Her nipples stiffened as she watched him pump more lotion and rub the emollient between his hands, warming it. Liquid warmth surged between her thighs when he cupped her breasts and tenderly began to rub the lotion into her skin.
“It’s hard to believe that skin can be this soft,” he murmured from behind her. He cradled both breasts in his hand, lifting them, gliding his warm fingers along the lower swell of flesh. Her nipples darkened to the color of ripened raspberries. His fingertips touched the reddened crests. She stifled a whimper as he circled the beading tips. “Look at that,” he muttered, a hint of awe in his tone. “So amazing. So beautiful.”
Something volatile tightened in her throat. For a panicked moment, she thought she was going to burst into tears like she had earlier with Seth. Instead, she spun around, facing him.
“I want to be the one to touch you.”
He blinked. Joy realized she’d sounded quite fierce. His small shrug and slightly stunned expression seemed to say, By all means, don’t let me stop you. She smiled when she saw it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her head down as she pumped some of the lotion into her hands. “I just meant—you’re always making love to me, taking control of the situation.” She put her palms together in preparation to warm the lotion and looked up at him, her hands in a partial praying position. “I want to make love to you tonight.”
She laid her hands flat on his abdomen. His muscles leapt beneath her touch. She paused, feeling all the life and vibrancy contained in his flesh. She’d never seen a more beautiful man in her life.
She never would again.
Slowly, meticulously, she made a study of his body, rubbing the lotion into his narrow, lean waist and his ribs, feeling his chest rise and fall more erratically beneath her palms as she stimulated his small, erect nipples with her fingertips. Her arms rose as she moved to his shoulders. She glanced up into his face as she massaged dense deltoid muscles. His lips parted when their gazes met. He moved forward, as if to kiss her, but she moved her head back slightly and continued her exploration, rubbing the cords between his shoulders and neck. His nostrils flared slightly, his expression telling her loud and clear he did not like to be deprived when he saw what he wanted.
She arched her eyebrows and gave him a small smile. Tonight she would not be hurried in the process of touching him . . . of loving him. She massaged his rigid arm muscles, feeling his gaze on her movements the entire time. Looking down, she saw the pillar of his stiffened penis pressing against the cotton fabric of his pants. When she’d finished his arms, she gently urged him closer to the mirror so that he was watching her touch him. She moved behind him, one arm snaking around his waist where she touched his ridged belly, the other massaging corded back muscles. Little lotion remained, but she didn’t want to stop touching him. The skin covering his shoulder blades was so smooth, so thick, that she gave in to an urge to feel it against her cheek, and then against her lips. She pressed her naked breasts against his back.
He started to turn to take her into his arms.
“Don’t move.” She spoke softly next to his skin. She reached around and pulled on the drawstring of his pants. He froze. Both of her hands slipped beneath the waistband, her palms sliding against the sides of his firm, powerful buttocks. She released the fabric and it gathered around his thighs.
Joy moved her head around his arm and gazed in the mirror. His cock hung like some type of glorious, fertile fruit between his thighs, the tapering, fat head pinker than the light gold, straight shaft. Holding her breath, she reached around his hip and took the heavy member into her palm, wrapping her fingers around the stalk. He throbbed into her hand, the weight of the firm flesh thrilling her. She moved her fist, stroking him. When she reached the head, she squeezed it between the constricted ring of her fingers.
“Joy,” Everett groaned.
Her gaze flashed up to meet his in the mirror. He wasn’t watching her hand on his cock, but her face as she touched him. Keeping his penis in her hand, she moved to the side of him. She ran her hand along his length to the base, where she cupped his heavy balls and gave them a gentle squeeze.
“Let’s go to bed,” he said roughly.
“Wait,” she whispered, her hold on him making her demand difficult to ignore. She fisted him again and gave a good jerk. She recalled how forceful he’d been when he’d stroked his cock while she sucked on the head last night. It had been exciting to see him treat his own flesh almost aggressively. She gave him a few more lusty yanks. His guttural moan told her she’d been right. Everett didn’t like his cock to be treated with kid gloves. She beat at the tumescent member for a taut moment, watching in fascination as the veins popped on the surface and the shapely head took on a purple hue.
“I think they call that abuse,” Everett mumbled. She glanced up at him, pausing with her fist at midstaff. His jaw was rigid.
“What do you call it?”
“Heaven.”
She smiled. He grunted in irritation when she released her hold, but held his tongue when she grabbed the vanity stool beneath the countertop and pulled it toward him. She sat, her profile to the mirror. Without any preamble, she put her hands on his hips and turned him toward her. She wanted him to be able to watch in the mirror, if doing so would bring him pleasure. His pants slid to his knees. She took his penis into her hand, and for a moment just stared, absorbing the sight. She wanted to be mindful. She wanted to remember this moment.
Everett hissed something unintelligible when she lifted his cock and slid the head into her mouth. The firm, warm flesh stretched her lips. His flavor spread on her tongue. She closed her eyes and sucked. His musky, salty taste filled her consciousness; his turgid penis became her whole world. Her jaw ached and her lips screamed for a reprieve, but she wouldn’t stop. It was as if his pleasure had been mainlined into her veins, as if his gratification had
become her own. When the head of his cock slid into her throat and her body jerked in a reflex to expel him, she overcame even that, sacrificing herself to his bliss.
“Joy,” he said sharply.
She blinked open her eyes dazedly. Had he been calling her name repeatedly, and only the last exclamation had fractured her focus? Tears were running down her cheeks. She leaned back, Everett’s stiff member sliding from her mouth. She looked up the length of his naked body and froze when she saw his expression. His nostrils flared; his eyes looked wild.
“How can you give yourself like that and claim this thing between us is meaningless?”
She swallowed thickly. Her throat hurt badly. Perhaps he noticed her grimace, because his intense, almost angry expression softened. He kicked off the pants that had pooled around his ankles and grabbed her hand. He led her to the bedside table where he picked up a bottle of water.
“Drink some,” he said.
The cool water felt delicious sliding down her tender, raw throat.
“Your cheeks are flushed again.” He touched her forehead. “I think your fever is back,” he said grimly. He tossed back the comforter and sheet. “Go on. Get into bed,” he said when she just stood there. He sighed and drew up her negligee over her breasts. “You need to sleep. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”