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He stroked through her tender folds, focusing on the little nub begging for his attention. God, he loved getting her turned on. He loved watching her eyes glow and her chest rise and fall as her breathing sped up. He loved watching her nipples harden. Feeling them harden was even better, so he lifted the hand that wasn’t buried between her legs to her breasts.
As soon he squeezed one dark nipple, she moaned and pressed his hand harder against her breast. Her free hand covered her other breast, fondling her own flesh in a way that sent new heat directly to his cock.
“Jesus, Kendra, you’re so fucking hot,” he groaned. “I need to be inside you. Lift up.”
She obeyed, her body trembling as she tightened her thighs. He fisted his hand around his erection and adjusted her position so she was directly over him. As he flexed upward, she lowered herself down, and somehow the mechanics worked perfectly. She slid onto him, her breath catching in a deep moan somewhere inside her chest.
He clamped his hands onto the flesh of her hips and worked her onto his cock, up and down, deep and deeper, so deep. She rode him like that, grinding into him, seeking her own pleasure on his thick cock.
He gritted his teeth and slitted his eyes so he wasn’t bombarded with the erotic images right before his eyes. Keeping himself in check was frickin’ heroic under the circumstances, but he didn’t want to cheat her out of the electric orgasm they were generating together.
It wasn’t until she reared back, her body arcing with joy, her fingers squeezing her nipples, that he allowed his own orgasm to burst out the gate like a racehorse. He pulsed into her in deep spasms, each one an eternity in itself. Each one an experience written on his soul.
Damn, why did he always get poetic like that after making love to Kendra? Images would sneak into his dazed brain, little snips of poetry or magical thinking.
Did that happen to her too? Or was he the only sentimental one in this relationship?
She still sat astride him, chest heaving, sweat dampening the pretty area above her breasts. With one finger, he blotted a droplet sliding along her collarbone.
After a moment, he realized she wasn’t really moving. “Are you asleep?” he whispered. How could she sleep on top of him like that?
“Mmm. No. Just mellow.”
He drew her down next to him and settled her under the covers. They’d recently gone through the birth control drill, determined they were both free from STDs and she was on the Pill. He didn’t have to interrupt the afterglow by peeling off a sticky condom anymore.
That was an important milestone in their relationship.
Relationship being the key word. That was what it felt like to him. They’d blown way past rebound and were in new territory now, whether she knew it or not.
“Kendra,” he whispered.
Her eyelids fluttered, as if she was trying to lift them, but couldn’t because they were just too heavy. She was either asleep or nearly so.
“Would it be so bad to change the game?”
Twenty-Two
When Jason opened his eyes the next morning, Kendra was gone.
Damn it. Had he scared her off? He never should have mentioned anything about changing the game. This wasn’t a game. Not for him. Not anymore.
Then he realized that a banging sound from downstairs had woken him up. Maybe Kendra was in the kitchen doing something loud…like…renovating? Clog-dancing?
Shaking himself awake, he rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of shorts before jogging down the stairs. The banging turned out to be someone knocking on the front door.
Galen Cooper, of course, because who else would treat knocking on a door like a wilderness survival event?
His bushy-bearded friend burst through the door. As always, he brought the smell of the forest with him.
“I’m surprised you didn’t just cut it open with a chainsaw,” Jason grumbled at him as he barreled past him.
“My chainsaw’s in the shop.”
Jason followed him into the kitchen, where Galen hoisted himself onto a stool and looked around expectantly.
“You know this is my house, not a coffee shop?”
“You always have coffee ready.”
