Page 89 of Arran's Obsession
He batted me away. “Hands to yourself. I want this one to be all me.”
Fine. I closed my eyes and just felt. The pressure of his hand on my sensitive bundle of nerves. The stretch of his dick. That rhythmic pounding against my G-spot. It built and built, the sensation so perfect I could live in that moment. Swim in the joy of how well we fitted.
My inner walls pulsed with the beginnings of my climax. I moaned and flexed, seeking it out. Wanting it all. Dying to reach the finish line at last without fear of never getting there. Arran uttered a masculine sound of deep need but kept delivering that exacting action on my body.
I was so close. So urgently almost there.
“Kiss me,” I begged.
“No.”
I could’ve cried in frustration, but then my desire crested and I was soaring. I sighed in happiness, dizzy with good feeling as my orgasm smacked me down. Around Arran’s dick, I throbbed.
He went motionless, only his hand moving until I stopped it with mine.
“Holy shit,” he said, once my hearing had returned.
I hid my smile, bubbling over with happiness for what we’d done. He was still so hard, lodged inside me, our sex session nowhere near complete. But like this? I could see us having so much fun together.
In a rush, I had to make him come inside me. We hadn’t done that yet, and I needed it more than I needed air. Or to keep playing. God. All of it.
I slid my wet channel up and down his rigid length, gripping him tight.
Arran gave a dark laugh. “Turn over.”
Lazily, I flipped so I was on my front. “You an ass man?”
“I’m an everything man when it comes to your body.” He grazed his fingertips down my spine, keeping on going past my backside to plunge his fingers into me from behind. Then he grabbed my hips and lifted me, his tongue sliding in with his fingers. He licked me clean.
“I did this when you were asleep.”
“Went down on me?”
“Told you your taste drives me insane. Now I know how you taste when you’ve come.”
I remembered something else he’d told me about that night, too. I shivered at the memory. “You fucked me with your knife handle, too.”
Arran stilled. “Did that scare you?”
“It should’ve, but no.” All sense left me when it came to this man.
He pulled away, padding from the room without a word. I sat up and watched the door, but he returned, his holster in his hand.
Thick leather. The black handle of the weapon ridged.
My breath caught. Arran had sat over me and used that knife. Cut my clothes off then pushed it inside me, all while I slept. What if I’d twitched or jerked in my sleep?
Slashed him by accident with my pussy?
I slapped a hand to my mouth, hiding my strange hit of dark humour.
“Something funny?”
No way was I admitting that thought. “I’m just nervous.”
“You should be. Lie back on the pillows.” Arran grabbed my ankle and tugged it, repeating the action with the other side to widen my legs, then knelt in the gap.
With the holster still in place, he ran the tool between my breasts and down my body. The city lights from the arched window reflected on a tiny slice of the blade beneath the hilt.