the ground with his desire, his overwhelming sexuality and tenderness.
No longer could she blame him for her loneliness or disinterest in other men. It was her. All her. She only came alive for one man; she’d only given her heart to one man. And that man walked away from her five years ago and was preparing to do so again in a matter of days.
She was royally screwed.
Pain throbbed in her chest, and she rubbed a palm above her breast as if it could soothe the ache there. The ache that would only worsen with the coming days, the more time she spent with him. God, she needed space and time to think, to regroup. But since Joshua assigned her to him as his personal assistant, she didn’t have the distance to rebuild her defenses.
And she needed to erect that barrier as high as the damn Great Wall of China, because she didn’t trust him. Not to stay, not with her heart.
Twisting the knob, she shut the water off and emerged from the shower. Quickly, as if chased by her relentless thoughts, she dried off her body and rubbed the excess water from her hair. Minutes later, clad in her robe as if it were a suit of armor, she entered her empty bedroom and released a soft sigh of relief.
The first time she faced Griffin after their marathon of sex needed to be fully clothed.