she’d wanted to be. She tried to move, tried to show him how much she needed him to move, but her attempts were futile and pathetic.
All it took was her final, defeated utterance of his name.
His hands tightened on her; his hips drew back. She groaned into his neck as his cock nearly slid from her wasted body. When she had but an inch or so left of him, he gave it all back. All of it. And she awakened. She rose up on her arms, staring down at him, full of him, consumed by him. There was pleasure to be had in his glorious body, and by God, she was going to take it and make it hers.
Dropping her mouth to his in a furious kiss, she lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, taking him in, pushing him out. Tightening her muscles and stealing his breath. He joined in her rhythm, this time not fighting it, not showing her his own. His hands fisted in her hair, his body jerked and shuddered as she rode him.
“So good,” she whispered against his lips. “You feel so good, baby.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”
She didn’t care; watching him find his release would be almost as satisfying as finding her own. Almost. She rubbed her entire body against him, and even with him thick and pumping hard inside her, she couldn’t seem to get close enough.
Still, in the throes of mindless passion, he was careful about where his hands ventured. Never to her back. Only her hips and her breasts and shoulders. Down her arms. She lowered herself to him and reached for his hands, twining her fingers with his and pinning him down. A fine sheen of sweat slicked her skin, and she tasted the salt of his when she kissed his jaw.
Close, she was so close… Angling her hips so that her clit could grind into him, she tossed her head back and gasped as two separate sensations fused and pitched her higher. Before she could gasp his name, that riptide swept her out. Every muscle locked down on him, and the intensity of her climax nearly rent her in two. Her body carried on an erratic rhythm of its own volition, demanding more of this from him and getting it, milking it, taking all he had to give.
Whatever words tumbled from her mouth, she wouldn’t remember them later, but she would remember his face as he joined her. The way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth opened—it was all shown to her through a dim shaft of light from the single window, and he was gorgeous.
Silent, though. As he shook and pulled her closer, he scarcely uttered a sound. She only knew he came from the throb of him deep inside, the pleasure drawn on his shadowed face.
Damn, what she wouldn’t give to make this man roar. But there wouldn’t be any more opportunities for that, would there? He certainly wouldn’t be up for it. She might, though. Oh, holy hell, after that? He might have to beat her away with a stick.
As passion’s grip released them both, she eased down over his body and struggled to catch her breath. His arms—still minding her sensitive skin—wound around her shoulders and the small of her back. At least he gave her that much. She snuggled her face into the crook between his neck and shoulder and breathed deeply, feeling her heart rate slow. His still beat strong against her.
He smelled so good. Hell, they smelled good together…his spice and her musk and their sex blending into an intoxicating perfume. No wonder she’d felt so drunk, so drugged.
She chuckled lazily at the sappy, romantic direction her thoughts were taking. God knew she was aware of what this was all about. She’d needed to get laid; she’d needed to be desired. He’d seemed like a good candidate—and damn, had he ever lived up to her expectations.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, and despite the grounding nature of her feelings now, she could appreciate the huskiness of his voice and how satiated he sounded. She’d done that for him, and it was a kick.
“Just thinking about how we smell.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “How we smell ? Are
All it took was her final, defeated utterance of his name.
His hands tightened on her; his hips drew back. She groaned into his neck as his cock nearly slid from her wasted body. When she had but an inch or so left of him, he gave it all back. All of it. And she awakened. She rose up on her arms, staring down at him, full of him, consumed by him. There was pleasure to be had in his glorious body, and by God, she was going to take it and make it hers.
Dropping her mouth to his in a furious kiss, she lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, taking him in, pushing him out. Tightening her muscles and stealing his breath. He joined in her rhythm, this time not fighting it, not showing her his own. His hands fisted in her hair, his body jerked and shuddered as she rode him.
“So good,” she whispered against his lips. “You feel so good, baby.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”
She didn’t care; watching him find his release would be almost as satisfying as finding her own. Almost. She rubbed her entire body against him, and even with him thick and pumping hard inside her, she couldn’t seem to get close enough.
Still, in the throes of mindless passion, he was careful about where his hands ventured. Never to her back. Only her hips and her breasts and shoulders. Down her arms. She lowered herself to him and reached for his hands, twining her fingers with his and pinning him down. A fine sheen of sweat slicked her skin, and she tasted the salt of his when she kissed his jaw.
Close, she was so close… Angling her hips so that her clit could grind into him, she tossed her head back and gasped as two separate sensations fused and pitched her higher. Before she could gasp his name, that riptide swept her out. Every muscle locked down on him, and the intensity of her climax nearly rent her in two. Her body carried on an erratic rhythm of its own volition, demanding more of this from him and getting it, milking it, taking all he had to give.
Whatever words tumbled from her mouth, she wouldn’t remember them later, but she would remember his face as he joined her. The way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth opened—it was all shown to her through a dim shaft of light from the single window, and he was gorgeous.
Silent, though. As he shook and pulled her closer, he scarcely uttered a sound. She only knew he came from the throb of him deep inside, the pleasure drawn on his shadowed face.
Damn, what she wouldn’t give to make this man roar. But there wouldn’t be any more opportunities for that, would there? He certainly wouldn’t be up for it. She might, though. Oh, holy hell, after that? He might have to beat her away with a stick.
As passion’s grip released them both, she eased down over his body and struggled to catch her breath. His arms—still minding her sensitive skin—wound around her shoulders and the small of her back. At least he gave her that much. She snuggled her face into the crook between his neck and shoulder and breathed deeply, feeling her heart rate slow. His still beat strong against her.
He smelled so good. Hell, they smelled good together…his spice and her musk and their sex blending into an intoxicating perfume. No wonder she’d felt so drunk, so drugged.
She chuckled lazily at the sappy, romantic direction her thoughts were taking. God knew she was aware of what this was all about. She’d needed to get laid; she’d needed to be desired. He’d seemed like a good candidate—and damn, had he ever lived up to her expectations.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, and despite the grounding nature of her feelings now, she could appreciate the huskiness of his voice and how satiated he sounded. She’d done that for him, and it was a kick.
“Just thinking about how we smell.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “How we smell ? Are
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