“I want you to come for me, Ava. Now,” I order, taking a break from mouthing her nipples.
She does. Her legs clench me tight against her body as it arches off the bed. I feel her come soak my cock and I almost lose control. My hips jerk and the huge head of my erection slips inside her wet, hot hole and that small contact is enough to set me off.
With a roar, I rear back and grab my cock. With a few rough jerks, I pull the orgasm from the base of my spine. It barrels out, spurting long, milky jets onto her bare mound, over her belly, and onto the curves of her breasts.
She lies beneath me, panting and wide-eyed.
I stare at the mess I’ve made and I find I’m not sorry at all. No. There’s only one thought in my head, only one concept that runs in a tight circle inside my brain. I bring my hand down on her belly into the viscous fluid and smear it everywhere. I even drag two fingers of it down over her pubis and into her hot cunt, shoving my sperm up inside that tight channel.
My entire world has narrowed down to four letters. Mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
AVA
Well.
I pant, trying to get air back into my lungs. I’ve just come so hard my brain feels it should be leaking out of my ears. Between my slick thighs, Rafe slides his fingers inside me, pumping over and over again. It’s sending aftershocks skittering through my body with every movement of his fingers, but I don’t tell him to stop.
I feel good. Actually, I feel amazing. But I still feel hollow deep inside, and it’s something that even his pumping, thrusting fingers can’t satisfy. In the crudest terms, it’s the hollow ache that can only be satisfied by a good, deep dicking.
And we haven’t even come close to that.
“Rafe,” I murmur when I can breathe again. My hands trail over his shoulders. “How are you . . .”
I pause, because it feels weird to ask. Are you hanging in there? Are you getting all weirded out? Does he think I’m not going to notice that he flinched away from sticking that baseball bat inside me? Rafe is many things, and so is Godzilla. “Ignorable” is nowhere on that list.
“I’m the happiest goddamn man alive.” His voice is raspy, and he pushes his fingers into me again, fascinated by the slick glide. “And you’re so goddamn beautiful it hurts.”
“That’s a lot of goddamns,” I say lightly. I feel a bit silly. Really good, pretty boneless, but silly. “Save a little for later.”
“Later?” He looks up at me, finally, after intensely scrutinizing his fingers working in and out of my *. “You need to come again, baby?”
Me? I bite back the laugh that threatens to erupt and flex my hips instead, rocking on his fingers so they slide into me even harder. They make a wet noise inside me, and his fascinated gaze goes back to my *. “You still haven’t come, Rafe.”
“Oh, I did,” he breathes, pushing those fingers in me again as I rock down. “I came all over you.”
“But not inside me,” I tease, and squeeze my inner muscles around his fingers.
He hisses and I know he can feel me working him. He shakes his head. “Nah. I’m good.”
“You’re not.” I continue to work his fingers, and he pumps inside me even harder, and I bite my lip, because I’m getting all aroused all over again. “You mean to tell me if I reach down and grip your cock, it’s going to be all soft and limp in my hands?”
Rafe groans and presses his face against my thigh.
“That’s what I thought,” I say in a soft, teasing voice. “We’re not leaving this bed until you’re deep inside me, and you come so hard I feel it in my throat.”
Instead of telling me that it’s arousing to hear me talk like that, or that I’m sexy, he shakes his head and presses a kiss to my thigh. “I can’t. Jesus, I want to so badly, Ava, but I can’t. I’ll hurt you.”
“You won’t,” I exclaim.
“You’re too tight.” His fingers push inside me again, as if to prove his point.
“Then loosen me up.” I spread my legs wider, gripping my knees and presenting him with my open flesh.
His gaze goes there, then he shakes his head again. “I’ve had hookers turn me down at the sight of my cock, Ava.”
Yes, but they weren’t in love with you, I want to say. I bite back the words. It’s probably just jungle fever. Stockholm syndrome, something along those lines. I’ve grown attached to Rafe Mendoza over the last week, and right about now, I’d do anything for him. Maybe I’m not in my right mind to be declaring love right at this moment, so I won’t.
It’s clear my virgin needs to be eased into things. “How many fingers do you have inside me right now, baby?” I ask him.
“Two,” he says, voice gruff. “And you’re so fucking tight.”