Ghost Dance (Tulsa Thunderbirds Book 3) (12 page)

She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I feel a lot of things. Not everything, but more than I ever expected to. Mainly, I just can’t use my body the way I could before. I don’t have much control over my legs or other…things.”

I added another finger and stretched her. Her flesh gave way, like butter, easily accommodating me. “Why you want me to fuck you?”

One of her devious smiles lit up her face. “Because I want you. And because you want me, too, but you don’t
want
to want me. It pisses you off, and that turns me on.” As if to prove her words, a fresh wave of slickness coated my fingers.

She was right about it pissing me off. But I couldn’t stop myself from touching her.

I lowered her jeans and panties past her hips and tugged them free from her ankles, tossing them to join her shirt on the floor. But instead of stripping myself, I dug out a dental dam and ripped it open.

She raised a brow in question.

I raised her legs and spread them so she was wide open for me, her glistening, pink pussy on perfect display. “Hold your legs,” I said.

A question still in her eyes, she put one hand behind each knee and held them in place. I positioned the piece of latex over her sweet pussy, and then I went to town.

“Oh, fuck,” she said as soon as my tongue connected with her skin. I suckled, licked, nipped, and swirled until she was a moaning, writhing mess, and her voice was nothing more than a high-pitched stream of “Fuck me already. Bastard.”

I added my fingers to the mix again, using them to stretch her while I focused my mouth on her more sensitive areas.

Her thighs crushed against the sides of my head, holding me in place.

Her clit was hard. Swollen. Pulsing. I knew she was close, so I sucked it between my lips and gently rolled it between my lips and teeth until her pussy clenched around my fingers and tried to keep them inside.

Breathing hard, her body covered with a sheen of sweat, she glared down at me when I lifted my head. I kept my fingers inside her and used my thumb to continue teasing her clit.

“Stop,” she complained. “I’m too sensitive now.”

“Thought you wanted me to fuck you.”

“I did. You should have gotten on with things before you made me come.”

“Can still fuck you now. You can come again.”

London jerked on my beard, dragging me up until my face was level with hers, so I could see how intense her pout was. “I said I’m too sensitive. I can suck you off.”

I couldn’t seem to stop myself—especially not since her swollen lips were in such a sexy pout. I kissed her, forcing my tongue into her mouth to tangle with hers. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and drew me closer, keeping her other hand fisted in my beard. I ground myself against her until she whimpered and squirmed, rocking against me.

“I like you sensitive,” I said, nipping her lower lip. “Like a fucking cat in heat. Want to make your pussy purr.”

“It’ll be yowling instead of purring if you don’t stop.” But she didn’t let go of me.

“I could make you scream. Thick walls. No one will hear.”

She glared at me, digging at my fly. With one hand, she found my cock and rubbed it through the layer of fabric. “Big boy. Didn’t you say you had a better use for my dirty mouth?”

“Should fill it with cock so you shut up.”

“Maybe you should.” She licked her lips, her pink tongue leaving a trail of moisture that made my cock twitch against her hand.

“Maybe I will.” I climbed off her and got rid of my clothes, donning a condom before climbing over her again. This time, I straddled her head.

She rested one hand on my thigh and opened her mouth, her tongue out to swirl around the head of my dick. Then she bobbed forward and took most of my length, pointing her tongue to slide along the ridge on the underside. I groaned when she took my balls in her other hand and massaged them, my hips rocking back and forth. She let me fuck her mouth like I wanted to fuck her pussy, her eyes staying on mine.

Every now and then, she pulled me out and licked my length up and down, using her hands to pump me.

“Much better use of dirty mouth,” I said. I leaned back and found one of her tits with my hand, teasing it until she moaned against my cock. The vibrations felt so fucking good I wanted to feel more of that. And I knew exactly what I could do to make that happen.

I twisted myself around until I was facing the other direction, my knees on either side of London’s head, and my head positioned over her pussy.

“I’m too sensitive,” she complained as my fingers found her slit. When my thumb brushed over her clit, her entire body bucked beneath me.

“Want to make you come again.” I wanted it so bad I could taste it—definitely more than I wanted to get off, myself. “Want me to stop?” I asked, praying she’d give me the answer I wanted. I circled her clit with my tongue while I waited on her reply.

She kept me waiting so long I was almost convinced she was going to tell me to go fuck myself.

“Don’t stop,” she finally groaned.

