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I bring the hand I’m still holding to my waist. With both of mine free, I trail them down the side of her body and over the sweet curves I discovered last night. The soft mounds of her breasts, her narrow waist gently swelling at her hips, then further down until I reach her toned thighs. Slipping my fingers under the hem of her short black knit dress, I roll it up, peeling away the stretchy fabric inch by inch and revealing her soft creamy skin beneath.
With the fabric pushed up to her hips, I get a first glimpse of her pretty hot-pink-covered treasure. She’s wearing one of those sexy little scraps of lace that tormented me when I saw them in her luggage. I keep rolling her dress up, and it doesn’t surprise me when I find her braless. But I don’t stop until I’ve completely stripped the material off over her head. Seconds later, I’ve removed my T-shirt and sweater.
“How fond of these lace panties are you?” I ask, tugging on the thin band at her hip.
“Rip it,” she demands, and I do. The piece of lace falls at her feet.
Using both hands for speed, I unbuckle and unzip my jeans, dragging them off along with my shoes. We’re both standing naked before each other, her eyes wide, watching and waiting to see what I’m going to do.
I snatch up one of the foil packets still lying on the desk, leftover from last night.
Freya holds her hand out. “I want to do it.”
I love the breathy, needy quality of her request.
She wraps her fingers around my cock, giving it a couple of firm strokes before rolling the condom on. Thank fuck, because I need to be buried deep inside her. But instead of coming closer, she moves to the bed, turns, and flops back onto it. The resulting wave throwing her legs wide in the air.
Laughter splits the silence as she attempts to move further across the bed. I halt her progress, grabbing one foot still clad in a boot.
I tug it off and then the other. “We don’t want a leak,” I warn, and all the while, my gaze is glued to the slice of heaven between her thighs.
She hooks one finger in the air, beckoning me forward. “Are you going to stand there staring? Because I thought you mentioned something about wanting to be inside me.”
“No, I said I need to be inside you.”
“Yes, yes, yes.” Her words are released on a series of pleading gasps.
I ease down over her. Her glistening pussy rises up to meet me as I position myself at her entrance. She’s so ready for me, but I still swipe a finger through her channel, coating it liberally with her desire. Another needy moan falls from her lips, and the northern lights in her eyes flare to life when I bring the dripping finger to my lips. I suck it clean, her gaze never wavering.
Sated by her taste, I inch closer. My cock sinks deeper into her soaking folds, filling her like I promised I would. Her hips rise up to meet me as I push down, every inch of me buried in her heat. This woman blows my fucking mind. We find our rhythm, and surprisingly, the waterbed works with it.
“Damn, that feels good,” I growl, pumping into her, bringing us both closer to the edge.
My thumb finds her clit, and I rub her sensitive bud. Slow, gentle circles at first. But as her voice rises, demanding more, I press harder, increasing the friction. She writhes beneath me, setting off a turbulent wave of water.
“Come for me, princess,” I beg, holding on to my own release by a thread.
I pump hard and deep, my balls slapping against her.
“Yessss … Fuck yessss,” she screams her release, her inner walls squeezing against my shaft. It’s impossible to hold on any longer, and I follow her off the cliff.
Drained, I collapse against her, both our bodies coated in a sweaty sheen. She’s a limp, languid hot mess, and I sound like I’ve run a marathon.
And all I want to do is hold her.
Chapter twelve
Freya
“Shower?” I ask, turning my head to the side so I’m facing him.
Rory’s eyes blink open, and he smiles back at me.
We drag our weak bodies from the bed, something that’s not as easy as it seems. But worth the effort when we’re standing under the warm shower, water cascading down over our entwined bodies. Neither of us willing to relinquish our hold on each other.
“We’re fucking good together,” he murmurs into my neck before nipping at the soft skin.
I don’t care if he leaves love bites all over my body. I want him to mark me, just like I want to mark him. A satisfied smile tilts the corners of my mouth up when I look for and find scratch marks on his shoulders and arms. I expect there are quite a few on his neck and back too.
