“Stop writhing around. You’re killing me.” This time, his fury penetrated. She blinked open her eyelids and stilled her wiggling butt. She saw the wildness in his eyes. It killed her a little.
“Just for a little bit,” she whispered. “I’m healthy, Asher. I swear it. I just had a doctor’s appointment last month, and I haven’t had sex since then.”
He winced. He looked like he was in considerable pain.
“I’m healthy too. That’s not what I’m worried about. What about—”
“You won’t come in me,” she interrupted. Part of her couldn’t believe she was saying this. But it had been what he’d said earlier—in addition to a whole hell of a lot of lust, of course. “I won’t get pregnant. I want to feel what it’s like without any barriers between us too. I always have, Asher.”
A muscle ticked in his lean cheek.
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop, once I’m inside you. I’ve never done this before . . . let alone with you,” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath. Yet she couldn’t help but notice that the whole time he spoke of his uncertainty, he stared down hungrily between her thighs.
“You’ll stop,” she whispered, putting out her arms for him. “I trust you.”
• • •
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, but he saw the truth of her words shining like a beacon in her green eyes. She trusted him without a doubt . . . trusted him to taste heaven and then walk away.
The problem was—the thing he didn’t want to think about at that moment—she hadn’t been correct about what he’d wanted to do to her in those golden, tense seconds. Not entirely, she hadn’t been.
If she’d accurately guessed his fantasy, she wouldn’t be allowing this.
The impulse that had come over him had been completely irrational anyway, the crazy impulse of a savage, the residue of the caveman that usually slumbered deep in his twenty-first-century male brain.
As he came down over her, he honestly couldn’t have said if she’d made a mistake in trusting him or not. He ached so much. He only knew he needed her more in that moment than he’d ever needed anything. This was the kind of sexual hunger that could turn a man into a lunatic . . . or quite possibly kill him, if it wasn’t pacified.
He guided his cock to her liquid entry. He opened his mouth to tell her it wasn’t too late to change her mind, but nothing came out but a groan at the sensation of her channel squeezing his cockhead. Concentrated excitement tickled at the base of his spine, and he abandoned his feeble attempts at reason.
When it came to Laila, his need had always been overwhelming.
He sank into her slowly, grinding his teeth together at the exquisite sensation. She hugged him so tightly . . . like she’d never let go. She was so warm and wet and sweet.
“Laila,” he muttered in agony as he pressed his balls tightly against her outer sex and she encapsulated every inch of him. He glanced at her face. She stared up at him, her pink lips parted in wonder, her cheeks flushed and glazed with perspiration.
“This is how it’s supposed to be,” he said. She just nodded, her lush mouth trembling.
Holding her stare, he began to dip his cock in and out of her. He was deliberate. He forced himself to absorb every sensation. Every stroke felt like it would be his last. He balanced precariously on a ledge between agony and bliss.
She began to move in synchrony with him in that liquid, sensuous roll of her hips that he loved. She lifted her head off the pillow and stared down between their bodies, watching them fuse. He followed her gaze, gritting his teeth hard at the erotic vision of his naked cock penetrating her, her juices glistening on the naked shaft. The silence seemed to surround them, embrace them, interrupted only by Laila’s soft whimpers. For his part, he held his breath. He had some vague, irrational idea that if he sucked his lungs full of air, he’d combust into a million flaming pieces.
He came up on his knees on the couch and opened his hands at the back of her thighs. He lifted her legs into the air, urged them wide and began to thrust. She stared up at him as though mesmerized, her firm breasts bouncing slightly as his pelvis smacked into hers.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said. Distantly, he realized he sounded a little angry. She disarmed him so easily, turned his entire body into a single, quivering, exposed nerve. He realized he could feel her shaking, feel her trembling with his hands and even his pounding cock. She was on the edge. He craved her release, but dreaded it too. He knew he couldn’t survive, naked as he was. Armorless. He’d burst into flame the second she started to come.
But a heaven like this wasn’t meant to last.
He held her hips tightly and thrust hard, causing her body to jerk.
“Jesus,” he groaned miserably. He reached with his thumb and rubbed her lubricated clit. He felt her surge against his fingertip. A huge shudder went through her. He knew he should withdraw, but then he felt it: her heat pouring into him, the exquisite, tiny, rippling convulsions of her vagina as she climaxed. Instead he pumped into her rapidly. It was like fucking fire . . . like rushing between the closing gates of heaven. His balls felt like they were caught in a vise.
He pulled out of her, a vicious roar ripping at his throat. A fog hazed his consciousness for a moment. When he came back to himself, he was frantically pumping his cock. He shuddered again, and another white, ropy strand of ejaculate jetted onto Laila’s smooth belly. The vision struck him as intensely erotic, and yet wrong somehow.
He resisted a wild, primal urge to plunge back inside and leave his seed at the deepest reaches of this woman’s body.
• • •
He blinked dazedly at the sound of the house phone ringing. His head went up. His face had been planted at the juncture of Laila’s neck and shoulder. Their pressing bodies were wet with his semen.