Rough (RRR #2) Page 7

  “Shower,” he says and smiles when I wind my arms around his neck, clinging to him. “I smell like my horse and that’s not good. C’mon beauty, you’ll get you what you want, we have all the time in the world.”

  *

  Holt…

  What am I gonna do with this beautiful girl? I could fall in love with her, that’s all I know, and maybe I already have. I learned a long time ago to let anger pass through me and just let it go, it’s how I survived as the target of my father’s misery. But I was angry enough to have really hurt Campbell today, fucking cocksucker, I could see it in his eyes, how much he’d love to take Scarlet and use her. My blood is still boiling, but not because I’m angry, because I need to claim this girl as mine, I need to see the proof on her skin, I need to see it dawn in her eyes when she knows it without a single doubt.

  Her arms are wound so tightly around my neck as I lean down to where she lays on the couch, her face is flushed, lips parted, she wants me to spank her again. Fuck, I can’t believe how much she wants to push the boundaries. I lift her in my arms and carry her to my bedroom, set her down at the edge of the bed and know immediately that was a bad move. Scarlet next to my bed makes my cock jerk and my body scream to be inside her, pumping hard and fast until she shouts my name. But I can’t do that, she wants to test her limits so I’m gonna show her how good slow and rough can feel.

  “Undress,” I tell her and her eyes light up as she kicks off her boots and stands up to shimmy out of her jeans.

  She is a fucking miracle, every curve, the swell of her round pink-tipped breasts, they fit in my hands and my mouth like she was made for me. I lick my lips as her nipples tighten under my gaze and I have to force myself to turn away, go into the bathroom, turn on the shower and nearly rip off my own clothes. And then she’s standing behind me, her sweat-slicked body against my back, her arms snake around my waist and grip my cock, her bare little mound is pressed against my ass as she rises up on her toes to kiss my shoulders, her tongue tasting the salty skin on my neck. I step into the shower and bring her with me, the water cascades over us and it’s warm and wet and erotic, just like her.

  “Wash me,” I say and her pupils dilate, the sun has brushed her cheeks with bronze today and her honey colored eyes are wild and tiger-like in her beautiful face.

  She holds out her hands and they tremble as I fill them with shower gel, she’s eager, panting as her hands move over my body, she lingers on my cock and her tongue flicks out across her full bottom lip. I lift her hands to my chest and she looks disappointed for a moment, until I begin to bathe her, my hands slippery as I lather her shoulders, massage the fragrant gel into the tense cords of her neck. She leans into me, our bodies slick and soapy, our hands frantic, discovering each other once again. She takes her time as she moves over my ass, I can tell she loves the feel of it, her hands move over my skin reverently. I rock my hips forward and she gasps, stepping closer as my fingers glide over her smooth, slick pussy. She is so, so warm and ready. I slide a finger inside and she groans and bucks into my touch. God, she’s ready to come and so greedy for this, eager to let me handle her body any way I want. And I want to be rough, tie her up, make her wait, beg, scream, come on my mouth, my fingers, my cock, and then do it all over again.

  She begins to quiver and I thrust another finger into her and pump in and out, slow, slower as she begs. I fucking love it when she loses it, lets go of her Southern Belle politeness and pants out these perfect little sounds. Dirty words that sound so fucking sweet when she purrs them with her angel’s voice.

  Ahhhh! Yesssss, fuck, don’t stop. Holt, I n-need to c-come, hurry. Let me… pleeeezzz, I need your cock IN me… and your fingers, fucking hell! Like that….

  I pull my fingers out just before she comes and her eyes spring open and I grin and kiss her, my tongue pressing into her bow-shaped mouth. She groans and I can tell by the taste of salt on my tongue that tears of frustration have slipped down her sunburned cheeks. I turn off the water and spin her around to face the tile wall, gather her wrists in one hand and lift them above her head. She’s trembling, waiting, scared and excited, she presses her ass toward me and I bring my free hand down hard on her creamy white skin. She screams in surprise and then moans, resting her cheek against the cool tile wall, spreads her legs and whispers, “More, please, more.” She has the most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen, white, smooth, fucking perfectly round, high and firm, and now pink where my handprint blooms across her skin.

