Heston (In the Company of Snipers #25)

Chapter Thirty-Six

London was on her back. She stretched both arms over her head and grabbed the slats in Heston’s headboard because he told her to. She enjoyed him being bossy in bed. There was a definite submissive streak she hadn’t admitted to before, although he’d probably guessed, given how often he’d spanked her. Playfully, she reminded herself. Not hard. Never just for the sake of pain. Mostly for stimulation. Heston was always careful with her, always tender, even when they got rowdy. Still…

Knowing that didn’t squelch the panic simmering at the back of her mind.

His chest was on her belly, and his long, hairy legs were nestled between her bent knees. He’d sucked one nipple into his mouth, the other was caught between his thumb and finger, getting pinched and rolled. This man was taking his time. His talented fingers had already lit the invisible line of det cord between her nipples and core. If he kept doing what he was doing with his oh, so warm mouth on her breast, she might—

“Hes-s-s-s-s…” she hissed as lift-off commenced.

With both hands in his hair, she pulled his head closer and shoved her wet nipple farther into his mouth. Lust and desire. Fingers and mouth. That was all he’d touched her with so far. She’d never climaxed without him coming with her. Probably because he was her one and only. She didn’t want to now. But he was in charge, and he was playing her body like a musical instrument with legs.

Both breasts heaved as her second orgasm rocketed through her, leaving effervescent trails of aftershocks up her spine, throughout her bloodstream, hell, everywhere. There wasn’t one molecule in her body not bubbling when he pulled back and blew a warm breath over her wet nipples. Both ached so much that they, in turn, recharged that invisible det cord. That single puff from his mouth turned her nipples cold, and along with the cold, they reverted into wanton, naughty school girls. And…

Again? Not physically possible. Not this soon. Three would be an all-time record.

Heston nuzzled his warm face between her breasts while those greedy diamond tips cooled. Before what… what had happened in the forest… she didn’t yet know how to safely reference— that —without getting rattled. She’d never speak the names associated with that terror again. Not ever. There was a time she might’ve been brave enough to face anything life threw at her, just not— that.

“Hey,” Heston murmured, his elbows planted in the mattress above her shoulders, his arms alongside her head, and his fingers in her hair. “Where’d you go?”

London blinked up into his ruggedly handsome face, at the tenderness glistening in his dark brown eyes. She’d lost track of him and where they were for a moment. Damned panic was a stubborn bitch, and that bitch was right then pounding a noisy drum in her head, as if it had complete control. Irrational fear gripped her throat just like… h-he had. H-him. The bastard who tried to kill her. R-rape her.

Heston might’ve gotten too close, too soon. A headache loomed. Flashbacks blinded her view of the man at the end of her nose. All she could see was… then. That ugly man. Him. What almost happened then. How utterly helpless she’d been. How frightened and horrified.

There would be no third orgasm.

Heston bowed his forehead to her breasts and whispered, “Nice and slow, babe. I’ve got you now. It’s just you and me until the end of time. I’m here and I’m not leaving. Breathe for me.”

Unable to answer, she did as he asked, just dropped her nose into his hair and inhaled the comforting scent of his scalp, his shampoo, and the raw masculinity that was her man into her soul. Her man, damn it. It was Heston who was there with her. No one else. He’d never left her, and she’d never, ever leave him again. He wasn’t ever too rough. If anything, he was being too gentle with her. And that was good, but it also made everything worse. She knew why. He didn’t want to set off any triggers, and man, did she have triggers. This wasn’t them being them. They weren’t okay yet. Not by a longshot. And yet…

The scent of him in her nostrils quelled the raging thunderclouds building in her head. She inhaled deeper, drawing in every last sensation of comfort. The slightest hint of his sweat. The masculine scent of his shampoo. The scrub of his scruff abrading her tender nipples. Heston had always been good enough to eat, and this time, now, suddenly, inhaling him was the same as inhaling life. Their life. London desperately wanted back the life they’d had before. She wanted to be carefree and confident again. If only she could get over the mountain of doubt in her way.

