Tell Me a Story (The Story Series Book 1) by Tamara Lush

himself. The wood was hard and cold against my back, and he entered me fast. His cock was huge, practically splitting me, and he clamped my wrists and pressed them to the floor, high above my head. I bit his neck, and he groaned, loud, then took my wrists in one hand and my jaw in another and held my head still. He stared at me at that moment with intense triumph, as if this is what he’d been waiting for.
    Normally we bantered and talked and whispered dirty things to each other. Not today. Today we fucked like animals, and the primal, pounding thrust of his hips and cock made me dizzy with pleasure. Our bodies slapped together, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Caleb was totally in the moment. This was what I’d wanted but had never experienced: a man who could be rough at the right moments, who was willing to be carried away by passion because of me .
    When he pulled out, I protested with a whimper. He flipped me onto my stomach and then hauled my hips up so my ass was in the air. He squeezed my cheeks with both hands, then groaned.
    “You have the perfect ass, Emma. Jesus.” He smacked me, hard. “I could come just looking at your ass.” I felt him rubbing his cock against my skin.
    “I need you inside of me,” I begged. “Please?” He smacked me again on the other cheek, and I trembled and repeated the word please in a whisper. My need for him was uncontrollable, and in some tiny corner of my mind, I knew this was getting dangerous. For all sorts of reasons.
    Caleb claimed me from behind, sinking himself into me while fisting my hair and holding my head firmly to the floor. I had a second orgasm and cried out as I came and came in waves. Everything fell away for a split second, time and life itself. He climaxed as well, chanting my name like a mantra and gripping the flesh of my hips as if I were a lifeline.
    In that moment, I sensed vulnerability in his voice and his touch. But maybe that’s how it is with men, that they’re at their most defenseless in the moments after orgasm.
    He rolled off me, and we lay on our backs in my hallway, gasping.
    “Emma, you’re making me lose control. I’ve never done anything like that,” he said weakly.
    “I haven’t either.”
    “Well, it’s also unusual.”
    “In what way?”
    “You’re making me feel more, I don’t know. Masculine. Primitive.”
    “Hm.” My eyelids felt heavy.
    He rolled on one side and looked at me, rubbing my hip where he’d grabbed a handful of my body. “But I don’t want to hurt you. Are you okay? I got carried away.”
    I opened my eyes and sighed with contentment. “I’m excellent, Caleb. Perfect, in fact.”
    He chewed on his cheek and looked worried.
    “Please don’t be freaked out. I wanted this. I loved it.”
    He stroked my messy hair, arranging it behind my shoulder. “What are you doing to me, Emma Price? You’re making me late in getting back to the office, you made me forget my watch—”
    “And I also made you try tofu.” I snuggled up to him, and we lay naked on the hall floor for several minutes, hugging and tenderly kissing, until he was really late and scrambled to return to the office.
    And that was the thing: although we were having the hottest sex I’d ever experienced, it wasn’t all physical—at least, I didn’t think so.
    But I was still reluctant to reveal too much about myself, too soon, and refrained from anything that felt truly intimate. I didn’t sleep over, even when he asked. Even when he begged. I didn’t invite him over to my house at nighttime, to avoid awkward conversations about whether he should stay. Instead, I hung out at his condo, fucked and sucked and licked and kissed, and then I’d leave.
    “You don’t have to go,” he said one night, wrapping his arms around me. “I want you to stay. I’m leaving for Brazil tomorrow.”
    I shook my head. “No, I’d better get home, I have—”
    “A meeting? Your cat? An emergency at the bookstore?” His mouth turned into an