Walking the Line by Nicola Marsh Read Free Book Online

hands cupped my
face, demanding I return to the moment and stay focused on what was
important. The two of us slaking this undeniable thirst for each
other.
    “Does this answer your question?”
    Bracing my hands on his shoulders, I lowered
myself onto him. Inch by exquisite inch. The fullness making me
gasp. Until I enclosed him.
    He groaned, his hands sliding from my cheeks
toward my breasts, where he kneaded as I started to ride him. I
started slow but couldn’t maintain the pace, the delicious friction
of him filling me so completely making me crave more.
    Sensing my need, his hands drifted from my
breasts to my hips. Anchoring me. Guiding me.
    Then he started to move, upward thrusts that
made me cry out.
    “You okay?”
    “Never better,” I ground out, my fingernails
digging into his shoulders as he pumped upward. Harder. Faster.
Urging me toward another climax.
    He shifted slightly, changed the angle and I
screamed as I came, my orgasm slamming into me so fast my head
spun.
    For some inexplicable reason, tears stung my
eyes. Maybe too much pleasure did that to me, I was that unused to
it.
    As Finn yelled my name and I clung to him, I
wondered if I’d ever be the same.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    FINN
     
     
    The view that greeted me when I stepped into
the cellar was Ellie’s cute arse in the air as she bent to check
hoses.
    After the week we’d had, where we’d spent
every spare moment in my bed, my first instinct was to cross the
short space between us, rip her panties off and bury myself between
her legs.
    She’d feel like heaven: hot, slick, tight. I
couldn’t get enough.
    My cock hardened and I was grateful for the
empty bar and locked doors
    “Hey beautiful, need help with those
kegs?”
    She glanced over her shoulder, a sly grin
alerting me to the fact she wouldn’t be averse to me carrying out
my lecherous thoughts.
    “The kegs are fine but this?” She wiggled her
arse. “May need some of your specialty TLC.”
    There was nothing tender, loving or caring in
the way I was on her in a second, flipping her cotton skirt
up—thank God she’d taken to wearing them after hours the last
week—and unzipping my fly.
    She bent over the stacked kegs further as I
rolled a condom on, tore her panties aside and plunged into her, my
mind momentarily blanking as it always did when I first slid
home.
    Then the sensations started to bombard me.
Intense, indescribable pleasure. Being gripped by hot, tight
velvet. Being milked. Being driven to the brink far too soon,
wanting to hold back, to prolong, but powerless to do so.
    Loud, slapping sounds mingled with her moans
as I thrust into her. In and out. Totally consumed. Totally
enclosed. Totally lost.
    As her pants intensified, my balls tightened.
Holding her hip with one hand, I slid the other around the front.
Found her clit. Rubbed.
    She came in an instant, her long, low moan
raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I kept rubbing as I
pumped into her, fucking so hard my cock felt like it exploded as I
came.
    I slumped over her, held her, until I could
breathe again.
    “I think I’m officially assigning you to
cellar duties,” she said, backing against me a little and I
straightened, still holding her tight as I slid out of her and
disposed of the condom.
    “If I get to do that daily, you won’t have to
pay me.”
    “That sounds gross and tawdry.” She snickered
and turned in the circle of my arms, her nose a cute little
wrinkle.
    “You know what I mean.” I slapped her arse
and she giggled, a lighthearted sound I’d come to hear more often
over the last seven days.
    Seven exquisite days when we’d worked and
played together. Laughed together. Teased together. We’d grown
closer and while I knew it couldn’t last, I was determined to make
the most of it.
    “Shall we head upstairs?” She ground her
pelvis against mine. I didn’t need any encouragement.
    “Sure, if we’re all done here.”
    She slipped out of my arms, only to snag my
hand. “Honey,