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He stood, opened his pants and pushed them off his hips. Her gaze slid down the heavy layers of muscle. Chris had the burly bulk of a deep-sea fisherman, a construction worker, a bricklayer. Muscle layered tight and hard on large bones was molded by firm, tanned flesh. She'd seen him shirtless and in shorts in the summer, but it was the first time she'd had the gift of seeing him naked and aroused.
The skin below his hips was lighter. His cock matched his size. It was thick and curved up against his belly, the tip glistening with more fluid. His testicles were a heavy sac against the cradle of his thighs, and bore a light layer of fur, like the rest of him. He was a sexy male animal, one with liquid brown eyes that bore the colors of flame and earth and a young man's lust, powerful enough to fill her with a thrilling fear.
Not a fear that he would hurt her, not that way, but that he would take what he wanted, fuck her beyond exhaustion into euphoria, her link to him the only way to come out on the other side without losing herself. But she'd willingly cut herself loose inside that euphoria, willing to trust everything she knew and loved about him.
"Chris," she repeated. "I need you."
He put his knee between her legs, paused, then slid back off the bed, bending to search in the pocket of his pants. Apparently the belt wasn't the only thing he'd retrieved from his room.
"If you haven't . . . in a while, you won't need that."
She knew she should probably let him wear it to avoid disrupting this with a revelation of a meaningless, or not-so-meaningless, hookup he might have had. But the words were out before she could take them back.
In the semidarkness of the room, the morning light filtering through her blinds, his face was shadowed, though his eyes found hers and pierced deep. "You know," he said with deceptive mildness, "the last time you had a date, Geoff and I played a drinking game where we had to come up with last-letter insults about the guy."
She blinked. In her aroused state, it was hard to switch gears, to follow his meaning and how it connected to this. "What?"
"If I said he had a little dick, Geoff had to come up with the next insult starting with the letter k. If he couldn't come up with something we both agreed wasn't lame, he had to drink. And vice versa."
She coughed over a half chuckle. "Bet it was hard to beat him. He has a pretty extensive vocabulary."
"But I work around contractors all day." Chris's teeth flashed. He deliberately set the condom down on the nightstand and gazed down at her. "Do you remember who that guy was?"
She stared up at him. "I don't even remember his name."
"We do. John Howard. We remember every one of them."
She swallowed. "Who won the drinking game?"
Meditatively, he slid his fingers over her breast as he stood there, naked and erect, less than a foot from her. She gasped as he shifted his grip back to her throat, his hold strong enough to push her jaw up, make her look into his suddenly impassive face, his mouth set in a line.
"I drank him under the table," he said. "Geoff's more civilized than I am, sometimes. I'm just now realizing that."
Her eyes fluttered closed as he bent and put his mouth over hers. His touch on her legs, her breasts, her cunt and her stomach had been questing, sensual. This started that way, but his fingers tightened further, stealing her breath as he parted her lips and invaded, tongue tangling around hers. She whimpered into his mouth, and he growled in answer, shifting so his knee was between her legs and then all of him was, his other hand sliding beneath her buttock to lift her as his cock found her wet entrance.
He didn't thrust into her like a jackhammer. Chris might be less civilized, but he wasn't a beast, and she'd never felt anything from him but care for every cell of her being. Even now, when it was clear he'd shifted from explorer to conqueror, he pushed into her slowly, stretching her, giving her the chance to work her hips over him, help them find their way to the right fit. Yet the moment it was evident they'd achieved that, he took the last several inches with determination, purpose and an impact that told her he was putting his claim right there with Geoff's.
Make her ours. The words resounded in her head as she emitted a little cry against his lips. She turned her face into his hand as he tunneled his fingers through her hair, palm against the side of her face. She set her teeth to the heel of his callused hand as he began to work her, hips rising and falling, her own lifting to his. Her body caught fire instantly, because he'd already brought her up to the point where she couldn't control a single response. He had all the control.
"Chris . . ."
"Scream for me again, Sam. Scream for us. You know he's listening."
She had no choice. The shriek wrenched from her throat as the orgasm hit her like a lightning strike, jolting her body against the power and weight of his. He was able to pin her down, increase the intensity, keep her shooting toward the moon as his thrusts intensified. His face was tight, eyes locked on hers, watching her lose herself in what he could do to her. He gave her the same pleasure, because as her cries escalated, he shot over that edge with her, his seed jetting into her, her legs locked over his pumping muscular ass, her body open and straining to give him every ounce of ecstasy he was giving her. They rode that ride well past the climax, both wanting to milk every ounce of sensation out of it, such that when they came to a stop, they were both breathing heavily.
She pulled against her bonds. "Chris . . . I want to hold you. Please. Don't move yet."
"I'm too heavy." But he stayed where he was and loosened the belt from her wrists, letting her slide free. Her hands immediately found his broad shoulders, the sides of his throat as she stared up at him.
"Please . . . let me hold you. Just for a minute. Please. I've wanted to, for a really long time."
"Ah, Sam." Blowing out a breath, he put his forehead on hers and curled his arms around her as she wrapped hers over his back. They'd done it. Made the first steps. The problem would be where and how to go from here. Sex was the least of it, she was sure. But as he let himself rest on her, that didn't matter. This was everything.
She ran her fingertips down the valley of his spine and out into the corrugations of muscle, up to his nape and the dark hair that curled over her knuckles. With as much time as he spent in the sun, his hair should have been coarse, but it was always thick and silky, burnished like it had captured sunlight in the brown strands.
Though he was softening, she still felt enough of his presence inside her that she could constrict her internal muscles on him, earn another push from his hips as he responded to the aftereffect, a ripple that went through both of them.
"That's enough. I'm going to crush you." He withdrew, but he kept her securely in his arms as he rolled. She shifted to his side so she could lie on her hip and prop herself on her elbow. Indulging herself, she ran her fingers through the hair on his chest, teased his nipples, moving down to his navel and skating through the trimmed hair at his cock. It surprised her that he groomed himself there, rather than letting his pubic hair be an unruly, bushy tangle, but maybe that was Geoff's influence. There was no telling what men did or didn't talk about.
