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Not all over, I think, just right there. But I think he gets it. “You know exactly what I want. You’re intentionally teasing me.”
His confirming laughter vibrates just above my flesh, and my fingers curl around the blankets. “Please already. Please. Is that what you want?”
“That’s exactly what I want.” He rewards me with another lick of his tongue, his fingers sliding along the seam of my sensitive flesh. “You’re so damn wet. Every moment outside you is worth it to feel this.” His fingers press inside me, and as I gasp again, this time loudly, his mouth closes over my clit, and he suckles.
This isn’t going to take long, I think, as my body darn near vibrates under his mouth, and his fingers pump and stretch and explore, inside and out, and I’m simply wild with my need—hips lifting, back arching, fingers twining roughly in his hair to the point it has to hurt.
But I can’t stop.
Not until the clench stills me, and inside it I find the burn of pleasure, this promise that absolute bliss is coming. I tumble over with the most intense spasm of orgasm I’ve ever experienced, and then it’s a cascade of ripples and waves that overwhelm me in the best of ways. I all but black out and come back to when I’ve collapsed, sunk into the mattress in utter contentment.
His fingers slide from inside me, and his mouth returns for one last kiss pressed to my belly before he’s sliding up my body and kissing me. I’m salty on his lips, and the hunger in him is almost a growl, and the craving for more in me growls a little right with him. He radiates urgency, his willpower is spent the way I was only moments before, and his energy feeds more of the same in me.
He cups my backside and rotates me to my side, angling our hips, and he doesn’t tease us. He presses inside me, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt him as big or as hard as he is now. I lean into him, clinging to his shoulder and to the press of his naked skin to mine, and he drives deep. We pant as if one, and he shifts inside me, settling in just right.
“You feel so damn good, baby,” he murmurs, stroking hair from my face. “I think I’ll stay right here forever.” His lips brush mine. “I love you.” Somehow, that admission is rough as sandpaper and still manages to be silky seduction.
“I love you, too,” I whisper.
The heat between us smolders and mixes with so much emotion that I can barely catch my breath. He pulls back, eases his cock so far back, and when I think I will scream with his near absence, he thrusts hard and fast. My nipples pucker between us, the dark hair on his chest tickling the tips, and I feel that sensation deep in my core where I squeeze him, dragging him deeper. His mouth crushes mine, his body grinding against mine, and it’s this slow, seductive dance. Everything else fades and falls away. There is only this, him, me. We work into a frenzy, and he rolls to his back and pulls me on top.
“You’re so damn beautiful, Alana,” he murmurs hoarsely, his eyes devouring me where I straddle him. “Ride me, baby.”
And I do. I so do. No hesitation in me. I brace myself on his chest, my hips gyrating, eyes fluttering. His hands and eyes are all over me—my breasts, my belly, my hips. He sits up, holding me close, his face buried in my neck as he rocks me against him, thrusting as he pulls me down against him. But I’m there already. I’m always there.
The next thing I know, I’m on my back, one knee in my chest. He’s driving into me, wild and hard, and I’m right there with him, my free leg tangled around his leg, holding him to me. He grinds to a groaning release, my knee falling away, his body enveloping mine. The trembling in my core is eternal and still far too short.
We’re back to panting together—we’re good at that, it seems—when he kisses me hard and fast and then rolls off of me onto his back. “Holy mother, woman,” he murmurs, tilting his head to look at me.
Satisfaction traces the lines of his handsome face, and I reach over and trail fingers down his jaw. He catches my hand and kisses it. “I’ll get you something.”
I catch his arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He strokes my hair, his hand lingering before falling away. “Nothing is wrong.”
“I know you,” I whisper. “I know what I felt when you pulled me into this bedroom.”
“You need a towel, baby. Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.” He removes my hand from his arm, rounds the bed to cross my direction, and disappears into the bathroom.
He’s avoiding this topic and using sex to shut me up. Good sex, great sex, but still, he used it to shut me up.
I grab the box of tissues, clean up, and then follow him. I all but run smack into him at the door, him exiting and me entering. He captures my arms, a towel in one hand. I grab it and toss it. “I took care of it. And I know whatever you’re holding back is you taking care of me. But don’t do that. If we’re in this together, we’re in this together.”
“Of course, we’re in this together, baby.”
“Then what are you avoiding?”
“Not avoiding. Just delaying. I wanted some time together. I wanted it untainted by all this bullshit.”
“Talk to me.”
“If you want to talk, we both need clothes. You’re especially distracting while naked.” He releases me and snags my silk robe from behind the door, pulling it around me.
I slip my arms inside, and he pulls on a pair of pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, our attire suggesting we might go back to bed. Just—not yet.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Alana