  “Beauty, is this what you want? Don’t move or I’ll stop, understand?” I whisper, she nods, whimpering, whispering over and over—again!—I release her hands and she presses her palms against the tile. I cup her breast, so soft and full, a perfect fit in my hand, and my hands are big. I pinch first one nipple and then the other, she flinches and groans and moves her legs farther apart. I jerk my hand away when she moves, press it into her back and bring my free hand down hard on her ass. She moans and then groans out a tortured “I’m s-sorry.” I rub my palm into the red mark on her skin, soothing the shock, easing the sting, and she whimpers and says, “Again, Holt. More.” I spank her three more times massaging the tingling handprint after each blow, and she loves it, loves letting me control her pleasure, loves how the bite of pain melts into a warm, erotic pulse that shoots straight to her pussy.

  I lift her and carry her to the bed, she’s pleading for me to make her come— I’m close, just one more time, put your hand on me, spank me, it’s sooo good, so fucking far beyond good, Holt!

  “Shhh, shhh, Scarlet. Listen to me, I’m only gonna leave you here for a minute. I need to get the rope, do you want that, beauty? I’m gonna tie you up.” I say and she sinks back against the pillows and exhales a long and ecstatic, “Yesssss!”

  *

  Scarlet…

  Fuck! If I ever wanted anything more than I want the feel of Holt Corrigan’s rough, calloused hands smacking into my skin and then soothing the searing pain until it dissolves into pleasure, I can’t remember what it might have been. Everything I want is here in this house, in this room—I want him and nothing more. I can’t think beyond his touch, the way he feels, smells, sounds, that I need this feeling to last forever, that I want the world to know he’s mine.

  He leaves me on the bed, walks over to a chest of drawers, and I lift up on my elbows and watch him. My heart is thundering so hard that I can see my breast rising and falling with each beat. When he turns back to face me his gaze is savage, hungry, and barely controlled. He holds a length of rope in his hands and I swear I almost come just looking at it and him. His face is unbearably beautiful, his naked body is a natural phenomenon, huge and hulking, both frightening and erotically alluring as he kneels at the foot of the bed and drags the rope across my thighs. This rope is different from the piece I found in his truck the night we first made love. It feels the same, like fine silk, but it’s gold and there’s a lot more of it. He sees the question in my eyes, and although he’s all bundled energy and concentration, he breaks out that little-boy grin.

  “I ordered it from an outfitter in Montana,” He says, sensing my question as he coils each end around his hands and slides the center behind my back and tells me to lie down. “Pure silk, and I knew the gold color would look amazing against your creamy skin, and fuck it does.”

  The look on his face as he crisscrosses my body with his rope is one I’ll remember as long as I live. The rope is absolutely his thing, and wrapping me in it, looping the soft/strong coils around my arms, in a wide X across my breasts, tying the most exquisite knot below my naval, has him sighing and euphoric as he sits back on his heels to admire his handiwork.

  “How’s that feel, too tight?” He asks, his voice so low and gravelly it’s like he’s become a different person. “Tell me how it feels, beauty, you okay with this?”

  “Soft… good, perfect.” Is all I can manage as I test these bindings, strain against them for a moment. They’re soft and secure, my arms are bound to my torso, my palms spread fla
t on the sides of my hips. My skin, every muscle, every nerve is alive and electric and when his palms smooth up my thighs to test the knot at my belly, my hips arch toward his touch on a reflex.

  “You look amazing,” he says and he has to tear his gaze away from my body to look in my eyes. His eyes are so intense, so in love with what he sees, so fucking into this, that I feel my core clenching, feel the moisture of my arousal on the inside of my thighs, and I know that I am one touch, one breath, away from igniting, collapsing, in the best possible way.

