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Gradually I become aware I’m using real words. “Faster. Yes. Oh God. Like that. Yeah. Please.”
And he fucks me into an orgasm that catches me off guard—a sudden clench deep inside me, a roll of heat, a sparkle that burns and aches in the best way—and I’m crying out his name, the heels of my boots digging into his muscular ass as I come apart.
I feel an answering shudder in his body as I float in a haze of pleasure, feel his thrusts lose rhythm, and he moans, burying his face in the crook of my neck. His cock pulses inside me, the heat of his release seeping through the condom, and another wave of pleasure rolls through me.
“Hell, babe.” He’s panting, and I just love that it’s because of me. He pulls out of me, making us both groan, and rolls over, to my side, working the latex off. “That was fucking awesome.”
He holds the condom, staring at it, a crease between his pale brows.
“What is it?” I feel liquid, a pool of satisfied woman, as I roll on my side to get a better look at him, and maybe finally also run my hands over him.
“It’s just that…” His mouth twists, and he glances at me quickly, then away. “This isn’t my usual game.”
“What do you mean?” A thread of unease weaves itself through my mind.
“Simple sex.”
I blink. Okay, what? “You mean normally you do more things like…” I frown back at him. “Like the roses?”
His brow smooths out and he grins, catching me off guard with the openness of his expression. “Yeah. Just like the roses.”
“You can use the roses if you like.” I nod at where he dropped them, on a side table. A bit of heat rolls up my face when I admit, “I liked that.”
“Well, well…” He lifts a hand to my face, strokes my cheek, and his eyes go soft. “Really?”
“Really.” I shift, feeling kind of ridiculous only dressed in my bunched up skirt and boots, but the way his gaze travels down my body washes the feeling away in a tide of want. “I thought it was hot.”
“It sure was.”
And he’s right here, and I want. I want so much more.
Dammit.
I give in and sit up, then put my hands on his chest. Firm, warm, smooth, muscles rolling under my palms as he leans back, propping himself up on his elbows, observing me.
“What is it, girl?” He looks down, when my hands trail over his washboard abs to his navel. His cock is semi-hard, stirring more as my touch approaches it.
“Just wanted to touch you like this.”
“Then by all means.” His gaze drifts up from my hands to my boobs, and his lashes lower over dilated eyes. His cock is hardening, lifting between us. “If you keep it up, though, I might not be able to try something else with you.”
“Like what?”
“Like that.” He nods at something.
Something else he’s left on the side table, I realize, turning reluctantly to see, something silver coiled beside the roses.
“What is it?”
“Take a look.”
I love how his body feels under my touch. I hesitate, slipping my hands up his hard pecs to his shoulders. Love how wide they are, how my fingers splay over his forearms, looking tiny resting o
n his biceps. He has more ink there. Words in a cursive script, encircling his upper arms.
He puts those arms around me as he throws his bare legs off the bed. He stands, lifting me with him, and I wrap my legs around him with a yelp as he moves.
He walks over to the side table and lets me slide back down. My cheek rests on his bare chest for a moment, and his heartbeat thuds steadily in my ear.