“You have goosebumps,” Heston whispered. “You’re shivering.” He rolled to her side and had her bundled inside the blanket and facing him in no time.

“I’m… I’m…” Speechless? Scared I’ll never recover? That I’ll always remember? That Kelsey’s wrong and there will never, ever be anything easy between me and Heston again?

Fighting for control, London reached a nervous hand down past Heston’s belly, through those crisp, curly hairs to—there. Right there. “Now I… I have you.” If only her voice hadn’t quavered. Sheesh! She wanted so badly to get back to who she used to be, not the weakling who’d taken her place.

He flexed his abdomen to give her hand more room. “Are you sure you want more? I’m good with—”

“Yes, Hes. Not just more. I want us to do everything we used to do. Don’t hold back. Please, I need us to be us again.”

“Okay, but let’s take it slow. How about we go for three?”

“Three times?” London would’ve laughed if he hadn’t pushed to his knees, thrust his hips forward and—slid deliciously into her. She growled at the stretch of his friendly invasion. Of the girth. The depth.

Heston could’ve been one of those high-priced male escorts, at the least, a male model in those high-priced men’s magazine. He had the sexy, dark looks women swooned over, and his toned, bronze body was made to be adored. But he was all hers and he had a nice long reach. Right then, he was hitting all the best ridges inside of her. Her body clenched at the possibility he’d created. Three orgasms? Unbelievable. But worth trying.

London squirmed beneath him, focused on the mantra that if she believed it, she could be it. Confident. Sassy. Not scared. Not hesitant. “Yes. There. Hes… Yes. There. Ahhh…”

Let those stupid swooning women suffer. Heston Contreras was all hers.

“Legs around me, babe,” he ordered. “You know what I like.”

Oh, yeah. As quickly as London wrapped her legs around his hips, Heston slid both manly hands under her butt and tilted the lower part of her body upward. His hair flopped over his forehead and the tenderest smile graced his rugged face as he looked down at her. Even after all this time, after what she’d done to him, he still loved her. He’d been faithful when she hadn’t. He’d searched for her when she’d deserted him. How could she ever make up for that?

“You’re thinking too hard. You’re too much in your head. Stop it, babe. Look at me. It’s just you and me in this bed. Just feel. That’s all you need to do right now. Feel,” he said as he thrust that magnificent cock into her, then ground himself in deeper. “Just know I’ll always love you.”

London kept her eyes on him, and sure enough, the rest of the world fell away. It was just Heston and her in this time and this place. She hadn’t noticed how or when it happened. He’d distracted her.

“Know how much I love you,” he said, softly pulling out, then sliding back in just as softly. “With every beat of my heart, babe.” Those manly hips moved forward again and again. “With all of me. My heart. My soul.” In and out. “Never doubt us.” And again. “We belong together. Just you and me, London. Just us.”

“I do know that,” she breathed.

“I don’t think you do,” he grunted, setting a sensual rhythm as old as time. Rocking gently into her. Pulling out just far enough to tease and make her body miss his. With every stroke of his rock-solid cock against her inner walls, with every backward glide and forward thrust, Heston was unlocking the door to them—only them.

“Forgive and forget,” he ordered. “Our bed. Our home. Our life.”

She didn’t get the chance to answer before he slid home again, so, so deep. She closed her eyes. Heston and she were here . They were now . Only them. Sweating and earnestly striving to stay together—as one. Locked in each other’s arms forever.

London was afraid to blink. If she did, her nearly overflowing tears would stream down her temples, and Heston would stop, and—

His forehead dropped to hers, which meant he’d seen and now he’d back off. But he didn’t. Instead, Heston took her mouth by storm, kissed her long, hard, and thoroughly. They breathed the same air. He feasted on her lips and tongue and… gradually, the fear that had interfered with their pleasure subsided. Heston was right. All she had to do was focus on the feel of his muscular thighs flush against her backside and his cock, hot and thick, inside.

