Chapter 5

ChapterFive

Shiloh

Turns out,it’s not easy to sleep when there is a certifiably hot, time-traveling chauvinist sitting in your living room asking Siri intimate questions.

“Siri, how do I make my beautiful future wife have an orgasm?”

“How long does it take a woman to have an orgasm?”

“Why in Jesus’ holy name does it take so long for a woman to have an orgasm?”

After a while, he gets more specific and I start to squirm in the sheets, before I eventually get too warm and kick them off entirely, staring at the light bleeding in around the edges of my bedroom door.

“Siri, why can’t I say the word ‘whore’ anymore?”

“How should I speak to the girl I want to marry?”

“Talk to me about foreplay. Never heard of her.”

“What’s the best way to give a woman oral sex?”

A fine dew is beginning to break out along my skin, my chest rising high and dipping down, up and down, in a quick pattern. I told myself I wasn’t going to wait up for him. I reminded myself a dozen times that I’m not obligated to have sex with this incredibly attractive man with the filthy mouth. But as I lie there in the darkness and my panties grow wetter over the deep rasp of his voice, the sexual nature of his questions, I finally admit to myself that I…want to sleep with Blaste.

No, I need to.

I was right to stand my ground and demand more from him, but I can’t pretend I’m not dying to feel his body on top of mine, between my legs. That I’m not aching for more kisses, more strokes of his hands on my thighs, his deep drawl in my ear.

Sitting up on the mattress, I pad as quietly as possible to the door and unlock it. Then I strip off my tank top, leaving me naked, save a pair of black panties. I lie back down in bed, on my stomach this time, and position myself to look tempting. I bend my left leg, separating it from my right. I tilt my hips. I tug my panties into more of a thong shape, expose the roundness of my cheeks. And for some reason, all of this work I’m doing to appear tempting to Blaste turns me on and I find myself pressing my hips down against the mattress, rocking my lower body, letting out gusts of breath into my pillow.

I’ve never really felt sexy like this. I wasn’t one of the desirable or popular girls at school. After the Incident during freshman year, I kept my head down, stayed hidden in oversized sweatshirts and behind books. Boys didn’t talk to me, unless they needed to ask me a homework question or to copy my notes. Or to say something cruel and untrue.

Blaste’s attraction to me is genuine. Mine is the same for him.

That makes saying yes right.

Until I hear Blaste set down my phone on the coffee table and stand up, his footsteps creaking the floorboards on his way toward the bedroom, it doesn’t occur to me that I don’t know how to please a man. And that maybe I could have benefitted from a Siri session myself.

“Whoops,” I whisper into my pillow.

The doorknob turns. Muted light spreads over the bed and I squeeze my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. I’m able to keep my breathing even right up until the moment he groans and curses—and I hear his towel hit the floor. That’s when my breathing turns erratic, my heart bouncing around in my ribcage, fingers digging into the fitted sheet.

“I see you’re awake, sugar. And I know you unlocked this door for a reason.”

The end of the mattress dips, the springs protesting his weight as he crawls over me slowly. Having my eyes closed while his warm breath travels up my spine is almost sensory overload and that’s before his open lips begin tracing the slope of my shoulders, his lap pressing down on the rounded hill of my bottom, grinding on me just enough to be not enough.

“All right, Shiloh,” he says thickly against my ear. “Thank you for making me do that. I don’t think it occurred to me…well, I guess I wasn’t taught right. About what you need. Now that I know, I would rather die than not give it to you. I’m going to take real good care of your pussy now, sugar, you can trust me on that.” He closes his teeth around my ear and bites down, dropping his lap fully against my backside. Gravity pushes all his weight down on top of me, forcing a gasp from my mouth, causing my eyes to fly open. “But let’s get one thing straight, all right? I’m a man. I’m a provider, a protector and oftentimes an animal. Sometimes I’m going to come home after a hard day’s work and I’m going to rail you on the front porch like a little slut. Then I’m going to want dinner. I’ll lick your pussy and tell you you’re fucking beautiful, because God knows you are. Hell, I’ll sit you on my lap and spoon feed you supper if you’re too tired from taking my cock to lift your arms, but dammit, you’re going to meet me halfway.” He slides a hand beneath me, down the front of my panties and he grips my sex in a calloused hand, making me cry out. “I don’t know what kind of whipped-ass mama’s boys you’ve got living in this century, but I ain’t one of them. I’m hard. I’m traditional. But you’re going to be so safe and satisfied with me, you won’t care. Do we have an understanding?”

Before I can answer, he slides his middle finger inside of me, pushing it deep, so deep, and I expect it to hurt, but it doesn’t. Maybe because I’m so wet? And my voice catches on a whimper when he adds his ring finger, pumping in and out once, twice, his thickness growing between the split of my bottom.

“I said…” He presses those digits in deep, until I’m trembling from the incredible pressure. “Do we have an understanding, Shiloh?”

“Yes,” I cry out.

