“As if,” she said wryly.
Noah scooted until he was kneeling behind her. He swept her hair to the side, pulled her back against himself and began kissing her neck and shoulder.
She started melting, gasping. Tension inside her released with every skilful caress. She was so primed, so wound up, so needy. It was a brutal twist of fate that this panic held her back. His hand lingered over her breasts, sliding over her belly, then venturing lower. He nudged her forward. She caught herself on all fours.
He rose up, holding her hips. Stroking her ass, tenderly. Patiently.
He wanted her from behind.
“Give me your hand.” He wrapped her fingers around his penis. “Touch yourself,” he said. “And get me nice and wet.”
She did as he asked, pressing his stiff, hot rod against her slick divide. Sliding it up, down. His shudders of pleasure echoed her own. She thudded down onto her elbows. Ass in the air, wide open.
Noah positioned himself behind her, nudging her thighs wider. Caro’s hair hid her face like a curtain. She moaned, breathless and aching with anticipation as he pressed himself against her, but he just rocked the blunt tip of his shaft at her sensitive opening. Up and down. Teasing and tantalizing.
She pushed against him, trying to take him inside.
“Not yet,” he muttered. He caught her clitoris between his fingers as he rocked and stroked. One of his hands clasped over hers, clenched and rigid. Muscles locked with the effort of holding back. Waiting for her.
A secret chamber of her heart opened wide and a deep swell of emotion lifted her in one great toppling wave. She was engulfed.
When her eyes fluttered open, he’d thrust deep inside her and was still waiting. His fingers tightened over hers. “I love when you come around me. Do it again.”
He moved inside her slowly. Deep, gliding thrusts. His big penis stroked heavily against a glowing place inside that melted for him. He kept gliding over it and over it and over it, right where she needed him to be, making her whimper and gasp and sob. Feeling so free. So connected. She never wanted to be alone again.
No. Don’t go there yet. Don’t ruin this for yourself.
She’d thought she could just take what she needed and go when it was time to go. But it wasn’t happening like that at all.
She was the one being taken.
*
Fuck. Holding her too tightly. Couldn’t make his fingers relax. Grab a hook.
Couldn’t. He was lost in it. Swept away. Noah was aware, through the pounding roar in his ears, that his fingers were sunk too deep into the smooth roundness of her hips. Hard enough to bruise. He’d promised not frighten her, to be gentle. To not be the latest scary dickhead parading through her life.
But he’d never had sex with AVP raging before. It rode him hard, and did not care about the vows he’d made to himself. He couldn’t stop now if she were begging him to, if the sky were falling. His body was locked into frantic motion as he sensed where she needed to go, and pursued it. Ferociously.
He was no better than the psycho tool that Midlands tried to turn him into. They hadn’t been able to control him with meds or implants. Nothing could, except for massive knock-out drugs. Or chains.
Or euthanasia. Their final solution. He’d been scheduled for disposal, like a rabid dog. A waste of food, a failed investment, like the rest of his Midlands rebels. Almost all of them had been on the discard list. Examples of gene vectoring gone wrong.
He’d somehow convinced himself that he could prove them wrong and regain self-control. But he was losing it now.
The memory intensified the red haze of fury generated by the AVP. Twelve years of struggle every day and night to find his balance, his control. Now, fucked in an instant, with his dick slamming heavily into her, getting harder and longer with every aggressive stroke. Gleaming a hot, angry red. Her rich smell maddened him.
He’d been hijacked by AVP. The wild buzz of combat programming, channeled into sex. Scary combination. Caro was vulnerable, fragile. She’d trusted him, and look how he was treating her. Jesus.
She let out shocked, whimpering gasps at every deep stroke. Having the lights on made it worse. Light was a constant AVP stimulus, amplifying the feedback loop in his mind. He stared hungrily at every pink detail of her slick, flushed folds, clasping him, shiny and luminous. Her hot sea smell. Sweat stung his eyes. He was shoving her forward by the force of each thrust, her face pushed in the pillows, her throaty cries muffled but not by much. Her sig was crazy now, her colors blinding, incandescent.
And he came. Oh God.
The mountains did a vast, slow-motion lift-off into the sky . . . and fell back down on top of him. A thousand tons of broken rock.
He floated back, disoriented. Limp, soaked with sweat. His throat was dry, from panting. The thickness in his throat indicated that he’d been shouting. Who knew what.