He only had one course of action here. One way to distract her from making him come.
Keeping his hand over hers, he pumped his fingers into her tight channel and used his thumb to find that delicate bundle of nerves between the lips of her sex.
“Ride my hand now, Remi,” he ordered.
She did as she was told. A miracle in itself. Just like the one unfolding inside her. “Brick! I need…” She didn’t finish her sentence. Remi was too busy shaking against him, whimpering as earthquake tremors wracked her beautiful body. The picture she made when she let go and flew into her release was stunning. Unforgettable.
What happened inside her was magic. Her walls closed around his fingers so hard he was ravenous to feel the same on his dick. Closing and releasing. Rippling around him as her orgasm rolled on. She shook with pleasure while he watched, witnessing every wave that crashed over her. It was a privilege making Remington Ford come.
She clung to him with her free hand as she writhed against him, around him. It went on and on, and when those bottle green eyes finally opened again, they were glassy and unseeing.
He snatched her off the table and carried her, warm and pliant in his arms, to the bedroom.
There were so many ways he wanted to take her. He wanted to turn her ass pink and then sink between her legs as she came up on her tiptoes to take him. He wanted to fuck her against a wall so she had no escape from his hard thrusts. He wanted her to ride him on the couch, legs spread wide over his lap, his mouth on her breasts.
But this first time, he wanted to see everything.
“How conventional,” she teased as he lay her on the bed. “I took you for a bend a girl over the arm of a couch kind of man.”
“Give me time.”
All humor disappeared when he slid his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear and shucked them off. Remi looked dazed as his erection stood tall and proud like a warrior.
“Fuck,” she whispered.
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” he said grimly as he climbed onto the mattress between her legs, encircling her delicate ankles with his palms.
29
Naked Brick Callan, kneeling between her feet with hooded eyes and the longest, thickest, angriest hard-on she’d ever seen, was enough to take a girl’s breath away.
She’d known he’d be big. Hell, the rest of him was super-sized. But this was…impressive. And maybe just a little bit terrifying.
That first orgasm that had blazed through her, the one that rendered her weak-kneed and silent? The one that had hollowed her out?
She wanted another one from that.
She wanted him bending her over every flat surface in the cottage just so he could slap her ass until she begged for his cock. She wanted his mouth on her nipples, pulling, tugging, drinking her in, while his beard scraped her skin pink.
She wanted to be the place he found and lost himself.
“You’re doing a hell of a lot of not touching me right now,” she observed, keeping her tone light. If he had any inkling how much she wanted him to force that thick shaft inside her, he’d find a way to say no. To decide she couldn’t handle it.
“I’m hanging on by my fucking fingernails, Remi. I can’t not be inside you for much longer.” His confession reignited the fire between her legs. Her core pulsed greedily around the empty space inside her.
“Then put us both out of our misery,” she begged.
“First, you’re gonna show me how wet you still are for me. Then I’m going to taste you because I’ve been dying to know your flavor for as long as I can remember.”
She swallowed hard. “And then?” she squeaked.
“And then I’m going to sink my cock into you and make you mine.”
With that, he sat back on his knees, naked and fucking glorious.
“If you get up from this mattress without what we’re both dying for, I will chop your big, beautiful body up into pieces and feed you to the goddamn fish,” she threatened.
He gripped her jaw in one hand. “Baby, I’m the only one who gets to make threats in bed.”
She was perfectly fine with that. She bit his thumb and nearly came when she saw his cock jerk between the stone monuments of his massive thighs.
“The only reason one of us is getting off this mattress is to rehydrate,” he promised. “And if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll roll you over and make sure you think of me every time you sit down tomorrow.”
She was also good with that. Very, very good.
“Now, show me how wide you can spread for me.”
For once in her life, Remi wanted to obey. She let her knees fall open and reveled in the rumble in his chest when he stared down at her.
“So fucking wet. Do you like being my plaything?”
Brick Callan was dirty-talking her. She was light-headed with the fantasy come to life.
“Yes,” she confessed, her voice shaking.
“Good girl.”
It made her feel treasured and tortured. But there wasn’t time to worry about which one was more important, because Brick was sliding her underwear down her thighs again. Only this time, he took them all the way off.
He swore under his breath, eyes looking possessed, and then he was slipping his palms under her behind and lifting her up.
The first swipe of his tongue elicited a near scream from her and a pained groan from him. This was happening. The object of her fantasies was…God…fucking her with his tongue. She was raw and sensitive already, and the stiff thrusts of his tongue into her opening followed by long licks against her seam had her fingernails digging into his biceps.
“You taste so fucking good,” he said, pausing his assault to bite her inner thigh. “I need more time. I need more time with you,” he demanded.
“Yes. Okay,” she whispered back as her core turned to lava.
“Look at me, Remi,” he ordered.
With heroic effort, she managed to pry her eyelids open. He looked like a debauched devil between her legs. His beard rubbing at her inner thighs as his tongue darted out to tease her greedy clitoris.
“Fuck,” she dropped her head back against the pillow.
“Look at me,” he said again.
She lifted her head in frustration.
“Give me more time.”
“Ugh. Yes. Fine. Whatever.”
“For as long as you’re on this island, you’re mine.” His hands tightened on her hips and ass. “Say it, Remi. Promise me.”
She bit her lip. She didn’t want to make this promise. He’d hold her to it. And that would put him in danger. Unless she left.
One of his hands found her breast, fingers tugging restlessly on her nipple. “Promise me,” he demanded, his delicious, talented finger probing her entrance.
Desperate, needy, and maybe in her deepest recesses, there was a part of her that wanted to make this promise to him. She cracked. “Yes. Fine. As long as I’m on this island.”
“Finish it,” he said, sliding only the first inch of two fingers into her.
“I’m yours,” she breathed.