Caught (Prequel to Hawk) (Sex and Bullets) (5 page)

He pushes deeper, and my eyes all but roll up in my head. His hips rock and he grabs and lifts my legs over his hips, one after the other, boots and all.

Allowing him to bury himself in all the way. A gasp escapes him, and when I can finally pry my lids open to see, I find his eyes wide with something akin to shock.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers, and I’d say the same if I had any breath left. “You okay?”

I love that he asks me, and it’s cute, too, like he’s aware his dick is pretty big and that he can cause physical damage.

At my nod, he starts to move, and things escalate fast from there. The pressure increases, the pleasure ratchets up, until I’m holding on to his arms for dear life, shocked at the needy sounds leaving my mouth.

Gradually I become aware I’m using real words. “Faster. Yes. Oh God. Like that. Yeah. Please.”

And he fucks me into an orgasm that catches me off guard—a sudden clench deep inside me, a roll of heat, a sparkle that burns and aches in the best way—and I’m crying out his name, the heels of my boots digging into his muscular ass as I come apart.

I feel an answering shudder in his body as I float in a haze of pleasure, feel his thrusts lose rhythm, and he moans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His cock pulses inside me, the heat of his release seeping through the condom, and another wave of pleasure rolls through me.

“Hell, babe.” He’s panting, and I just love that it’s because of me. He pulls out of me, making us both groan, and rolls over, to my side, working the latex off. “That was fucking awesome.”

He holds the condom, staring at it, a crease between his pale brows.

“What is it?” I feel liquid, a pool of satisfied woman, as I roll on my side to get a better look at him, and maybe finally also run my hands over him.

“It’s just that…” His mouth twists, and he glances at me quickly, then away. “This isn’t my usual game.”

“What do you mean?” A thread of unease weaves itself through my mind.

“Simple sex.”

I blink. Okay, what? “You mean normally you do more things like…” I frown back at him. “Like the roses?”

His brow smooths out and he grins, catching me off guard with the openness of his expression. “Yeah. Just like the roses.”

“You can use the roses if you like.” I nod at where he dropped them, on a side table. A bit of heat rolls up my face when I admit, “I liked that.”

“Well, well…” He lifts a hand to my face, strokes my cheek, and his eyes go soft. “Really?”

“Really.” I shift, feeling kind of ridiculous only dressed in my bunched up skirt and boots, but the way his gaze travels down my body washes the feeling away in a tide of want. “I thought it was hot.”

“It sure was.”

And he’s right here, and I want. I want so much more.

Dammit.

I give in and sit up, then put my hands on his chest. Firm, warm, smooth, muscles rolling under my palms as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, observing me.

“What is it, girl?” He looks down, when my hands trail over his washboard abs to his navel. His cock is semi-hard, stirring more as my touch approaches it.

“Just wanted to touch you like this.”

“Then by all means.” His gaze drifts up from my hands to my boobs, and his lashes lower over dilated eyes. His cock is hardening, lifting between us. “If you keep it up, though, I might not be able to try something else with you.”

“Like what?”

“Like that.” He nods at something.

Something else he’s left on the side table, I realize, turning reluctantly to see, something silver coiled beside the roses.

“What is it?”

“Take a look.”

I love how his body feels under my touch. I hesitate, slipping my hands up his hard pecs to his shoulders. Love how wide they are, how my fingers splay over his forearms, looking tiny resting on his biceps. He has more ink there. Words in a cursive script, encircling his upper arms.

He puts those arms around me as he throws his bare legs off the bed. He stands, lifting me with him, and I wrap my legs around him with a yelp as he moves.

He walks over to the side table and lets me slide back down. My cheek rests on his bare chest for a moment, and his heartbeat thuds steadily in my ear.

So warm and solid. He feels so good.

But curiosity finally wins out and I turn, bending over the table to take a closer look at the silver thing. I tug at it. The handle is silvery indeed, but from it sprout black leather strips.

“What is this thing?”

“My new flogger,” Hawk says, pressing his chest to my back and sliding his arms around my waist. “I bought it just for you. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

***

It is sleek and dangerous looking, I think, turning it over in my hands. I’m kneeling on the bed, and Hawk is lying on his back beside me, one arm folded under his head, his gray eyes luminous as he studies my face, waiting for my verdict.

“Is this… like a whip?” I wet my dry lips with the tip of my tongue, and Hawk lifts a hand to my face and wipes my mouth with the tip of his finger.

“Yeah. A hand whip. But it doesn’t really hurt. Like the roses.” He gives me a crooked grin. “Try it on your hand. You’ll see.”

Try it?
I wrap my hand around the silver handle and drag the soft leather strips over my other hand. It tickles. It feels… good.

Then I lift it up and bring it down on my open palm a bit harder.

“Oh fuck…” Hawk’s eyes turn to slits. He lowers his hand to his crotch and that’s when I realize he’s hard again. “I want to do that to you.”

“You do?” I mean, obviously, if he bought this flogger just for me, but it’s kind of weird. And exciting. “Where would you hit me with it?”