I slipped my fingers inside her opening and went back to work on her clit with my mouth. She took my cock into her mouth again, warm and wet and open for me. She whimpered and moaned, writhing beneath me, which only brought me closer to losing control. She grabbed my ass and held on, and I thrust into her like an animal.

The rougher I treated her, the wilder and wetter she became.

She clenched around my fingers again and cried out, but her voice was muffled against my cock. The vibrations were almost more than I could take.

I had to be inside her.

Couldn’t wait any longer.

I flipped around, grabbed a pillow, lifted her hips, shoved it beneath her, tossed the dam out of my way, and pushed into her sweet pussy before her orgasm had completely subsided, reveling in the way her body squeezed my cock.

The angle allowed me to go deep. So fucking deep. I melted into her, letting her swallow me whole.

Her eyes were almost manic, dark pupils so wide they virtually erased her brown irises. I eased myself in and out, in and out, picking up a slow rhythm to start even though every pore in my body was screaming to fuck her hard and fast.

She grabbed my beard again and drew me over her, using the fingernails of her other hand to scrape a path from my shoulder to my ass and back. I braced myself on my forearms. She dug her nails into my ass so hard she might have broken the skin.

I hissed in a breath and picked up my tempo.

“Does it hurt?” she asked, digging in harder.

“Yes.” I thrust again, so deep it made her eyes widen.

“Good or bad?”

“Good.” So fucking good I never wanted it to stop. I didn’t even care that she was teasing me or throwing my own words back in my face.

“Good. So fuck me, Dima,” she said, burying her face against my neck. “I need you to fuck me.”

So I did. I fucked her hard and fast, both of us almost angry in our intensity, scratching, biting, clawing, slapping. Even when we had sex, it was a damn fight with her. This woman would be the death of me.

London’s legs shook until the quaking took over her whole body, and she arched up into me again with her biggest climax yet. This one lasted so long it left me shaking, on the verge of my own orgasm.

I pulled out and reached down to bring myself to completion, but she beat me to it. She jerked my cock until I came with a shout and collapsed over her, crushing her into the mattress.

I wasn’t sure how long we lay like that. Long enough that the cool air in the room made me shiver as the sweat dried. Long enough that our breathing settled back to normal. Long enough for London to start shoving at me to get off her. Long enough that I realized there was nowhere I wanted to be right at that moment than exactly where I was, with this angry, infuriating, hardheaded, mouthy woman trapped beneath me.

And that scared the shit out of me.

EVEN THOUGH I
was caught beneath a surly Russian bear of a man, I was as content as I’d been in a long time. Sex endorphins were good, even after bad sex. But what had just happened between the two of us? I don’t know exactly what I’d call it, but
sex
wasn’t a powerful enough word.

Still, I’d always enjoyed poking the bear, and now was no exception to that rule. I jabbed a finger under his ribs. “Get up. You’re suffocating me.”

“Good. Maybe your dirty mouth will learn to shut up if you can’t breathe.” He didn’t budge. Not even an inch.

“Maybe next time you shove your dick in my mouth, I’ll use my teeth.”

“You wanted dick, you got plenty of it.”

“I don’t know that yours is anything to write home about,” I shot off before I could think better of it.

He laughed. “Who called me
big boy
, hmm? And who had three fucking orgasms? Said she was too sensitive, couldn’t come again?”

“Bastard.”

“Bitch.”

I bit his shoulder. Hard.

He lifted himself off me just enough that he could slide a hand between us. I hadn’t been lying about my sensitivity. I’d never climaxed three times before, but it was entirely possible that it was because I’d always made my partner stop because it ached too much to keep going after the first time. Who knew that it was a sign I could come again—even more intensely—and not a sign that I needed to stop?

Apparently,
Dima
was the answer to that question.

He rubbed slow circles around my still-swollen clit, and my body responded immediately. “Still too sensitive?” he ground out.

“Yes.”

“This hurts?” He circled me faster.

“Yes.” I could barely breathe again, and my eyes felt like they were going to roll back in my head at any moment.

“Good or bad hurt?”

“So good.”

He gave me a cocky grin—one of the first times I’d ever seen him smile—and kissed me slow and deep.

It didn’t take long before I shattered again, perfectly content to let him pin me to the mattress forever, as long as he would keep making me come.

SOMETIME LATER, DIMA
crawled out of bed and picked me up, ignoring my protests. All I wanted to do was lie in bed all day, trying to recover from our marathon bout of wild sex. He carried me to the bathroom and set me on the edge of the tub, then handed me a cloth. “I’ll get your chair,” he said. Then he went downstairs, completely nude.