No one else I’ve ever been with has made me so entirely, immensely aware of every sensation. I feel him down to the ridges of his knuckles, caressing inside me.
He conquers my whole world, in this moment; there’s nothing but the heavy rasp of his breaths in my ear, the heat and pressure of his body, the unyielding planes of hard muscle beneath my digging fingers, the sweet violation of his fingers coming deeper and deeper.
Twisting. Pumping. Taking. Pushing.
Thrusting me higher and higher each time he strokes, quickening his delicious pressure against the trigger points on my inner walls.
I can’t take it. My pussy can't.
He’s too damn much. He’s always been too much, but I never thought I’d find myself like this, wrapped around him and pleading with soft, needy keens in the back of my throat.
He’ll destroy me if he doesn’t end this soon. If he doesn't bring me off...
I turn my head, lips against his ear. “Landon,” I whisper.
I want to say please, please stop teasing. Please be with me. Please let me feel you.
But there are no more words. I'm hollowed out, and there's nothing but this twisty-aching-wonderful-awful-beautiful-terrible feeling inside that has to have him. And it won't go anywhere until he's had his fill of me.
It's like the wavelength stretching between us speaks for me. It’s as though he understands me, understands me the way the old Landon used to, the boy who called me Reb and told me I was better than all the people who hurt me. He stops, gently slipping his fingers from my body. That dark, commanding voice murmurs against my ear, my jaw, my throat.
“You want me?”
I nod, struggling to catch my breath as my entire body throbs with the after-impression of his touch. “Please.”
He’s already dragging my shorts, my panties away – peeling them down my legs, stroking over my thighs with his fingertips in the process, until they quiver.
Then I’m bared before him, the last scraps of cloth clinging to me, and his zipper drops with a heavy rasp. I bury my face against his shoulder, feeling hard heat pressing against me, the tip slick and dripping and burning against my flesh, thick and teasing against me until my stomach clenches and my breaths hitch.
“Landon.”
“Say it,” he demands in a low, broken growl. “Say you want me.”
It only feels like torture because it's true.
I feel small inside, when he asks. Vulnerable and fragile, as if he’s asking me not just to bare my body to him, but to open my soul and trust him enough to let him inside after all these years of hurt and pain. As if he’s asking if I truly do see him as someone other than a monster.
As if he's asking if I could ever see redemption, enough to give him my naked heart.
It’s only a breath of hesitation, before I know. Before I find my voice, even if it’s just a shaky whisper. “I want you,” I whisper. “I’ve always wanted you, Landon.”
He lets out a low, almost tortured groan, but doesn’t move.
For half a broken second I’m afraid I said the wrong thing.
Then I hear a condom wrapper crinkling and the brush of his hand between us in practiced movements before that heat is against me again, barely dimmed by the shield of latex, and he’s capturing my lips.
Capturing my body.
Capturing my heart.
“Kenna,” he whispers against my mouth. “Reb. Fuck.”
That last word is a warning. All I get before the full force of his primal, animalistic power hits.
He rolls his hips against mine, a hard surge of muscle bunching under my fingertips, plunging his cock into my trembling, clenching depths.
It’s slow – so slow.
A sweet, delirious eternity I've wanted forever.
I can’t escape the feeling of every inch of him gliding inside me, moving with such perfectly controlled strength and giving me that feeling of fullness I’ve been craving one heavy, gasping moment at a time.
I can’t help rocking toward him, needy and hungry, but he gives no quarter.
One rough hand pins me to the ground with brute force, his fingers digging tight into my hip, forcing me to take him only at his pace. Forcing me to wait for every new burst of fire until I’m a whimpering mess just craving more.
My pussy hurts in the best way it can. Physically aches to take this man so deep, engulfing every inch of him, drawing his thickness halfway to my soul.
And then I feel it.
That fiery moment when our hips crash together, when we lock so perfectly, when he fits inside me just right.
That moment when he's touching all those places that turn me into fireworks and stars. My clit seethes, buried under his pubic bone, gently grinding against me each time we collide.
I'm gone. Bonelessly limp with pleasure, melted underneath him while he kisses me fiercely, delving into me until there’s no part of me he hasn’t touched. I feel the whirling stars overhead in my bones, the grass and earth underneath me, the dark god of primal things inside, this animalistic thing that’s less human and more a force of nature.
It's sex incarnate, and so are we, two old souls locked together in mindless ecstasy. His hips crash harder. Faster. His fucks come insanely deep, driving into parts of me no man has ever touched, a feral growl pouring out his lips every time he makes me gasp a little louder.
Then Landon clutches me to him, wraps my thighs around him, and moves...
And all else falls away.
I remember him as Poseidon in the waves, and he moves me like the tide.
Slow and subtle yet no less cataclysmic, with the strength to change the landscape inside me.
Every thrust hits hard, a barely-caged brute force, restrained just enough to keep me teetering between pleasure and pain.
He draws out one slow fraction at a time, teasing and tormenting me, only to surge in harder and give me everything I need in the sensation of his big cock stretching me, burying me, touching me deeper, deeper, oh sweet hell, deeper.
I’m overflowing with heat. It steams out every pore. I'm tangling my body with his and riding his rhythm until I’m in constant flux, my entire body a heartbeat of pleasure and fire and screaming, mad sensation.
His name on my lips, kissed between us again and again.
His body inside mine.
His weight everywhere, trapping me and keeping me safe. His hands on me, shaping me, molding me, memorizing me as if he’d brand me into his palms.
Then wildness between us, riding higher and higher, until I can’t take it anymore.
I turn my face from his, bite down on his throat like the little animal he’s made me, tasting the salt of his sweat.
Then I'm gone in throbbing white heat.
Sharp convulsions roll through me, seismic and hot, centered on that thick brand of fire moving between my thighs, dragging me under into a drowning sea of sweet darkness, of delicious friction, of shuddering, dick-riding release.
I’m sinking, spinning, barely aware of him shuddering atop me, a faint whisper becoming a snarl in my ear. “Reb, fuck. Look. Give me those eyes, baby. Right here.”
I listen, losing myself in his blue gaze, fierce air storming from my lungs. His own eyes narrow, more like a tiger's than a man's anymore.
Then he says what I've been waiting for. “Want to see your green when I lose it, Reb. Want your eyes on mine when I give it the fuck up, spill every screaming drop I've got into you, woman.”
Holy hell.
My hips start pounding into his, a shrill sound coming in the back of my throat. I just came, but my clit can barely stand how hard he starts to fuck. Landon pushes his forehead against mine, and we're eye-to-eye when our O comes together and the universe spins apart.
So gone.
Just a few sharp jerks of his hips. That moment when his whole body goes rigid and he growls my name. His dick swelling while my pussy pulls at every inch, and then a magma heat I swear I feel, even through the condom.
I scream one long spasm, losing myself in the storm of his body slamming into mine.
All I can do is cling to him, adrift, my heart fluttering loudly and strangely, and my body forever branded with his mark.
*
I think I actually passed out.
I think Landon Strauss honest-to-God fucked me into blacking out.
That’s a first.