Saved by a Dangerous Man

By: Cleo Peitsche

“Fucking… fucking… so… hot,” I gasped between his thrusts, giving my mouth something to say that wouldn’t embarrass us both.

Corbin’s response was that familiar palm over my mouth. I arched up and finally let myself go, not worried about making too much noise.

Very far away, the doorbell rang. Corbin’s hand clamped tighter, but he needn’t have worried; I didn’t have the self-discipline to stop him, not when my body again hurtled toward the precipice of the bliss that Corbin never failed to deliver.

His finger honed in on my clit, and he rubbed me as he pummeled my tight hole. My pathetic bed squeaked for mercy. I was arched so far back that I could see more of the headboard than the ceiling, and every inch of me vibrated with tension.

My spine ached, and I knew my constricted knees and ankles might not be happy with me later. But what was later except an abstraction? Something that might not ever arrive. Only the moment mattered: Corbin’s broad shoulders and muscled chest flexing as he braced over me, his focused gaze fixed on my eyes as he fucked me. His face, angular, virile, and intense, twisted with pleasure and determination. His fingers swirled, I came again. With each churning thrust of his hips, a growl escaped his gritted teeth, his grunts almost eclipsing my shrieking cheap mattress.

Just when I’d adjusted to the assault, he slowed, pulling all the way out and then filling me again. My pussy, dripping by then, accepted him easily. He came down on one elbow and swiped his tongue over my mouth. His free hand roamed under my shirt until his fingers tugged at my nipple while my breast filled his palm.

I heard the front door open slowly, and I went stiff.

“There’s time.” Corbin’s hand moved from my breast back to my slippery skin, stretched to accommodate his substantial girth. He rubbed two fingers over my clit, his movements precise and effective. He’d gone still, too, his cock buried inside me, the bed silent.

Henry tentatively called out my name, then the front door closed again. I didn’t hear the footsteps, but the squealing wooden floor near the entry told me that Henry was inside, though not moving deeper into the apartment.

“Come for me,” Corbin whispered. The glimmer in his eyes was dangerous, I knew. If I resisted, he would push me until I either accepted or used my safe word.

My body softened, tightened, yielded again.

“Like this.” His voice was a low growl. “Now.”

Maybe he couldn’t order me to stay in town or quit my job and be a sanctioned outlaw with him, but in the bedroom, he’d won the loyalty of my pleasure-seeking body. Here, he was king, by right and by might.

I became a thrashing, sweating animal. Bit my lip so hard that I should have tasted blood. This was how Corbin imprinted himself on me, by wetly licking my mouth, displacing the rest of the world with his taste and scent while I crested on a tsunami of bliss.

But when I crashed… Even before the final shudders had passed, panic invaded. So much for the afterglow. Sad. With Corbin, I actually liked that part. He pulled his cock from my still-clenching sex. He was huge and swollen, so unsatisfied. He got up and slammed my bedroom door closed, rested his weight against it, his expression neutral.

Relieved, I smiled my thanks. “Henry, I’m almost done,” I called out. The moment I said Henry’s name, darkness shuttered Corbin’s face. And Corbin didn’t even know about the kiss.

“Your door wasn’t locked… just need to use your bathroom,” Henry yelled. “Butch and I split a pot of coffee an hour ago. Should have abstained.”

“It’s the door just before the kitchen. I’m… had to change my clothes.” Talking to Henry with my pants down around my knees just felt wrong. I stood up and made myself decent.

“Think I found it. Take your time,” Henry said. The bathroom door opened and closed.

“How generous of him,” Corbin growled, murder in his eyes. Except… that wasn’t an idle observation when it came to Corbin. A shudder crawled down my spine. “I don’t appreciate the way he just walked in here,” he said.

I agreed with that, but no good would come of saying so. “It’s not a big deal,” I whispered hoarsely.

Top Books