For Her Protection: An Alpha Romance Read online

  Connor followed her, leaned over her, tempted her with his closeness but only reached around her, grabbed the handle below the armrest and reclined the end of the sofa. She didn’t move, just let herself sink backwards until she lay almost straight.

  He stood, his hands moved to the hem of his shirt. Her gaze honed in on the patch of skin revealed at his waist. He swooped up the shirt and pulled it over his head.

  She clamped her thighs together and gripped the armrest. Dammit, he’d just ruined her for life. No shirtless man could ever compete with this. He looked as hard and masculine as he’d felt. His pecs were defined under a spattering of neat, dark hair that thinned and trailed beckoningly down his chest, over the ridges of his stomach then disappeared into the top of his sweatpants.

  God, it was all she could do not to rocket forward and attack his pants, reveal the trail’s destination. His hip flexors tightened when he moved, made her want to press her tongue to the hollow they created. Her thighs slickened.

  “Open, baby.”

  She blinked. An instruction, he wanted her legs open. If she’d been more in control, she may have resisted but she wanted to prove she could do what he asked. She shifted, parting her thighs slightly but not enough to let him see what he’d done to her.

  Connor grabbed her ankle and tugged her leg wider, exposing her dewy center. She gasped and watched him kneel on the edge of the sofa in the space he’d made between her thighs—watched his gaze trace her exposed sex. Her pussy responded to his attention, getting wetter under his gaze.

  “When I tell you to do something there will be no half doing it. Understand?”

  She closed her eyes and nodded.

  “Eyes on me, baby. Eyes always on me.”

  She opened them. He adjusted her thighs wider, bending her knees and resting her ankles on his hips. She reached to grab the hem of her shirt.

  “Don’t,” he growled. “One look at those tits and this will be over hard and fast. I want to have fun first.”

  Fun. Heat dripped over her skin. Fun for whom? For him or her? Because hard and fast sounded pretty freaking good right about now.

  She dropped her shirt and planted her hand back on the armrest.

  He touched her but not like she expected. With her knees high and open he spread her lips with his thumbs.

  “What a pretty pussy you have. You have no idea what I’m going to do to it do you?”

  She balled her fists as a tremor rolled through her. He opened her wider, eating her out with his gaze. Air caressed her pussy. It quivered, silently begging him to show her exactly what he planned to do. He moved, spreading her with one hand and sinking a finger deep into her with the other.

  Tension shot through her, and that tight, achy desire for more intensified. He stroked her gently then pushed in another, stretched her with the girth of his fingers. She shifted her hips, torn between a moment of pleasure and of something else.

  “Get used to it, baby, because this is nothing compared to what you’ve got coming.”

  He pressed up and she nearly flew off the couch. Raw sensation wracked her. She panted, hands moving to her hair.

  “Easy,” he whispered and rested his other hand on her abdomen, holding her in place. Then he moved again, moved with deliberate strokes, caressing her more intimately than should be possible. He started out slowly, pushing into her firmly then sliding back out. Bone-deep pleasure mounted with every movement. Then he changed tactics, as if what he’d just done to her had been only a warm up.

  He pressed down on her pubic bone and stroked her clit with his thumb, pushing higher and harder inside her. She grasped at her hair, her back arching, her chest heaving, her body humming. He thrust deep—fast—on a mission to destroy her with sex.

  Exquisite agony. The only words for it. Pleasure so bad it hurt. Like nothing she’d ever felt had been real until now.

  His thumb slid over and around her, intensifying every tightening pulse in her core. She tossed her head. Too much… Too much to process—too much to bear. She’d break. He jutted against that place, that place she hadn’t believed in but could not now deny.

  “Fuck, Connor, please.” Her voice grated strange and high pitched. Her shoulders trembled against leather.

  The fingers inside her gentled. No, that’s not what she needed. She wanted more, harder, his thumb moving faster—that’s what she needed.

  “No, baby, no coming yet. You’ve got to earn that.”