Because nothing I’ve read or been told matters in this moment. It’s the basest, most elemental part of myself responding. I want to be an object of this man’s lust. I want to be the one who feeds him, physically, emotionally. In all ways. It’s my job. Mine. And I need to start now. I need to feel him use me and treat me like his female and nothing more. It is what it is. I’m not going to give up the ground I’ve gained, but I’m going to lose some as well in order to fulfill some part of me I didn’t know existed. To fulfill him, at the same time.

So be it.

“Yes,” I say again, clutching at the mattress.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls into my neck, yanking down my panties with impatient hands. All the way to my knees when I clumsily toe them off. “Now turn over and spread your legs. Let’s see what I learned.”

Self-consciousness tries to snare me in its trap, because I’ve never been intimate with a man and suddenly here I am, in the deep end, but Blaste doesn’t wait for me to make the move. No, he flips me over and—

Oh.

Oh, my goodness gracious.

He’s backlit by the hallway light, the front of his impressive physique kissed by shadows and there are mountains and valleys everywhere. Rough cut, ranching muscles. His eyes are loaded down with immense hunger, as if I need further proof when his shaft is standing straight up, curved and broad against his drum-tight abdomen.

My legs just sort of spread themselves.

“Son of a bitch, sugar, you would bring a man through space and time, wouldn’t you? Wet, sexy little thing with those big, innocent eyes. I’m about to make you fucking shake.” He leans down and spits on my sex, rubbing his saliva through my flesh with his thumb, his eyes glittering with lust while he follows the path of his handiwork. “A woman needs to be good and soaked. That’s the first thing I learned. Then I read about all the ways to do it. Going to lick your cunt like it’s a scoop of strawberry ice cream.”

Those two magical fingers are back inside of me, delving in and out while Blaste gets down on his stomach, kissing my inner thighs, my stomach, nibbling on my hips. My toes are extended and digging into the mattress, my fingers reaching for his hair, gripping, my breath having almost fully vacated my lungs by the time he actually settles his lips over my clitoris and begins massaging me there. Slowly. Lightly.

He does this for long, unhurried minutes while I begin to breathe faster and faster.

My breasts heave, nipples pebbling painfully.

“Nice and easy,” he whispers against my flesh. “That’s how it’s done, huh?”

“Yes,” I pant. “Yes.”

His thumbs dig gently into my inner thighs, his breath hot and eager, his hips restless against the bed. “Going to treat this little bud so damn well that when I slap your ass and ask for a blow job, you’ll kneel down in front of me with your fucking tongue out.”

All right, now I…I have to slap him across the face again. Don’t I?

Yes. I will. In a second.

But right now, he’s flattening his tongue over that sensitive nub and polishing it with quick, quick, quick licks that increase with pressure. Such perfect pressure that I yank on his hair and arch my back, panting, looking at the ceiling in awe but not really seeing it. I’m not seeing anything but stars. Oh…oh God, what is that drawing feeling in my belly? It’s a gathering. A terrible pull. A spasm of muscles that grows in intensity and I will die if I don’t get to the other side of it. I know it’s an orgasm. I thought I’d given myself one before, but it didn’t feel like this. Mine was a mouse squeak and this is a lion’s roar.

“Goddamn. I can actually feel it happening.” He looks up at me, his eyes heavy with lust and he licks me faster, faster, adding his fingers now. Sliding them so deep, holding them there while he pays explicit attention to my clit, rubbing and circling and making love to it like it’s the center of his universe and when he sucks it gently, I simply self-destruct, a scream blasting out of me, a warm, wild rapid of pleasure rushing through my body, tightening my muscles like shoelaces and wracking me with shudders. It’s a violently beautiful sensation that renders me temporarily blind, throat aching, body straining in an arch.

When I’m able to see again, Blaste is looming above me in the darkness, hair mussed, mouth wet, his chest huffing up and down and he’s watching me in awe, his right hand framing my jaw, his big hips settling in between my thighs.

“Incredible creature,” he mutters, leaning down to drag his tongue over my stiff nipples, right then left, before his mouth travels to my neck, kissing and sucking beneath my ear, breath heavy, quick. I can feel his hand between my legs, this big, smooth crown of his sex stretching my entrance. “My turn, sugar. It’s going to be a lot rougher than yours.”

“O-okay.”

He spits on his right hand, bringing it back to his shaft to lubricate it even more. “Made you come, now you’re going to spread your legs and do the same for me, ain’t that right?”

I nod, dropping my knees open just in time for him to attack my mouth in a provocative kiss, his tongue stroking into my mouth while he rocks, rocks, pushes into me, his guttural growl reverberating through my entire body, the oxygen stolen from my lungs by the sheer pressure of him fitting himself inside of me. And sparks go off in front of my eyes, my limbs tingling, warmth pressing in around my skull. I swear the room lights up around us in a purple glow and emotion swerves out of nowhere into my chest. Heavy, so heavy.

It’s a collision between past and future. A fulfilment of fates.

And we’re in the tempestuous center of it all. Our bodies. Our hearts.

“Blaste,” I whimper, finding him looking into my eyes with an identical expression.

Shock. Wonder. Gratitude. Affection.

Something slips down my temples and I realize it’s tears.