  He hovers over me, his body blocking out the last rays of the setting sun, then he lowers his mouth to mine, sucking my bottom lip before he consumes me, claims me. I arch up as his hand cups my breast, his fingers tease my nipple into a sensitive peak and I want his lips there, and he fucking knows what I need! His tongue licks down my neck, lightly teasing, taunting, then he sucks my nipple into his mouth and I’m trembling and frantic beneath him, afraid that he’ll stop, won’t let me come, and it feels like heaven and I don’t want him to stop, I need to come. His teeth grate over the tightened peak, his tongue and his lips are sucking, pulling, wet and hot. He laughs against my tortured skin and it’s more of a growl, “You close, beauty? See how good this is? Just let it all go, let me do the work and give you what you need. Fuck, you’re gonna come this way, aren’t you! So fucking easy and good, my sweet beauty.”

  It’s like a nuclear explosion when it hits me, I come against his lips, thrashing against the rope. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, every inch of my skin is hyper-sensitive, the rope forces me to focus on his touch, his breath, his words, I’m reduced to feeling—only feeling—and it’s sublime.

  I’m panting, gasping for just one clear thought, one deep breath, but he doesn’t give me the chance. His hands tangle in my hair as he kisses me, deep and rough/tender, his tongue delving the same way it does when his mouth is on my…. And then he does just that, he leaves my swollen lips, and before I can lift my head to watch his tongue lashes deep into my pussy. I scream, unable to stop the sound from erupting, and when he laughs so sweet and low the sound echoes over and inside me. I want to dig my fingers into his hair, his shoulders, any part of his fucking hot body and hold him so he can’t move away.

  His hands skirt up my body to knead my breasts as he licks and sucks, hard and fast, then soft and light, fingers tugging my nipples, plucking at the peaks he just devoured with his mouth. I can feel the tension building in my core, clawing its way from some deep, dark place hidden inside me. I’m bound by his rope, a willing prisoner and now I’m on overload, the orgasm building is too much, too huge and cataclysmic. I try to twist away from the glorious pressure of his mouth, I want it, but I don’t, I have to have it, but I can’t handle it. I squirm, and try to press my thighs together, to wriggle out of his grasp, he lifts his head for a split second and he looks like a predator, wild, savage, secure knowing that I love what he’s doing to me but the intensity is just so far over the fucking top.

  “Uhuh, open your legs, Scarlet. I haven’t even started with this sweet pussy. You are so totally mine.”

  His words push me past any hope of resistance, and isn’t that the point? I don’t want to resist, I never want to leave this room. I want to come against his mouth and do it NOW so he’ll lift that massive body above me, grin his wicked grin and let me have his cock. I’m not even aware that I’ve lifted my shoulders off the bed, but he presses me back down with one hand on my chest. I lie back and as soon as my back hits the sheets his tongue is dragging across my pussy and his thumb is on my clit, circling slow and steady. I’m coming so fast and so hard and when my hips rise up to meet his magic touch he cups my ass with his free hand and then slaps it hard. I yelp, unable to control the surprise, and then he rubs his palm against the sting, soothing, warm and delicious as he whispers against my pussy, Good, good girl! One more time, beauty, give me one more, and let’s make it last, it hurts so fucking good to make it last.

  “No, just fuck me now!” I yell, but I can already feel it building, clawing up my thighs as he licks and sucks, working me over hard, his tongue so fucking skilled and greedy, he pushes two fingers into me and curls them, pressing, pumping, until I’m screaming and quaking, and tears spill down my cheeks.

  He sits back on his heels and watches me as I quiver and shudder, coming down from the ultimate high, there’s no drug in the world that can compare to Holt’s brand of sex. He looms above me, licks and kisses my tears away, whispers that he loves to see me like this. I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

  “This is serious, do you know that? This isn’t going to fade away. I’m never gonna get over you, Scarlet, it’s not just sex. Okay, listen to me, it’s gonna be tender when I take off the rope, then it’ll feel amazing.” I’m barely aware that he’s said actual words, I’m so deliriously lost in a climax-coma.

  I lift my head and watch, mesmerized as he unwraps the rope. He’s careful, his brows furrow and his jaw twitches with intensity. There are marks, slight indentions where the rope pressed against my skin and left a beautiful pattern. He sucks in his breath and runs his thumbs over them, caressing, committing the sight to memory.

