His body pressed dominantly over hers, his hips arching into her ass. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling as he strained to go even deeper.
No, he wasn’t concerned with her pleasure at the moment. She could feel the torment radiating from him. He acted. Did the only thing he knew to do to try and rid himself of the same vicious need that riddled her. Only she knew it would never go away. Never die.
Her fingers flexed and then curled into tight balls. Her head came up as he pulled relentlessly at her hair. She gasped as her orgasm built. The pressure was achingly fierce. His balls slapped against her mound with every lunge.
“Micah!”
“Mine,” he hissed.
She let out a small whisper of pain as he pulled harder at her hair, but it was forgotten as the storm gathered. Lightning surged, gathering in her pussy, exploding outward and surging into her belly.
As soon as she cried out again, he ripped himself from her spasming pussy. He yanked at her hair, pulling her from the table.
“On your knees,” he ordered.
Clumsily, she slid down his body, her muscles weak from her orgasm. She caught herself by grasping his knees. Even as she settled herself, he strengthened his grip at the back of her neck and tilted her head up.
He grasped his turgid erection with his free hand and forced his way past her lips. She barely had time to gasp a breath before he filled her. Her cheeks puffed outward, and she forced herself to relax so she could accommodate him fully.
He tilted her back so that she was at an angle. He went with her so his angle of entry was cleaner. The position enabled him to have complete control.
He withdrew, paused, then sank deep again.
As he held himself there, he stared down, his jaw twitching. “Most normal men would take care with you right now,” he said harshly. “Treat you with kid gloves, like a fragile piece of glass. But you don’t want that, do you, Angel? Even now you’re wanting more. You’re daring me to push you.”
She stared calmly at him, refusing to flinch or pull away. She needed air, but she also trusted him never to take it too far.
He eased back, his cock sliding over her tongue. A small surge of fluid spilled into her mouth. He was close. His entire body trembled. His knees shook against her hands, and she gripped him harder.
“Put your hands on my hips.”
She rose up further on her knees and pushed his jeans farther down until her hands met bare flesh. His cock jutted from the fly, hard and thick.
“Keep your hands there while I fuck your mouth. Don’t move. Just hang on.”
Again his hand tightened in the tangle of her hair, and he gave one sharp yank to position her the way he wanted her.
“Open,” he ordered.
She let her lips fall open and he was already there, pushing insistently. He pulled her forward to meet his thrust, until the coarse hair at his groin tickled her nose. It took every ounce of restraint she had not to fight, to struggle. In a way it was what he wanted her to do. She knew it.
He wanted to prove it was too much. He wanted her to say stop and to walk away. He had no idea just how strong her conviction was.
A sound of impatience escaped in a snarl. Her eyes flew open to stare up at him. There was a savagery that should have frightened her, but she knew he wasn’t angry with her. No, it was self-directed. He hated that he wanted her every bit as much as she wanted him. He hated that she wasn’t going to tell him no. He hated that she would take whatever he dished out and beg for more.
“Damn you,” he hissed.
He threw back his head, closing his eyes. His thrusts became desperate, almost brutal. His groin slapped against her mouth as she swallowed him whole.
The hand holding the back of her neck became gentle, almost coaxing. Her cheeks bulged with exertion as he tunneled deeper into her throat. Then he gripped her neck harder, forcing her onto his cock.
Fluid filled her mouth, warm and sticky. She swallowed around his cock, and he moaned and jerked erratically. More came and she swallowed reflexively, her throat working around the head of his cock.
He retreated momentarily, grasped the base of his cock and tilted her open mouth higher. He worked his hand back and forth over the thick shaft as more semen dripped from the tip and into her mouth.
He continued to stroke. “Keep your mouth open. That’s it, Angel girl.”
Two, three more gentle splatters fell onto her tongue and then his grasp loosened. Slowly he eased away from her, and he pulled at his jeans, working them back over his hips.
She knelt there, heaving for breath as she swallowed the last of his release. Her hands fell to the tops of her legs and she glanced down at her jeans that were trapped mid-thigh.
She glanced back up at Micah, seeking permission to rise, to reclothe herself.
After he’d straightened himself, he reached down, holding his hands out to her. She slid her fingers into his grasp and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
Gently, he pulled her jeans up until they were around her waist again. He refastened the fly, his gaze wandering lazily over her face. When he was done, he raised his thumb to her mouth and rubbed the pad over her bottom lip, capturing a drop of his cum.
“Lick it,” he said huskily.
She sucked slowly at the tip, running her tongue over the slip of moisture.
“You make me crazy, Angel girl.”
She laughed, surprised at the cracked way it came out. “What do you think you do to me?”
“Go pick out our room,” he said. “Strip. I want you naked and in bed when I get there. I’ll bring up a tray so you can eat before we go to sleep.”
CHAPTER 22
“Thate this,” Julie grumbled.
“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Faith said from her perch on the couch.
Serena turned from her position by the window. “How long are they going to be? Damon didn’t answer his cell phone and we haven’t heard from them in hours.”
“They’re probably figuring out a plan to keep us under lock and key for the next year,” Julie said glumly.
“You should move away from the window, Mrs. Roche,” Sam said from the doorway.
Serena sighed and walked over to the couch to sit by Faith.
Julie scowled. Damon’s hulking chauffeur had been tasked with babysitting the three of them for the day. What the hell kind of chauffeur was built like a tank?
The sound of the front door opening had all three women on their feet. Damon strode into the living room, Nathan and Gray on his heels.
“How is Angelina?” Julie asked anxiously. The men’s expressions were so grim that fear scuttled around her stomach.
“She’s safe,” Damon answered. Even as he spoke, he reached for Serena, and she went to him, melting into his embrace. “She’s with Micah.”
“You ready to go home?” Gray said to Faith.
She nodded readily and took the hand he extended to her.
“We’ll stay in touch. You all do the same,” Gray said as they headed for the door.
Julie glanced at Nathan, who stood silently to the side. The intensity in his gaze caused her to shiver. He looked positively ... scary.
“You have a choice,” Nathan said as he stalked into her space. “My place or yours.”
Too unsettled to think straight, she merely stared up at him, her brows furrowed.
“We can stay at your place or my place, but you don’t stay alone, so make your choice.”
She reached out to touch his chest, seeking reassurance. “Should I be worried?”
He caught her wrist, and surprisingly, his fingers trembled against her skin. He brought her hand to his lips and gently kissed her closed fist.