  His words were husky, almost as raw as she felt. He withdrew from her slowly. She cried out and tried to grasp his arm. He moved out of reach.

  She sagged against the sofa, fighting the urge to sob with need. Sweat gathered at her hairline.

  Then he did the one thing that could distract her from her own body.

  He revealed the rest of his.

  Connor removed his pants, kicked the pile of black fabric across the floor. Her labored breathing stilled and she snapped up straight. His hands rested by his sides. Next to…the hottest cock she’d ever seen.

  Her wet, aching pussy clenched.

  “Come here,” he instructed.

  He didn’t need to ask twice. She was on her knees in front of him. Reaching for that smooth, pink cock.

  He grasped the back of her hair, halting her. “No, baby, you get what I give you.” He gripped the base of his cock—so freaking perfect in its symmetry it should be patented. Thick shaft—thick enough it might just push the boundaries of comfort—and swollen, pink head. His cock called to her, made her want to take it into her body any way she could.

  “Mouth open.”

  She opened her lips and looked up at him. Dark blue veins corded their way up his arms. His jaw ticked. He couldn’t hide his arousal any more than he could hide the strength of his erection.

  He wanted her.

  She made him this way.

  His gaze locked on hers. “You’ll need to do better if you want me to feed you this cock.”

  She opened wider, stretched her tongue out. He groaned and guided the mushroomed head of his cock into her mouth. The silky skin of his crown slid across her tongue. The earthy taste of him made her tremble. He filled her mouth, made her stretch her jaw as he pushed deeper. He overwhelmed her. Hard flesh in her mouth, his taste, his scent—the intimate, musky scent of a man.

  She wrapped her lips around him and sucked hard. The grip in her hair became a caress, but he maintained control with his cock. Forced a little more of himself on her each time then took it away—only to give more—more cock, more of his salty skin and the distinct smell of him that enslaved her.

  Her hands roamed to his thighs, touching, stroking, and kneading her way closer to the hand he still used to hold himself. She wanted to be the one to hold him—to devour him—to make him feel.

  His fingers massaged her scalp. “That’s it, baby, suck me.”

  His heavy sack brushed her hand and she moved to it, cupping and measuring its weight in her palm. He groaned and thrust into her mouth, far enough to challenge her gag reflex. But she took him in, didn’t gag, forced her muscles to comply, take whatever he gave her. He grasped her hand and let it replace the one he’d used to hold his shaft, let her fingers curl around his girth then covered her hand with his. She stroked him with her fist while taking him with her mouth.

  Her fingers only held half of him. She squeezed her thighs and rocked her hips, her body responding to the idea of this great big thing inside her. It made sense he’d be big. No man strutted like he did without having the goods to back it up. And he had them, had enough to justify his arrogance and then some.

  She gasped when his cock left her lips, let air fill her lungs before she took him back in and pumped him firmly with her hand. Her chest burned, her jaw strained. Wanting him was an ache upon an ache. Like being addicted to something that hurts a little—worth the sting for the rush it delivers. That’s what Connor’s cock was like.

  His thigh stiffened under her free hand and he withdrew from her mouth
completely. She arched her neck and opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out as far as it would go for more.

  “Look at you.” Connor tugged on her hair and butted the tip of his dick against her tongue but didn’t feed it to her like she wanted. “Do you have any clue how fucking stunning you are?” He groaned and released her then tugged her up by the arm. “Shirt off now.”

  Her legs went weak on her but she did what he asked and pulled off her T-shirt and then her bra. Her breasts fell out, heavier than they’d ever been, nipples hard as stones. The skin across them tingled. He grabbed her breasts in his big hands, squeezed them, and rolled his thumbs over her nipples.

  Her head lulled back and his arm circled her waist, held her and she arched over the security of his embrace. His mouth closed over one ridged nipple, laving it with his tongue as his free hand tweaked the other. Pleasure shot between her legs and control swirled out of her grasp.

  The rough scrape of his whiskers against her skin added layer upon layer of sensation to what was already too much. He moved to the other breast and gave it equal attention, offering it a light nip with his teeth.

