BuckingHard (9 page)

She took the belt from her mouth, lifted a hand to smooth
his hair from his eyes and cupped his jaw. The words were on the tip of her
tongue.
Love me. Please love me.
“Kiss me.”

With a growl, he gathered her in his arms and eased her
backward. His lips devoured her mouth. One hand cradled her head and tilted it
for the invasion of his tongue. His cock began a slow and steady thrust. The
aftershocks that had begun to dwindle sparked and the pressure of another
orgasm built.

Mason broke the kiss but held her tight, his hips pumping,
harder, faster. Each plunge ground her into the rock’s unrelenting surface.
She’d have bruises tomorrow but she didn’t care. The pain enhanced the pleasure
and drove her toward ecstasy.

“Come with me, baby,” he rasped.

“Almost there.” She grappled for the belt. “Need—”

He slapped the belt aside and pressed her face toward his
shoulder. “I’m all you need.”

Opening her mouth over his flexing muscle, she tasted the
salt of his skin just before the orgasm burst upon her.

He hissed as her teeth clamped tight. His hips jerked but
held the blissful rhythm. “Fuck, ah, yeah. Bite harder.”

She did and savored the slow lick of erotic flames that
consumed her entire body. That he welcomed the pain of her bite added to the
pleasure of his punishing thrusts. The searing ride began to ebb. He slammed
into her one last time and poured hot cum into the condom. Her pussy milked him
through the last exquisite convulsions.

A minute passed, his head resting beside hers. She licked
the bite marks on his shoulder and thanked god she hadn’t broken the skin. He
shuddered and his cock twitched.

Bradi wanted to laugh but she was on the verge of tears and
couldn’t be sure one wouldn’t lead to the other. He
got
her. Understood
her completely. No one ever had. Or ever would. Only Mason. She could have gone
the rest of her life without knowing that.

“I have to go.”
Before I do something stupid.
She
snorted. What could be more stupid than what she’d already done?

“I’m not finished.” His whispered words feathered the hair
at her temples as he raised his head to look at her.

She turned away. ”I’m pretty sure you did.”

He laughed. “I’m not talking about that.” His knuckles
skimmed her cheek. “I meant that I’m not finished telling you what I want.”

“Again, I’m pretty sure you just got it.”

He continued to stroke her face, brushing aside the strands
that had escaped her ponytail. She probably looked like shit.

“I want a lot of things from you, Bradi. We’ve only just
begun to scratch the surface. But I want to give you something too.”

“Not to repeat myself, but—”

“Shh.” He laid a finger over her lips. “I want to give you
more than just the pleasure of a good fuck.” He turned her head but she closed
her eyes. “Bradi, open your eyes.”

She couldn’t look at him. It would hurt too much.

“Bradi.” His voice was firm and determined. He wouldn’t let
her go until she did what he wanted.

“Fine.” She forced herself to meet his gaze and her stomach
flipped. She wasn’t prepared for the tenderness or the uncertainty swirling in
the brown depths.

“I want to give you my heart.”

His heart? The words floated past her ears but didn’t
register for several seconds.
His heart?

“It’s yours anyway. Always has been,” he went on. “I was
just too stupid to realize it.”

Her throat tightened, constricting the air in her lungs.
Tears stung the back of her eyelids. She searched his face for any hint of
teasing and found none.

“I love you, Bradi, and I don’t want you to go.” His smile
grew tentative. “But if you really want the PRCA job, if it’ll make you happy,
then that’s what I want too. I’m not asking you to choose between your career
and me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m just asking that when you’re done, you’ll
come home to me.”

She shook her head, unable to speak for the lump in her
throat. His smile wilted as a sob shook her. Tears leaked from the corners of
her eyes and into her ears. Was she dreaming?

“Ah, shit.” He straightened, pulling her with him, and his
cock slipped from her body. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He held her
tighter. “If I misread this, if I fucked everything up by not realizing until
now how you felt—how I feel—then I understand.”

She laughed, choked and laughed again, feeling hysteria
drawing near. She shoved his chest. “Stop telling me what I should and
shouldn’t do and ask me again what I want.”

“Okay.” He thumbed a stray tear from her cheek. “Bradi
Kincaid, what do you want?”

“The same thing I’ve always wanted. You, Mason Montgomery.
Only you.”

Also by
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