A voracious hunger flared for this man. For his heart. Her body knew his, and right then, his body was keeping her soul alive.

Fireworks crackled with heat. The rub. The friction! London squeezed her eyes shut as pure, hedonistic pleasure rolled up her spine. The fierce masculinity Heston offered was her undoing. She crashed, just fell into the moment and came in a blinding white light. A new life. A new beginning. Together. There was nothing else worth chasing or remembering. Nothing but… this. Just them.

They were going to make it.

“Three!” Heston huffed triumphantly.

Dazed, London opened her eyes. Her breath caught at the sight of the man crouched between her legs. Dark, shiny hair hung into his eyes. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his brow as he chased his release. He hadn’t found his release yet, but he was hilt deep and pushing deeper, the veins on his lower abdomen dark and pronounced, his callused fingertips digging into her butt cheeks. Heston owned her and that was everything she’d ever wanted.

At last, London understood what Heston Contreras owning her meant. Not servitude. Not domination or that he thought he was better and smarter than her. Not this man. All London saw was Heston’s unadulterated adoration of her. This was him worshipping her body and loving her as a woman. His woman.

Heston withdrew gently, then slammed home, making her very feminine boobs bounce and her too-big womanly ass jiggle. He spread his much larger, harder body over hers, leaned forward and, still cupping her butt, he took her mouth sweetly. Earnestly.

Heat speared her body. Her toes curled. The erotic sounds of steaming hot male flesh slapping wanton female flesh was the music her heart needed. She loved giving herself to Heston. Always had. Wanted so badly for him to come with her. This would make four—for her. The first for him. The knowledge that he’d held back to satisfy her was too much.

“We’re going to make it, Hes,” London whispered, listening to the music of her man’s body loving hers.

Heston Contreras was magnificent. He was darkness, but he was also light. Her light. The epitome of strength, but also gentle. Best of all—he was here and he was hers. His pace quickened. He knew what he was doing. With his fingertips digging into her hips, he slammed forward. Tilting his chin upward, he stilled, then roared his release to the ceiling.

He was planted so deep, London wasn’t sure where his body ended and hers began. They were both humming the same melody of sex. Of love.

The pad of his thumb traced the sweaty crease where their bodies were joined. “What a view,” he panted. His warm hands smoothed beneath her, gently mapping the curves of her butt. “This pretty ass is mine, London. All mine. So you need to get over yourself. Because, where this ass goes, I will always follow.” He landed a soft smack to her hip.

That love tap was precisely what she wanted. His hands on her again. In love and in play. That was all those play spankings had ever been about. Not pain. Just them playing. Like naughty kids.

With a grumbly grunt, Heston rolled to his side and took her with him. They settled with their legs tangled, her back to his front, both of them warm and satisfied. Sated.

London pressed her backside against his pelvis, needing to stay as close as she could to the man who’d brought her back to the land of the living. Heston reached down and pulled the sheet over them. She snuggled deeper into the protective curve of his body, loving the smell of his sheets and the scent of sex in the room.

“I’ve always loved you, London,” he rumbled in her ear, easing one arm beneath her neck and the other over her chest and between her breasts.

Her first inclination was to tell him again how sorry she was, but London resisted. Instead, she gave Heston the same thing she needed to heal. “I’ll always love you. Thanks for having my back.”

She could feel his lips curl into a smile in the crook of her neck. “I have your front, too, babe.” He tweaked her nipple to prove it.

That did it. London felt it coming. Knew it was probably inappropriate but did it anyway. She tipped her head onto his broad shoulder and—she laughed. Giggled like she used to after she came, back when they were still new and everything was perfect. Because everything was perfect again.

“That’s my girl!” Heston exclaimed happily, nuzzling his nose into her hair. “I knew you had it in you.”

Crazy man. What he said. How he said it. Of course she’d had it in her. And it was a good eight inches of pure Heston. London laughed harder. He laughed with her. They laughed like kids. Because they were kids again, kids who played exceptionally well together.