  “Oh god please, Connor,” she cried.

  Her legs gave way and he caught her then hoisted her over his shoulder. Her bare bottom stuck in the air, his hand resting on it.

  “Just remember you asked for this.” He smacked her ass-cheek hard enough to smart then rubbed the spot and carried her to her room.

  Her breasts wobbled against his back and blood rushed to her head, making it spin. He’d thrown her over his shoulder but she reveled in his barbaric behavior.

  Conan the fucking barbarian.

  He deposited her on the bed then climbed over her. Her heart beat so hard the sound rang in her ears. He pushed her thighs apart, dipped between them, covered her rigid clitoris with his tongue and worked it. Pleasure hazed her vision, doubled it until the room was only shadows and light. He drove two fingers into her. Her back arched off the bed. Too much… All the freaking teasing had heightened her sensitivity. She moaned breathlessly, sounding like someone else.

  He raised his face and swirled his fingers in her. “Don’t come yet.”

  She grasped the back of his head but his short hair provided little to grip as she urged him down.

  “I have to,” she screamed.

  He rose above her, grabbed the back of her knee and flipped her over. Her stomach hit the covers and her knees were knocked apart, her hips drawn back. He palmed her bottom, squeezed her cheeks then pressed one still-wet finger against her rear entrance. She jerked, clenched her cheeks and gasped. Her thigh muscles twitched, desperation shaking every cell. He circled her ass with his damp finger.

  “Who’s in charge, Charlie?”

  She panted and squirmed against his touch, both longing for and dreading what he’d do next. He pulsed his finger against her but did not enter. A taboo threat, a subtle promise of a different kind of pleasure—deeper control.

  “Who—tell me who.”

  His other hand delved under her and stroked her clit, pushing her to the sweet edge.

  “You, Connor, you’re in charge,” she gasped.

  He smacked her pussy softly. “And when will you come?”

  “When you tell me to,” she groaned.

  He leaned away from her but she stayed still, pressed her bottom back wantonly.

  “Protection, baby?”

  “The drawer,” she whispered and waited.

  The drawer creaked open and he pulled out the box of condoms. The freaking unopened box she’d never had the chance to use. But as with every task he tackled, Connor worked efficiently and the wrapper tore before she had to worry about the wait.

  His legs brushed the back of her thighs and she tilted her ass back against him. The head of his cock ran along her slit, up and over, nudging her and moving on.

  “Is this what you want, baby? Say you want me inside you.”

  “I want you in me, Connor.” She dropped her head onto her forearms and prayed she didn’t sound as desperate to him as she did in her own ears.

  He growled softly and turned her again, this time onto her back. She barely had a chance to blink and he was there—pushing his way into her.

  She gave a half-shout. He drove in hard, planted himself to his base then maneuvered her thighs. Her pussy spasmed around him, pleasure tinged with a burn. She’d known he was big, measured his thickness in her palm, between her lips—but this, him stretching her open, filling her so fully she barely dared to breathe—the strength of these sensations were something she couldn’t have expected.

  He stayed still, must have known she needed a chance to adjust to his intrusion. Pressure filled her abdomen, made her roll her hips. He touched every corner of her with his girth.

  “Now, baby. Now you can come—with me in you.”

  He withdrew, purposefully but with restraint, then surged back in. Her muscles tightened, she was so ready and his cock felt as if it was made to rock against her G-spot.

  Moisture flooded her and when he pulled out, he slid with ease. He went from restrained to unleashed, grasping her hips and tilting her center to him, pumping into her. She reached out and touched his abs, glorified in the ridged nuances flexing with each thrust. He scooped up her hands and pushed them over her head, driving into her savagely. She lay stretched out beneath him—could do nothing but surrender—give in completely. Let him fuck every thought out of her head, fuck every morsel of tension into a ball of electric energy that centered in her vagina.

