Take You Back / Gwayne Hightower / Davina Targaryen

36. Primal

There was something primal, wild about the way he climbed atop her now. He leaned over her, his hair falling into his eyes.

"Davina," he rasped, his voice thick with his fraying restraint. His forearms were all corded muscle and shaking tension as he held himself perfectly still above Davina.

Her finger was still between his lips. He looked like he might die if she withdrew it. Davina understood the desperate look in his eyes what he was asking her. With a grunt and one delicious thrust of his hips he was fully seated inside her. She gasped, stunned, the sheer enormity of him stealing the breath from her lungs. Her body clenched and unclenched involuntarily, struggling to adjust to his size as he tried to hold himself back.

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down into a searing kiss. He was everywhere, all at once, and she wanted him to move, to feel the glorious sensual pleasure of him sliding in and out of her body.

She wanted to have him in her arms as they moved together, to fall apart in ecstasy as she held him close. On a shaky exhale he slowly pulled out, and then thrust back into her with so much force the headboard knocked against the wall. She slid her hands down his backside, gripping the hard muscle beneath her fingertips as she tried to pull him even deeper inside her.

"Is this okay?" The cords in his neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought to hold on.

"Yes." She agreed and He groaned, feral, his lips so close to the overly sensitive skin of her neck she felt it more than heard it. Whatever thin filament of restraint he'd been clinging to seemed to snap with another sharp thrust of his hips. And then another. And another.

"Mine," he growled, the speed of his thrusts increasing, his voice taking on a deep rumbling timbre she had never heard from him before. She answered with an incoherent moan, writhing beneath him, pinned to the mattress by his strong hands and the relentless pace of his hips.

He'd been a patient and giving lover earlier. Now, he was using her, her body, for his own pleasure. She liked this side of him. The realization that he wasn't going to let her out of this bed until he'd thoroughly had his way with her thrilled her completely. A desperate cry tore from his throat, nearly sending her spiraling straight into another orgasm.

"Please," she begged breathlessly, not even knowing what she was begging for. She canted her hips upward, matching his thrusts, mindless in her desperate, urgent need. Her lungs couldn't pull in enough air. Her body couldn't get enough friction. There was nothing in the world but his breath in her ear, the pounding, relentless thrusts of his body into hers, and the shimmering orgasm he was about to give her that still remained frustratingly out of reach.

"I . . . want . . . to . . . feel . . . you . . . ," he gritted out so slowly. So fucking slowly. She was nothing but mindless sensation. When he commanded she come she came.

She was still in the throes of pleasure when his hips slammed into her one final time, he bit down on her lip drawing blood. Fore and blood, the blood on his tongue, her name falling feverishly from his lips.

His whole body went rigid above her, his back arching, his hands fisting the sheets on either side of her head so tightly his knuckles were white. They were silent for a long moment after that as they lay side by side on the mattress.

Her head lolled on his chest, the gentle designs he was drawing on her arm with his fingertips making her drowsy. The only sounds in the room, aside from the steady rhythm of their breathing was their matching heartbeats.

"Not that im complaining." Davina remarked. "But..."

"You are friendly with the guards. Just reminding you who your husband is." Gwayne answered. Davina nodded kissing him again.

"Im gonna talk to them some more then." Davina mused. "I love you. Only you."