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"I'll take that as a yes," he said, planting his hands near my shoulders and moving over me. "I was right too."
"Right?" I asked, brows drawing together.
"Yep," he agreed, but didn't elaborate.
"What were you right about?"
"Sweet fucking pussy," he said, smirk going devilish. "Think I'll have to have a little bit of that for breakfast every goddamn morning."
My cheeks heated at that, both turned on by but slightly embarrassed by his openness.
But before I could let myself really analyze those feelings, as I was bound to do, his hips ground into mine, making his hard cock slip up my slit and make a delicious pass over my oversensitive clit.
"Yeah, we're nowhere near done," he said, smile full of promise before his lips crashed down on mine again- harder, hungrier, reminding me that while a bit of my need was sated, his was raging strong through his system.
He rolled, pulling me with him until I was on top again, his hands running down my back and grabbing my ass.
His lips pulled from mine as his fingers whispered up my spine then over my shoulders. His fingers of one hand moved inward on my arm, just above my elbow and rubbed his fingers over the small matchstick under my skin.
"Got my papers for you when you're ready to take that step," he informed me, once again almost scaring me with his ability to see things everyone else missed.
And as much as I didn't want to throw ice water on what was one of the hottest moments in my life, I went ahead and said it because I was told once that if you didn't have communication with a partner, you had nothing. "I don't have sex without condoms."
His head tilted to the side at that, light eyes penetrating and it took a lot of willpower to not squirm or fumble to find an explanation. "I showed you mine," he said oddly a moment later. "Eventually, you're going to have to show me yours."
"My what?"
"Scars, sweetheart," he explained, folding up toward me, arms crossing over my lower back, holding me tight where I might have pulled away. "Why you're so terrified of intimacy and all the mess it brings with it." I must have stiffened, because he squeezed me tighter. "But that's for another time. Right now, you need to see more of my glorious body," he said unexpectedly, making me let out a surprised laugh as he flipped me onto my back, straddling my hips, and making a ridiculous, adorably cocky show of sliding his hands down his chest and stomach before snagging the waistband of his pajama pants and slowly dragging them down. "This is the part where you'd be throwing money at me normally," he informed me just before the waistband got low enough for me to finally see him bare to me- his cock hard and straining and promising to fill me perfectly.
At that thought, there even seemed to be a genuine hollowness deep inside, begging for fulfillment.
My eyes slid slowly back up, catching the outlines of some of his tattoos before they found his face, his smile gone, his eyes heated. My fingers slid up his thigh and his lips parted as my palm curled around his cock and stroked him to the base. His air hissed out of him, urging me on, and I stroked upward again, sliding my thumb over the head and moving his wetness around.
He took a slow, deep breath, seeking control as he reached outward toward the nightstand and pulled open the top drawer. He took out the condom and ripped it open with his teeth. His hand covered mine for a second, squeezing tighter, doing one last stroke with me before pushing my hand away and protecting us.
I reached up, pulling him down toward me, my back arching into his chest as it brushed mine. But I barely felt the pressure before his head cocked to the side and he declared oddly, "Nope."
"Nope?" I asked, slow-blinking twice.
"Yup, nope," he declared, lifting up and pulling me with him until we were both sitting, me straddling him. "Missionary is for love making. You and me, we're fucking tonight," he declared as his hand went to his cock and the other went to my hip, digging in hard and pulling downward, his cock gliding deep inside me. I dropped my hips, taking him in fully on a throaty moan. "Fuck me, Mina," he demanded, moving backward, his hands settling halfway up my thighs.
And, well, with the desire a sharp, painful need deep inside, there was hardly even a pause before I started riding him- fast, but not overly rough. I half folded over him, planting my hands near his shoulders as one of his hands slid between us and pressed into my clit- just a firm pressure, but with my riding him, there was a perfect friction.
