She straddled him easily, her body loose and pliable. She fumbled at the buttons on his shirt, complaining. “Too many clothes.”
Right now, that was a secondary issue for Jack. His most urgent need was to get inside her. The anticipation of feeling all that tight, wet heat made him ravenous. “First things first.”
He reached between them and rubbed the tip of his cock across her opening, wetting himself. Then he gripped her thighs and pulled them wider across his lap while pushing up on his knees. He sank deep in one thrust. Miranda sucked a sharp breath, but her body opened, welcoming him.
The thrill cut through him. Heat speared his cock, pooled in his balls, coiled at the base of his spine, hazed his vision. Miranda moaned. Her fingers worked harder on the buttons of his shirt and pushed it open. Her warm hands stroked his skin. Then she spread her thighs wider and took him even deeper.
Jack forced himself to sit back on his heels when his body told him to drive into her using all his strength. There was plenty of time for hardcore fucking later. Right now, he needed to connect with her. Burrow beneath those walls while she was too high to notice.
“You feel so…damn…good.” Her voice dripped with pleasure.
Jack cupped her face and kissed her, sipping at her lips. Her lids were heavy, her lashes covering her dark eyes. “Ride me, baby.”
A sultry smile tipped her mouth. “My pleasure.”
She rose up on her knees, wrapped her arms at his neck, and started to move. She took him in full, slow strokes. She was slick and hot and soft, and Jack lost himself in the feel of her. He braced her back with both hands and covered one breast with his mouth. He sucked at her nipple and felt the corresponding squeeze of her pussy. He bit down, and a moan rolled in her throat. Her rhythm picked up pace. He slid his hands lower, gripping her ass and pulling her hips deeper into the thrust.
“Fuck, yes.”
She was quickening around him like she was going to climax again. He’d never had a woman respond this quickly, this easily, this explosively. During their first night, she’d rocked him into a double orgasm. His first. And if this was any indication of how their night was going to go, it wouldn’t be his last. She tested his restraint, challenged his endurance. Wrapped around his heart and squeezed.
She clasped the back of his neck with one hand, dropped the other arm to his thigh behind her, and climaxed again, her body undulating with the coil and release of muscle. She drenched his cock.
“Jesus Christ.” Her chest heaved, her face tilted toward the ceiling, her eyes closed. “This is insane.” Her head lolled sideways. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “You’re wicked good in bed, Mr. Taylor.”
“We’re wicked good in bed, together.” They were both sweaty now, and he repositioned his hold on her hips. He held her steady as he lifted to his knees, squeezed his glutes, and drove himself deep into her heat, all while he purposely held her gaze. He moved easily inside her, a slick, hot friction that blinded him with stars and made Miranda moan. “Wicked fucking good.”
Need coiled into a knot at the base of his spine and tightened across his hips. Jack put his quads and hamstrings to work, lifting into Miranda. He burned out his glutes thrusting deep. The back wall of her pussy slammed against the head of his cock, and her body squeezed in response. He made that his target and strived for a bull’s-eye on every thrust.
Four strokes in, Miranda climaxed with a curse. Ten strokes in, she came again. Twelve, she begged him not to stop. Fifteen, she was limp, leaning on him to keep herself upright. He found himself striving to break so
me undefined goal. They’d already surpassed every sexual fantasy he’d ever dreamt up, but he couldn’t keep himself from trying to make her climax just one more time.
“Jack.” She said his name like she was waving a white flag.
It broke his trance and dragged his thoughts back into his own body, where need raged. With a growl, he held her tight and quickened his pace, adding the slap of wet flesh to the party. His release came in a series of shudders, racking every muscle in his body.
When the quakes subsided, Jack dropped his head to her shoulder. His vision remained a cluster of flashing stars.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “I think I fucked myself blind.”
Miranda started laughing, causing them to collapse together on the bed in a tangle. Then he was laughing too.
When they were both out of breath, they drifted into silence. That full, rich, comfortable silence that buoyed the spirit.
Oh yeah. No doubt. He might not confess this to anyone until they’d been married ten years, but he knew she was most definitely The One.
11
Miranda floated to consciousness confused. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep. Or where she was. Or, shit, whose warm body she was draped over.
No, no, no.
She didn’t do this. She didn’t sleep with men. She had sex with them, then left. Sleeping hadn’t been part of the equation since… She didn’t even know. A decade ago?
Panic streaked through her stomach. Her mind started a gymnastics routine to figure out how to leave without this guy waking up. And, fuck, she didn’t even know who this guy—
A hand slid over her hair. Miranda’s brain fog evaporated, and her eyes focused.