I ground into his promising bulge between my legs.
And when I did, I flew through the air as he whipped me on my back, and he was off the bed.
I had no time to protest the loss of him.
One sandal … gone.
Okay, I was with his program.
I undid the button on my jeans.
The other sandal … gone.
I unzipped my jeans.
With Axl tugging on the hems, my jeans scored down my legs, taking me partially with them.
Which was good, since my panties were now in easy reach for him to curl the fingers of both his hands in the sides and yank them down to my calves.
This he did.
I felt a rush of wet between my legs.
Or, another one.
I wheeled the panties off and then Axl had his arm around my waist and I was again going through the air.
Colliding with him.
I wrapped my legs around his hips as he entered the bed on his knees.
And we were kissing.
Kissing hard.
I had one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, the other one was tugging at his belt.
He broke the kiss and muttered, “Hold tight,” against my lips.
I stopped tugging at his belt and curled my arm around his shoulder.
We went back to kissing, and I was so into it, his taste, his tongue, the smell of him, the feel of my skin against his, my bare breasts crushed against his hard chest, when I felt more skin. The skin of his hips against my legs after he tugged down his cargos.
Then his hand was between us and I felt him rubbing the tip of his cock against my clit.
My pussy spasmed and electric currents rushed over my thighs.
Finally.
Oh yes.
So good.
So, so, so, so good.
I tore my mouth from his and panted, “God, honey.”
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I answered.
He shifted his cock to my entrance.
Finally!
I focused on his blue eyes.
“Yes,” I demanded.
He fell forward, pulling me down on him, filling me, and then I was on my back, and Axl was on me and in me.
In me.
Part of me.
Then he was gliding gently, in and out.
I used my legs around his ass to lift my hips to meet his strokes, our gazes locked.
“Beautiful,” I whispered.
“That’s my line,” he whispered back, angled his head, and kissed me again.
Then he started fucking me, the strokes turning to thrusts, his hips shifting, finding the right spot to make me gasp, moan, his hands on me, mine all over him.
It built.
It surged.
It carried me away.
The thrusts became drives.
I dug my nails into skin, sucked hard on his tongue.
The drives turned into pounds.
Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah.
I broke our kiss, shoved my face in his neck and wrapped everything I had around him.
Everything.
Tight.
“Christ, yeah,” he grunted.
And that was when I came.
Explosion.
Fireworks.
Then obliteration.
Nothing but sensation.
Elation.
Completion.
God, this was perfect.
God, he was perfect.
God, he was everything.
Everything.
My orgasm began drifting, he was still driving deep, I could hear his labored breathing, and I was cradling him, squeezing him, rising to meet him.
“Hattie,” he whispered in my ear before he groaned deeply, pressing his face hard in my neck, burying himself to the root.
Yeah.
Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeah.
As he coasted with his climax, I petted him, out of the zone of need, aware of everything now. The feel of his skin, the heat of it, the muscle under it. The heft of his cock, filling me full. The scent of him, man and soap and hints of shaving cream. The aroma of sex.
Of us.
He shifted his head, trailed his tongue around the groove behind my ear, down my neck to my throat, dipping it into the hollow at my clavicle, and then his head came up.
I saw his face just a moment before my eyes floated closed because he was kissing me, soft and sweet and sated and unhurried.
That kiss said we had now, and tomorrow, and the next day, and week, and years and years besides.
It was a kiss that said this was our beginning, and there might never be an end.
That kiss wasn’t a promise or a vow.
It was just reality.
The here and now.
And forever.
I wasn’t just moved by that gorgeous kiss.
I was shattered by it at the same time it held me together.
He was the only man who’d ever kissed me like that.
And I had a strong feeling deep in my heart that he was going to be the last man who would not only kiss me like that.
But kiss me at all.
He broke our kiss, slid his nose down the side of mine, over, down the other side, and God.
God.
He was perfect.
Everything.
“No more sleeping on the couch,” I said quietly.
He lifted a hint away and grinned at me. “Right.”
“Do you have tomorrow off?”
He nodded.
“Will you spend it with me?”
“Absolutely.”
I trailed my hands up his back, over his ribs, up his chest, his neck and cupped both his cheeks.
“You’re beautiful too,” I told him.
A glitter hit the ice of his eyes.