Read Online Hearts Under Siege by Natalie J. Damschroder - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Natalie J. Damschroder
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Romance, Mystery & Detective, romance series, entangled publishing, Natalie J. Damschroder, Hearts Under Siege
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Brady.”
It was exactly the right thing for her to say. He’d heard that word from her a million times, had laughed when she got her mouth washed out with soap for using it. But never had it had this effect on him. His cock pulsed and swelled and she shoved off his jeans and underwear, and then her own shorts and, Jesus, she was naked underneath. She fell backward onto the bed, pulling him on top of her, and for a split second, he almost lost himself and plunged into the hot wetness between her thighs. If he’d moved another inch, let his cock touch that slick heat, it would have been all over. But too many years of care stopped him.
“Condom,” he ground out, but couldn’t remember where or how to get one. Her breasts were too close, and he bent to lick her nipple, then bite when she arched and cried out. God, she tasted good. He feasted, vaguely aware that her body twisted under him, that she reached for something. There was a thud, something falling, but he didn’t care. Hell, forget condoms . He moved down her body, kissing and nipping her smooth abdomen, her hipbone, tongue to belly button, inhaling deep, savoring, craving. Another few inches, and there it was. He spread her thighs, lifted them over his shoulders, reveling in her cries as he tongued her. Her clit throbbed, swollen, and she shuddered with every stroke. She was close. He pressed a finger into her—God, she was tight, and she tightened even more, her body tensing, bowing. He lunged upward, needing to be inside her, and let out his own cry when Molly’s hand wrapped around him, squeezing. He dimly realized she’d found a condom, was rolling it onto him, the very act almost making him come.
The instant she released him he pushed inside her. She was so wet there was almost no resistance. Her body stroked him, accepted him. He thrust as deep as he could go, his whole body sighing in relief. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he slid one arm beneath her back to hold her close while he braced with the other arm, giving himself leverage to pull out, plunge in, and then he went insane with lust and need. He was lost in himself, lost in her, and all he could do was bury his face in her neck and thrust, over and over, until she screamed and closed around him, and he exploded into a million pieces, his yells mingling with her panting moans.
Fucking bliss.
He tried very, very hard to stay in that place, that floating mist of ecstasy, to avoid any hint of reality. Her hands stroked softly up and down his back, and just as he was about to admit to himself he couldn’t hide any longer, blackness descended.
Grateful, he let it carry him away.
Chapter Four
Brady fell into unconsciousness so abruptly Molly panicked, fumbling at his neck, trying to lift him enough to find his pulse or check to see if he was breathing. She shoved at his shoulders. His head and arms remained limp, but she felt a slight gust of breath against her cheek. He was alive. She relaxed a little, finding the pulse in his neck. The beat was normal, though still slightly fast from exertion. He was just exhausted, overwhelmed. She stroked her hand through his hair. Poor guy.
That was why he’d had sex with her, of course. She had no illusions about that. But lack of self-deception didn’t keep her from holding him close until his weight became too much. She shifted out from under him but stayed near, especially when he curled his arm around her waist. She closed her eyes, trying to succumb to her own exhaustion, but sleep eluded her. Too much swirled through her brain.
Mostly, it was a video of tomorrow morning’s conversation. More like Brady’s half of it. Because in her mind, it never changed, no matter what she said in her half. He was going to be appalled. He’d apologize over and over. Make a dozen excuses—over and over—that were meant to reassure her but would simply make her feel like shit. She desperately wanted to avoid all that, but had no idea how.
If he
It was exactly the right thing for her to say. He’d heard that word from her a million times, had laughed when she got her mouth washed out with soap for using it. But never had it had this effect on him. His cock pulsed and swelled and she shoved off his jeans and underwear, and then her own shorts and, Jesus, she was naked underneath. She fell backward onto the bed, pulling him on top of her, and for a split second, he almost lost himself and plunged into the hot wetness between her thighs. If he’d moved another inch, let his cock touch that slick heat, it would have been all over. But too many years of care stopped him.
“Condom,” he ground out, but couldn’t remember where or how to get one. Her breasts were too close, and he bent to lick her nipple, then bite when she arched and cried out. God, she tasted good. He feasted, vaguely aware that her body twisted under him, that she reached for something. There was a thud, something falling, but he didn’t care. Hell, forget condoms . He moved down her body, kissing and nipping her smooth abdomen, her hipbone, tongue to belly button, inhaling deep, savoring, craving. Another few inches, and there it was. He spread her thighs, lifted them over his shoulders, reveling in her cries as he tongued her. Her clit throbbed, swollen, and she shuddered with every stroke. She was close. He pressed a finger into her—God, she was tight, and she tightened even more, her body tensing, bowing. He lunged upward, needing to be inside her, and let out his own cry when Molly’s hand wrapped around him, squeezing. He dimly realized she’d found a condom, was rolling it onto him, the very act almost making him come.
The instant she released him he pushed inside her. She was so wet there was almost no resistance. Her body stroked him, accepted him. He thrust as deep as he could go, his whole body sighing in relief. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and he slid one arm beneath her back to hold her close while he braced with the other arm, giving himself leverage to pull out, plunge in, and then he went insane with lust and need. He was lost in himself, lost in her, and all he could do was bury his face in her neck and thrust, over and over, until she screamed and closed around him, and he exploded into a million pieces, his yells mingling with her panting moans.
Fucking bliss.
He tried very, very hard to stay in that place, that floating mist of ecstasy, to avoid any hint of reality. Her hands stroked softly up and down his back, and just as he was about to admit to himself he couldn’t hide any longer, blackness descended.
Grateful, he let it carry him away.
Chapter Four
Brady fell into unconsciousness so abruptly Molly panicked, fumbling at his neck, trying to lift him enough to find his pulse or check to see if he was breathing. She shoved at his shoulders. His head and arms remained limp, but she felt a slight gust of breath against her cheek. He was alive. She relaxed a little, finding the pulse in his neck. The beat was normal, though still slightly fast from exertion. He was just exhausted, overwhelmed. She stroked her hand through his hair. Poor guy.
That was why he’d had sex with her, of course. She had no illusions about that. But lack of self-deception didn’t keep her from holding him close until his weight became too much. She shifted out from under him but stayed near, especially when he curled his arm around her waist. She closed her eyes, trying to succumb to her own exhaustion, but sleep eluded her. Too much swirled through her brain.
Mostly, it was a video of tomorrow morning’s conversation. More like Brady’s half of it. Because in her mind, it never changed, no matter what she said in her half. He was going to be appalled. He’d apologize over and over. Make a dozen excuses—over and over—that were meant to reassure her but would simply make her feel like shit. She desperately wanted to avoid all that, but had no idea how.
If he
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