Long, slow indulgent kisses mixed with passionate thrusts.
It’s the perfect pace. Limbs tangled together, bodies connected, breath coming fast.
She bows her back, arching with me, moving like water as I take my time, enjoying this delicious, lingering rhythm.
A pace that soon seems to drive her wild.
She moans as she jerks me closer, wraps those long, toned legs around my body, rocking up with me. She’s so in tune with herself. So connected with her own pleasure. It’s incredible to watch her move, to feel her let go.
Her ankles hook around my ass, tugging me even deeper. A hot spike of lust shoots down my spine. “Mmm. Use me, sweetheart,” I rasp in her ear, bracing myself on my forearms, my chest sliding against her firm tits.
“I am, oh God, I am,” she murmurs, her fingers playing with the ends of my hair. “Deeper,” she begs.
I love it when a woman asks for exactly what she wants—and when I can give it to her. I ease out, nearly all the way, then drive back into her.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she moans, stretching her neck.
“You want me to fuck you good and hard?”
“I do, yes, I do.”
“Then let me put you on your hands and knees.”
Her eyes sparkle with dirty yeses.
In seconds we scramble around, shifting position. The beautiful woman lifts her hips, and I slide back home.
Stilling myself as her body hugs me.
Then I roam my hand up her back, grip her shoulder, and pin her in place as I fuck her deep and hard, with powerful, long thrusts that make her shake with pleasure.
She drops down to her elbows, and in seconds, she’s gasping again.
Groaning.
Then shouting my name once more.
“Oh God, yes, oh God yes,” she moans, tensing, and a climax seems to tear through her body.
That’s enough for me.
It trips my wires, and pleasure seizes me, taking me captive. I come hard.
The aftershocks radiate spectacularly through every damn cell in my body.
I dip my face, giving her a little bite on the shoulder.
“Mmm, nibble on me,” she murmurs.
I nip her once more.
She laughs lightly. It’s a great sound, and it makes me smile.
I roll to my side and ease out of her. “I’ve wanted to do that with you for more than seven years.”
She turns her gaze to me. Her eyes are etched with happiness, but it reads a little temporary. “When I woke up this morning, this wasn’t how I expected tonight to go,” she admits with a touch of sadness.
My shoulders tense. Is she about to gather her things and fly out of here? I don’t want her to go. But then, she can’t truly take off. She has nothing to wear.
Hazards of jilted bride sex, it seems.
Still, I want her to want to be here.
I didn’t expect to feel so much want. Not tonight, and not of that variety.
“I’m sure you didn’t,” I say with sympathy. That’s the reality of her day, and I can’t escape it.
Hell, she can’t truly escape it.
She was dumped on her wedding day.
My stresses are nothing compared to hers.
“But,” she adds, running her fingers down my arm, “I’m weirdly, strangely glad I’m here.”
A smile tips my lips.
All things considered, that’s as good as it gets with compliments on a day like today.
And I’ll take what I can get from her.
Oh yes, I will.
After we clean up, I bring her back to bed, nuzzling her neck. “Do you have to go?”
I hope she says no. I really want her to stay. It’s been a while. A long while. No one’s spent the night in ages, and having a woman in my arms feels too damn good.
No, that’s not it.
Having Katie in my arms feels great.
She props her head in her hand. Fear flickers across those pretty eyes—worry too. “Do you want me to go?”
I hate what she’s been through. That it may make her doubt . . . everything. “Hell, no. I want you to stay.” I can give her that much—the truth, something her slimeball of an ex couldn’t muster up.
“And I definitely want you to spend the night,” I add, even as nerves prickle along my skin.
What the hell? I’m not a guy who feels nerves. But I do with her, and I think I know why. She’s tough on the outside, using her humor as a shield, her sex appeal as a source of strength. She’s all confidence and guts, but she’s also remarkably fragile.
I don’t want to take advantage of her.
I don’t want to be the kind of guy I was raised by.
Don’t want to be the bad guy. That’s my worry—the possibility that I could hurt her.
She’s had more than enough of that lately.
“You want me to stay?” She sounds like she can’t believe her luck.
“I sure as hell do.” I sit up. “Wait, are you hungry? I haven’t fed you. I should be ashamed of myself.”