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Even the way his southern drawl curls around my name is sexual.
Dawson rises slowly to his feet, not taking his eyes off me, then steps forward until mere inches separate us. He slips his hand beneath my chin and tilts my head back to look into my eyes. The height difference between us has now been greatly exaggerated without my heels.
His thumb trails over my bottom lip and my mouth opens.
Then he smiles a slow, sexy smile as he says, “How many times do you want to come tonight?”
Chapter Eight
Dawson
Even as my question hangs between us, I wish I could ask it again for the first time because the look in Sophie’s eyes is incredible. From a brief flash of shock to the furrow of her brow as she considers her answer, all the while those brown eyes burn hotter and hotter as they hold mine, I could die a happy man seeing that expression cross her face.
Unfiltered need. It’s a beautiful thing.
Fuck it.
I can’t even wait for her answer.
I lean forward and claim her mouth in a kiss that makes her moan and sink against me. I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close, assaulting her mouth with deep, kneading strokes of my tongue. I’m desperate for her, can’t kiss her deep enough to satisfy the need burning inside me. Releasing her quickly, I go to work on the buttons of my shirt and her eyes watch me hungrily. When I strip the flannel off and toss it aside, she curses beneath her breath and I smirk.
“What was that, angel?”
Sophie licks her lips, bites down on the bottom one, then meets my gaze and repeats herself. “I said, fuck me.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Consider it done. I tear through the button-fly of my Levis and shove them down my hips until I’m standing before her in nothing but boxers.
“Well, don’t stop now,” she murmurs, motioning toward my shorts.
With a grin, I push them down and step out of them, then splay my hands out to my sides.
She shakes her head slowly, eyes focused on my cock. When she finally looks up at me again, her eyes are darker, pupils blown out with need.
“Come here, angel.”
Sophie rushes to me and I scoop her up into my arms. Her legs circle my waist and her warm heat wraps perfectly around my cock between us. Her lips crash against mine as I carry her to the bedroom, and I have to hold her firmly because the way our bodies are drawn to each other has my cock pressing dangerously close to the promised land and if I don’t have time for a woman, I certainly don’t have time for an accidental pregnancy or an unwanted infection of any sort.
I reach the bedroom and lower her onto the bed, then quickly stride to my open suitcase and toss through the contents until I find what I’m looking for.
I pull the box out and turn toward her as I open it.
Her eyebrows lift. “A whole box?”
I pause, looking down at my hands. Christ, this does look bad. “Um.” I swallow hard as shame heats the tips of my ears. “It’s—”
“I’m not judging you. Hurry up.”
I meet her gaze and can’t fight the grin that pulls at my lips as I rip the box open, grab a foil packet, and tear into it. Stretching the condom over my shaft as I stride toward her, I say, “Forgive me, angel, but this won’t be slow.”
“I don’t want slow.” She spreads her legs and I climb up onto the bed, then settle on top of her.
Lining my cock up, I look her in the eyes and curl one hand around the crown of her head. “You deserve slow.” I drive into her, giving her body time to adjust, all the while grinding my teeth against the fevered need to fuck her hard and fast.
Her legs circle my hips once more, and with her heels digging into my ass, she guides me in deeper.
I hiss as I sink into her as far as I can go. “Angel…”
“Hm?”
