“No,” I whisper.
Instead of arguing with me, Turner presses his mouth to mine. It’s sweet and soft at first. Like he wants to simply assure me he’s here. He’s right here.
Our kisses never stay soft and sweet though. The hunger that is always licking at our skin takes over. It consumes us.
“Please,” I moan and arch into his body. “Chase away the shadows.”
Turner freezes for a second before his hand wraps around my throat. He holds me steady while pulling back enough to be able to study my face.
“Are you sure?” His eyes bounce between mine, watching, assessing. “Because the way you were thrashing and muttering has me on edge. I didn’t like it.” Possessiveness coats his words, “I don’t want him to have access to you, even in your dreams.”
“I’m sure,” there’s no hesitation in my voice, just the dregs of my nightmare. “Take it all away.”
He starts by kissing my chest, right where my heart is pounding from the vestiges of my dream. The fear. The pain. It’s still so vivid.
When he trails his mouth over and sucks one of my hard nipples into his mouth, my back arches and my thighs wrap around his hips to try and pull him closer. I need it. Need the heat of him, the feel of his skin against mine.
Turner bites down on my nipple before sucking hard and I let out a moan that should make me embarrassed, but I just don’t have it in me. “Please,” I whimper, “I need you inside me.”
He releases my flesh with a wet plop before he trails his mouth across my chest and toward my other breast. “You’ll take what I give you, Angel,” his voice is husky and slightly muffled against my skin.
The length of his shaft finds my slick slit, sliding between my pussy lips and getting soaked in the process. He lets out a growl of approval as he sucks my other nipple into his mouth. I swear he tries to inhale as much of my tit as he can get.
And the man has a big fucking mouth.
It’s delicious. His mouth. And what it can do to me.
My fingers slide into his hair and I tug. Not to pull him away from my body, but to bring him impossibly closer. When he rocks his hips, the head of his cock slides over my clit and mypussy clenches around nothing. I tug a little harder on his hair, arching my back even more and offering myself to him.
Always.
“You need my cock, Graycie-girl?” He rumbles the question and my hips rock against him, seeking more friction, needing more. “I can feel how wet you are for me. So, fucking responsive,” his words wash over me like praise.
“Fuck me,” I plead. “Stretch me. Need to feel you fill me,” my words come out half-formed and half teeming with madness.
My head is whirling, but I know that he’ll make it all stop. I don’t know how he does it, but he does. My man. Pure fucking magic.
I feel him pull his hips back slightly and the crown of his cock notches at my entrance. Just as he shunts his hips forward, he bites down on my nipple. The warring sensations make me fly right over the edge.
Turner growls, the sound low, and feral. His eyes slide closed as he huffs a breath out of his nose like an angry fucking bull. When his eyes snap open, his gray depths are lit with a hunger I feel curling in my own gut.
Then he starts to move. There’s no finesse to his movements, only desire and need.
Every glide of his length inside of me, the way my walls stretch around his dick, has me panting out a pained breath. Not because he’s hurting me, but because he’s giving me exactly what I need.
My mind blanks as the pleasure builds. Again. It tightens inside of me; a spring lost in the gathering of energy. Ready to unspool.
Tighter.
Almost.
“I feel your pretty pussy getting tighter around me,” he grits the words out through his teeth.
His head is tipped back slightly while the corded muscles of his neck strain to show me the last of his control. My fingers slide down the back of his head to find purchase at the nape of his neck. And I hold on tight.
He pulls almost all the way out before he slams back home again. Over and over. A metronome of bliss our bodies keep time with naturally. Easily.
As if we just know; as if our souls just know.