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Jo surged upward and pushed him back on the bed, straddling his lap. Her slim legs eased along his hips, the slick softness between her legs sliding along his engorged erection. She exposed the slender line of her throat as she tilted her head, surrendering to the sensation powering through her body.
Too much. Watching her only jacked his pulse higher. Mine.
She was clean shaven. All mine. Nothing between him and the pink folds of her pussy, hot and wet, ready for him. He wanted nothing more than to lodge himself deep inside her and wipe out the heartache that too often darkened her eyes.
“Condom.” He gripped the sheets as he gritted out the word, his control tenuous. He rolled out from under her, retrieved the condom from his pants pocket he’d taken from the hotel bathroom in Skarsvag.
Jo welcomed him back to the bed, her hand sliding down to encircle the base of his cock. Her touch was fuel to the fire raging inside him.
“Lie down.” Her voice was a steely command.
He could flip her right now, pin her to the bed, take her hard and fast, but her telling him what to do? Fucking hot.
She straddled him again, but this time she allowed her body to glide over the swollen mushroom head of his cock. She paused, trapping him within her slick folds.
It took everything he had to lie and let her take her time, to pleasure herself on the hardness of his body. She sank down an inch, enveloping just the tip.
The feel of her tight wet clasp set his head spinning. He cupped her buttocks, choking out her name. “Jo.”
She sank further and his cock plunged deeper. She rocked her hips, her thighs clamped to his side, small breathy mewls of pleasure falling from her sweet lips. The sound went straight to his impossibly engorged cock.
She wanted this; she wanted him, all of him, just as he was. The knowledge inflamed him. Griff gripped her bottom and yanked her down with a brutal pull, forcing the length of him deep inside her.
She cried out, her back arching, her hair a cascade on the cream of her shoulders. He could watch her forever and never tire of her, but it was too much. He rocked upward and lifting her, flipped her onto her back and powered inside her. She curled her legs around his hips, breathless, locking them together as one, her peach smooth skin meeting his.
Griff began to move. He wanted to take slow, delicious thrusts that made her eyes flutter closed, but it wasn’t possible. He needed to thrust. Harder, faster—possessing her.
He found her mouth again. Kissed her as the taste of her flooded him. Everything about this woman was right. She filled all his negative spaces with light.
She matched his brutal rhythm, her hips bucking upward, granting him deeper penetration, her nails digging into his ass, urging him on, till her skin shone and she was only capable of breathy inarticulate sounds.
Her body strained under him. She was close and so was he, riding the hard edge of his orgasm. The pull and drag of her folds against him was the sweetest torture, and he wouldn’t last much longer. A torrent of heat rushed him as Jo bowed violently beneath him. She bit down on her lower lip to stifle a scream, her body clamping down hard on him.
It was the trigger he needed, wanted so badly. His hold on her hips solidified as he took a last few punching thrusts to find his own release. He slammed into her one last time, losing himself in her. Shudders tore through him as he poured himself inside her with a ragged groan.
He sagged against her, propping himself up on his elbows so he didn’t crush her, waiting for his breathing to calm. “Jesus.”
“That was nothing to do with Jesus.” Her gaze was dazed, but her mouth formed a lazy smile. She giggled, and the sound was pure sunlight.
He withdrew and disposed of the condom, then pulled her into the crook of his arms, her back to his belly, enjoying the feel of her still hot skin against him.
Her hands fitted between his. Griff stroked his fingers across the smoothness of her skin and marveled at its translucence, the fineness of her frame. There had to be titanium in her bones. It made little sense for someone so slight to be so strong. What she had survived already, it didn’t bear thinking about.
She snuggled against him as he peppered her hair with tiny kisses, her ass nestled in his crotch, her breaths becoming soft and regular as she fell asleep. He hoped it was deep and dreamless.
Griff arranged the blanket over her feet, not wanting them to be cold, then lay listening to the sounds of the house—the occasional spit of wood surrendering to the fire, the soft whisper of more snow against the roof.
He’d been hungry for this—respite from the constrained world he lived in to glimpse what life could be like, unshackled from his past.
It had been all of that.
But also, so much more, which was fucking ridiculous because the one thing they were not was a love story, right?
He squeezed his eyes shut, nuzzled his nose against the back of her neck, not wanting to admit the truth pressing against the back of his mind—what they’d just shared was more than sex. The words to express it evaded him, but right now, in this room with Jo in his arms, he knew he’d found perfection.
34
Griff woke just before dawn.