“On your back. Your ass.” He tugs on his cock, toys with the barbells, and a flush rises to his cheekbones, making his eyes glitter. “On your tits. Between your legs.”

Shit.
I’m breathing hard, and the tips of my breasts ache, tight with desire. I never thought I’d want a guy to hit me with anything, roses or whips.

But I can’t deny that the thought, the mental image of Hawk doing that to me is setting me on fire.

“Yes,” I whisper before I even know I’m saying it. “I want it.”

He curses softly, sitting up and putting both hands on my face, his rough palms catching on my skin. He leans in. “Are you sure, Doll?”

“Yes,” I say before I change my mind.

His smile is soft, softer than the strips of his flogger. “I promise it will be so fucking good. And if you wanna stop, just say the word, okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice. Then he unclasps my skirt and pulls it off me, and I’m naked, except for my boots.

“Love your boots,” he whispers darkly, letting my skirt fall to the floor. “Turn around.”

I turn on all fours, and he puts a warm, heavy hand in the small of my back. “Like this?”

“Damn perfect.” Something cool and velvety caresses my leg, and I realize it’s the flogger. He lets the strips trail over my back, over my ass, lets them flow over my crack, over my exposed pussy, and I shudder, tiny jolts of pleasure running up my spine. “You look fucking beautiful.”

I turn my head, to say not sure what, when he lifts the flogger and lets it fall on my back. There’s almost no force behind it, only gravity, it seems—and the impact is soft and yet startling. Pleasurable.

Instead of speaking, I moan, my head falling forward.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, letting the flogger fall on my back again and again, each time a little lower, stroking shoulder blades, my ribs, reaching my ass. He works the strips over my ass cheeks, and the pleasure mounts and floods into my core, making me clench.

That’s when he spreads my legs more, draws back a little and lets the strips fall right over my pussy, hard.

“Oh God!” I flinch and shake, and it’s not really pain, but it’s not pleasure, either. It’s just shock.

“Relax,” he says, but then does it again, and again, and then it’s all pleasure, dark, thick pleasure that drips down my belly like syrup, tightening my insides until I can’t breathe.

My legs are trembling, and when he hits me again, I small cry pushes past my lips.

I’m close to coming, I realize with a start. From this. From Hawk flogging my ass.

“Like this?” He now drags the strips over my pussy, and I whine deep in my throat from the tantalizing stroke.

“More,” I beg. “Harder.”

“Seeing you writhe like that, seeing how you like it… Hot damn.” He snaps the flogger against my inner thigh and I struggle to bite back another plea.

So close.

He strikes my other thigh, the impact leaving a light sting that only makes my belly tighten more.

“Please, Hawk…” I need.

Need more.

“Turn around.” When I don’t move, my body too taut with need, he pushes down on my back until I’m lying on my belly, and then rolls me over.

I look up into his handsome face, and he smiles, slow and sexy.

He trails the strips of the flogger over my breasts, then flicks them over my belly, and I gasp. He sits back enough to snap the flogger over my boobs, over my hard nipples, and I’m lost in sensation. I grab at the sheets, needing a tether.

I find none as he alternates between my boobs, then slips his other hand between my legs and breaches me with two fingers.

“Holy shit!” I rock against his hand, the pleasure bursting in me like a firework, flames and sparks, and I come so hard my vision goes black. The pleasure liquefies my bones. “God…”

His fingers are still inside me. He’s holding himself still, sitting back on his knees, and between his legs…

Good God, he’s so hard it’s impressive.

And I want his cock inside me. “Please,” I whisper, and reach down, glide my hand over my belly until I brush over my clit and touch his hand that’s still half-buried inside me. “In me.”

He kind of grunts, the flogger dropping from his hand on the mattress, and he pulls his fingers out of me, slowly, dragging on my inner walls, sending ripples of pleasure into my core.

Bracing himself on one hand, he guides his cock into me in one thrust that seems to go on forever, until he’s seated inside me.

We both cry out at the sensation.

He’s hot, and so hard, and when he does a sort of push-up over me, and I lift my legs to his waist, he crushes his mouth to mine and groans against my lips.

Feels even better than last time. So much better. He surges like a wave inside me, muscles flexing in his chest, his arms, his legs. There’s nothing slow, nothing gentle about this lovemaking. His pelvis is rocking, his dick pushing in and out of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress as he picks up speed.

He’s thrusting deep inside me, hard and fast strokes, his breaths coming in uneven pants.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “fuck, fuck, babe, I’m…” His strokes turn shallow and frantic, and I moan his name as another tsunami of pleasure hits me, taking me under.

His forehead drops to mine. His breath catches, his hips jerk, then again. And again. He comes for a long time, waves of liquid heat bursting deep inside me.

“Fuck me…” He shudders when I clench around him again. “That was…”

Awesome.

Amazing.

Better than ever.

It’s not until later, when he finally pulls out of me, that I realize something else. There’s liquid dripping out of me.

And he has no condom on.