“I feel it, Shiloh,” he half-gasps, aligning our chests, his forehead on top of mine. “Shhh, baby, I found you. I found you and I’m never letting you go.” He settles his fist on the pillow beside my head, his mouth falling open on a moan as he begins to rock in and out of me, filling me with slow grinds while we inhale and exhale jaggedly against one another’s mouths. “Does it hurt? It must hurt. You’re such a tight fucking squeeze, sugar. I can barely get my cock out far enough to push it back in.”

“Sorry, sorry…”

“You’re sorry?” His drives pick up. Faster. Our flesh beginning to slap together. His groan is so rife with starvation, enjoyment, lust, that it sends a thrill coursing through my body. “Shiloh, you spread your legs like a slut, but you’re tight as a keyhole. Believe me, you’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I’m going to guard this wet little cunt with a fucking shotgun.”

Those filthy words cause a definite twist deep in my belly. They make me wetter. They make me pulse. I can’t explain why and I don’t really want to know. I just want to lay there and take his treatment like a good girl. Satisfy him. It’s a drive, a compelling need. Once again, it just is. And giving myself permission to enjoy his coarse speech, the aggression of his body, it transforms me into a person I didn’t know was hiding beneath the surface.

“Harder,” I whine, flexing my core. “Harder.”

His teeth flash above me. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.”

Both of his hands wrap around my throat, grip firm, and he begins to take me with unleashed fury. Frustrated male violence. He chokes me tenderly while he slams me with his hips, his huge erection finding its home over and over again between my thighs, while he chants curse words into the cool air. Sweat drips from his forehead and chest onto my breasts and tummy while he takes me, fucking me furiously with his lips peeled back in a snarl. The bedsprings creak wildly, his grunts like a mating call from deep in the wilderness. And I lie flattened between this commanding male and the mattress, being used like a rag doll…and somehow the pleasure is unimaginable. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. I don’t have to be anything right now but an object of pleasure. Somehow there has never been anything more freeing. All I can do is focus on what’s being inflicted on my body. Absorb and enjoy it.

And I do.

Oh my God, I do.

Lying in this position, foreheads together, the entire lengths of our bodies touching, his shaft is thrust into me from a breathtaking angle. My clit remains swollen from his mouth and his thick sex rubs against it now, relentlessly, wetly.

“Son of a bitch,” he breathes into my mouth. “You’re getting tighter.”

A sob breaks past my lips. “It’s happening again…”

“You’re coming?” Looking me in the eye, his hips move impossibly faster, bouncing the headboard off the wall, rattling a scream out of my throat. “The phone said women don’t usually come when they’re getting fucked like this.” He nips at my open mouth, growling. “Of course, you’re the exception to the rule, though, huh? You make me do homework before I bang you, then you come twice like a horny brat, opening your legs wide when I tell you to. It was all women’s rights and a prissy attitude until I got my cock out, wasn’t it, sugar?”

I babble a response, but I don’t even know what it is.

I’m being taken so hard, it’s a wonder my rickety bed hasn’t broken yet.

He’s on top of me, sweating and pumping, our bodies connecting furiously, my body being driven several inches up the bed with every drive. I’m a slut. I’m just a dirty little slut who has been waiting for the right man to bring it out of me—and he’s the only one I’ll ever open my legs for, so I give him everything I have, lifting my hips to meet his uncontrolled thrusts, I cinch my intimate muscles up around him and baby talk his name, lights flaring in front of my eyes when the second orgasm crests over me.

“Blaste,” I moan, nails digging into his back, scraping down to his round, flexing buttocks. Burying deep and yanking him home one final time, because I’m somehow already very attuned to this man and know when he’s reaching the end of his rope—and I’m right.

He makes a choked sound and shoves my knees up to my shoulders, ramming deep one final time and bellowing loud enough to be heard on the other side of Kentucky. God help me, I smile as it happens, because it’s such an incredible sight, this burly alpha male brought to his knees by the space between my thighs, drawn down to his weakest state, a shaking mass of nerve endings and muscle. A victim of lust.

“Oh. Oh fuck!” He rears back and drives deep one last time, bending me in half while his body empties of frustration, his balls flexing against the curve of my bottom, the seed being pumped out, spurt by spurt, every single one of them causing him to wince in pain and pleasure. “Pussy’s so small I could fill it up ten times,” he gasps, shuddering, his entire body strained. “God, I want to get my come in and on every inch of what’s mine. You’re mine, Shiloh, is that fucking clear?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

One final spasm of his stomach and he falls on top of me, panting into my hair, our bodies slick with sweat as we hold each other. He kisses my forehead, strokes my hair and tells me I’m beautiful. He tells me he only wants one woman as long as he lives: me. He vows to protect me and give me a life where I want for nothing. And I understand now, the tradeoff we’ll have. I’ll push to make Blaste more forward thinking, more aware of my physical needs and emotions as a modern-day woman. But once we’re in bed, there are no rules to dictate his or my behavior. We’re just…animals.

I get up and make him a sandwich.

But he sits me in his lap and feeds me half of it, holding me like a treasure while we sleep.