  “How does it feel? Tell me, Scarlet, I need to hear and I need to fuck you. You’re three orgasms up on me, I fucking want to know if you like the fucking rope.”

  I suppress a smile at the frustration in his tone, he wants me to like it, to love it the way he does, and he’s held back while he made sure I was more than satisfied, time after time.

  “Come here,” I say lifting up to grip his bulging biceps. I lie back down and show him exactly where I want him—not inside me quite yet—but above me, blocking out the rest of the world, straddling my chest with his cock just touching my lips.

  “Fuck, beauty, I swear to God I won’t last. You sure? I wanna come in your mouth, but I want to be inside you, too. Fucking hell!” He yells when I lick my lips and twist my tongue intently around the flared head.

  His cock is diamond-hard and more than ready for this, the veins stand out against the shaft, ropey and pulsing. My skin is tingling from the rope, every nerve ending is on fire, he looms over me, presses his hands against the headboard to steady himself. He curses and I can tell he’s fighting not to just let go, to hold my head still and plunge into my mouth.

  “This is too much, my cock on your velvet tongue, careful, careful Scarlet, I swear I’m close!”

  I gaze up at him and he groans as he watches me, like this is the most amazing thing he’s ever witnessed. He’s in love with what he sees—the rope marks on my skin, his cock against my swollen lips, my eyes wide with satisfaction at the feel and taste of him. He’s so close to falling over the edge that his expression can only show me the truth, it’s a study in adoration for me.

  His eyes fall closed and cock jerks, but he pulls out and moves down my body before he’s done. He leans up once more, tangles a hand in my hair, kisses me with tender yearning. His lips brush butterfly wings over my skin, down to kiss the imprint of the rope on my belly. His fingers slide over my clit, circling, probing my swollen lips before he rips open a condom package, and gives me what I’ve been waiting for.

  He steadies himself on the bed with one hand and guides his cock to my entrance, I arch up as he thrusts, and that’s it—we are done with fingers and lips, done with any action that doesn’t involve him inside me—this is all about the fucking.

  He curls those big hands around my waist and I lean into his grip, holding his wide shoulders, pulling him down on top of me. I want his weight, his dirty words—So sweet, your pussy is so fucking sweet! It fits like a glove. I’m close, fucking wait and let’s do this together, Scarlet!—his hips flexing, my hands on his ass, gripping, grinding him into me as he pumps, sweat trickles off his forehead and falls on my breast and he licks it off, sucks my nipple into a hard, painful bud, and we move together, sticky with sweat and my fluids. He fucks rough and hard, moving my body to suit him, he lifts my thigh and kisses it, then
places it on his shoulder and I fucking lose it when he slams into me. I’m clenching down hard and flooding his cock, rocked by spasms as he throws his head back and roars his release, pouring into me as if he will never stop.

  Afterward we lay spent, spooning together as the night sounds filter in through the wavy-glass windows. Locusts chirp, doves coo, coyotes howl at the full moon, and a pair of javelinas pause beneath the window snorting and squealing. I say they sound like they’re in pain, and Holt laughs and says they’re mating, and most certainly not in any pain.

  “Why did you finally give in and use the rope?” I ask when he rolls over onto his back and I lay my head on his chest. I could lie like this for hours, content to hear the steady thump thump of his heart, the best sound in this primitive part of the world.

  “I couldn’t use the rope before, you didn’t know me. You were a visitor in my house, an innocent girl.”

  “I knew you, Holt Corrigan, from the very first time we met. And I’m twenty-two, old enough to make my own choices, you’re only five years older than I am, it’s not like you’re an old man,”

  “I am an old man, always have been. Every motherless boy is born old and grows up fast and hard, especially with a sadistic father who lays all the blame at his feet.”

  I take his hands in mine, turn his palms up and kiss the scars that slash across the calloused skin. “Did he do this to you, your father?”

  “Yep, but only once, I was seven years old and he was drunk and mean, as usual. I raised my hands to stop him from “flicking me with his knife” as he called it. He never cut me deep, but that time he did to teach me a lesson.”

  “To teach you a lesson?”