  The grip on her wrists shifted and he grasped her jaw, covered her mouth with his and kissed her. His tongue stroked her mouth, filled it in the same delicious rhythm. He consumed her, from fingertips to toes. No escape. Kissing him, fucking him, breathing him in, and tasting him. Her vision splintered, her limbs twisted, an orgasm crashed over her. Pleasure exploded in waves, shook her in its thunderous fist.

  She moaned into his mouth, shuddered and convulsed. He ate her cries with his lips as if he could taste the flavor of her ecstasy. He took her harder, faster. Pumped into her until new tension buzzed through her core. He reached between them and touched her clit, forcing that tension into a sweeter sensation.

  The world narrowed, everything else slipping from importance. Nothing mattered except the energy between them. His gaze on her. He stroked her clit, using firm, quick strokes, matching the tempo of his cock. Another orgasm gripped her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

  She shook and tasted the scent of soap on his body mingled with the tang of sweat. He groaned and pushed home, his cock butted her tender cervix as he came. He collapsed on top of her, his hips still rocking, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from her.

  Finally he stilled but remained inside her. He rolled them onto their side and pulled her thigh over his hip to hold her close. He breathed into her hair, arms wrapped around her, stroked her from shoulder to hip. Tenderness wormed its way inside her chest, made her believe life had just changed. He hadn’t lied.

  She was his.

  Connor rubbed his cheek against the silkiness of her hair. He could live to be a thousand and he would always remember the feel of it against his skin—the soft, feminine scent. Like something he could eat—a cupcake…vanilla frosting.

  Charlie curled into him, stroking her fingertips over his collarbone. He knew why. She couldn’t stop touching him just as he couldn’t stop touching her.

  Taking her hadn’t quelled his desire for her, only hooked him on her sensuous brand of love.

  This created a problem. Because now sex wasn’t enough. He wanted all of her—every single stubborn, sexy bit. Yeah, he wanted to fuck her in the worst way, in every place a woman could be fucked. No barriers, no limits, he’d take everything. But worse he wanted her close—only a breath away from him. Not to protect her, but because he craved her presence, because now something deeper tethered him to her.

  She snuggled closer and her soft breast grazed
his chest. He ignored the way his cock, still buried in her, stirred. Having her again so soon would only hurt her. He smiled into her hair.

  He’d give her a few hours.

  Charlie lifted her head and gazed at him. Her eyes hit him like they did that first time, warm and golden, but this time they were truly open.

  He smiled and touched her chin dimple with his thumb. She smiled back, a fucking sweet smile that winded him. She looked as if she’d lost five years…so damn young and pretty.

  But then he knew this would happen, knew she’d be sugar underneath all her resistance. And that hidden sweetness had turned the dirtiest fucking of his life into the most intimate.

  “I’ve been wondering…,” she said, her smile twisting mischievously. “What would you have done if I’d demanded to be in control?”

  Connor raised a brow but couldn’t help mirroring her grin. “I’d have let you think you were.”

  “So you’d have done whatever I said?” She trailed her fingers over his shoulder and tilted her face, looking up at him from under lowered lashes.

  He caught her hand and brought her fingers to his lips, nipping the tip of one. “Did it look like I have a problem eating pussy?”

  Charlie tugged her hand away and slapped his arm gently. “Is that as creative as you think I am?”

  Connor chuckled and shrugged. Fuck no, but teasing her was too fun to resist.

  She looked at him all big eyed and innocent. “How do you know I wouldn’t have rimmed your ass?”

  Connor’s jaw slacked. The cheeky little minx. Like hell she’d touch his ass but if that’s how she wanted to play it…

  He grabbed the thigh still tucked over his hip and rolled onto her. His cock had been hard again before he’d rolled them, now there was no suppressing his renewed hunger. He slid his hand between their joined bodies and cupped her ass. Her sweet, round ass.

  “Did you like that, baby? Is that what you want—more ass play?”

  He looked down at her. Her mouth opened slightly, wild strands of hair escaped her braid, her cheeks red, her eyes wide. Something in her expression stopped him. Not the hint of embarrassment but rather the way her features softened.