His clothes weren't far behind. I sucked my bottom lip as I saw his cut fall, and then the shirt he wore under it. He rolled it off over his head to reveal the dark tattoos I loved to scratch, kiss, and bite.
We always started slow, but ended so rough. Fucking Skin was like a slow moving heat storm, a tempest that made me wet with sweat and desire. One that didn't let up until I was completely exhausted, shaken, and wanting him all over again.
His pants dropped and he kicked off his boots, saving his boxers for last. His cock sprang out, angry and ready, pulling him toward the bed like a magnet, eager to fill me hard and deep.
Two more steps, and his hand shot out. He stopped near my belly, grabbing at the sheet, and ripped it off in one vicious yank. It went flying over his shoulder across the room, and there was nothing else between us.
“Fuck me outta my mind,” he growled.
I swooned as his hungry eyes crawled over me, slowly feeding our lust. He saw everything I had for him, the creamy lingerie I'd picked out. White stockings, white panties, white bra.
White, just like something I'd wear walking down the aisle, or maybe on my honeymoon.
I'd decided that morning I wasn't waiting for a wedding to dress like his whore, his wife.
I ached to feel every inch of him slamming me senseless in our brand new home. It had been the longest morning of my life at Daddy's office, like torture, waiting to trade my long business dress for this lingerie I'd picked out as his old lady.
“You're damned lucky I'm gonna make you come your brains out before I shove my cock inside you, woman. It'll make it easier when I shred that white lace you're wearing like fucking confetti.”
He pounced, covering me with his massive, beautiful body. I moaned when I felt his cock press against my panties, nothing but sopping wet lace between us. Skin's lips pulsed along my neck, kissing down my throat.
His hand moved aggressively, pulling my bra aside. I whimpered and shook when he took my nipple in his mouth. It only caused him to growl, and pin me down harder.
Holy shit. Holy Skin. Holy Parker!
Yes, everything was holy when his wicked mouth went to work. His free hand slipped down the waistband to my panties and he circled my clit, faster and faster as his tongue moved like clockwork over my nipples.
I feared I'd come on the spot. My hands scratched at his powerful wrist, but he held me down so easily, dominating me completely.
This man never lied. He always lived by his word, doing exactly what he promised, whether he was killing monsters on the street or taking over every inch of me.
That meant I could never hide, never hold back, never stop the waves of pleasure from crashing over me and sweeping me away.
When a man possesses you so much, seizes every molecule with his energy, hiding isn't even an option.
“Fuck, Parker...I can't!”
Oh, but I could. His tongue moved to my opposite breast just as his thumb found my clit, running over it again and again. His rough fingers stroked my * to heaven.
I could take anything and everything with this man.
I came hard, right on his hand, feeling my cunt tense up and gush. He lifted his head off my breasts and crushed his lips over my mouth, stifling my breathless gasps, swallowing every scream.
“Beautiful, babe, just fuckin' beautiful. You know you come like a rocket a little more every time we do this, yeah?”
I squinted through the ecstasy, regrouping my senses. “Light me up again.”
He stared down at me with those dark brown eyes and grinned. “Baby, you don't need to ask me twice. You're a kept woman now that we're sharing a bed every night. We're gonna ruin these sheets with scorch marks by the end of the week.”
He took my hands, jerked me up like a ragdoll, and flipped me over on the bed. Before I even knew what was happening, my panties snapped down to my knees so fast I swore he really did rip them in two.
His growl pressed against my thighs, vibrating through his lips, moving into my skin like a slow moving storm.
Even after all this time, he still scared me in the best ways. I finally had a man who'd never let anyone disrespect me, not even myself. He'd fight for me, bleed for me, kill for me. He'd already done it.
I couldn't imagine how possessive he'd get someday when we were hitched and I had a baby in my arms. The thought made my knees tremble, and so did his tongue, his stubble, both sliding deliciously up, up, up, dangerously close to my aching *.
“Skin – please! Let me feel you. No teasing, not today. You know what I'm dying for...”
Wish granted. Without a word, his thick hands shoved my legs apart, and his tongue caught the cream leaking out of me. He licked my entire slit like it was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.
Long, greedy, * clenching licks. Fuck!
I almost lost it again. With him, I turned into every cliché in romance, a sticky, breathless mess of a woman whose mind blanked on everything except the primal need to have him buried in me.