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His fingers constricted on her wrist, telling her he was all for that, but regret flashed through his eyes. "I'll have to make a trip across the street to that Quikstop we passed."
"No, you won't. You had a box of condoms in your glove compartment. I put it in my purse. Aren't you glad I'm nosy?" She tilted her head toward her pinned arm. "You going to keep holding onto me like that?"
"Maybe." He bent and put his mouth to her throat. As she turned her face away to expose her neck even more to him, he bit, making her draw in a shuddering breath. She pressed up against him, breasts and taut nipples rubbing against the coarse hair on his chest. He gripped her other wrist, holding her pinned on both sides.
"Trying that topping thing this morning?" she asked in a deceptively lazy tone, though her pulse kicked up, a warning.
He shook his head. She wasn't sure he knew what he was doing or why, but she waited him out. He was staring at the way his fingers looked curled around her wrists.
"You're so delicate."
She snorted. "That's the last thing I am. I..." She stopped as he looked down at her, his expression switching to something else.
"Don't be afraid," he said.
In a heartbeat, he'd moved and flipped her. He had her arm behind her back, holding her firmly in place. His knee was pressed firmly between her legs, his thigh against her buttocks. His other hand was on her wrist, which he'd angled to make it impossible for her to move unless she wanted to break bone, similar to how she'd put him on his knees the night with Siren. When she tested it, the sharp stab of pain made her suck in a breath and him speak.
"Don't move. It only hurts if you move." He bent and kissed her between her shoulder blades, moving up to her nape, his mouth dwelling there to nip and caress, suck. She wasn't liking the hold, but she tried to relax, enjoy the sensations he was giving her while she figured out what the hell he was doing.
His grip tightened. "It's that easy," he said. "I could break your wrist with little effort. One punch to the face, and I could break your neck." He stretched out on her full length, some of his weight held on his knees, but his cock beneath the jeans pressed against her buttocks. He shifted to hold her wrists in a normal way, extending her arms out to either side like wings. He pressed his chest to her back. His breath was heated on her neck. "But you can break me with a word, or a look. It makes me not trust myself with you. But you do."
"Yes." Relaxing, she closed her eyes as he nuzzled her cheek, kissed her neck again. "Be inside me like this. Take off the jeans, get the condom out of my purse."
He obeyed, the mattress depressing under his movements as he left the bed. She drew a deep, calming breath, listening to the rustle of clothing, the tear of foil, as he complied. She'd left her hands where they were intentionally. When he returned, he clasped her wrists again. She lifted her hips, accommodating him, and he slid into her slick tissues. He let out a soft oath. "I wasn't expecting you to be that wet."
"I woke up and saw you. That was enough to get me started. But don't get too used to that. I'll still expect foreplay."
His chuckle vibrated against her, a heavy rumble, as if it were still weighed down by his
thoughts. "Yes, Mistress."
He stroked inside her, slow, easy, the two of them in no hurry. Somewhere along the way his grip became a hold, not a pin, his fingers caressing her pulse points and forearms. When the climax came upon him, he held himself back, sliding a hand beneath her to stroke her clit. "Come first," he urged. "I want to hear you. I love hearing you."
Since it sounded more like a request than a demand, she obliged, and he followed behind her, a spinning, dizzying, intense but soft, morning lovemaking.
They breathed slow and deep together in the aftermath. He turned them to spoon, only he was behind her this time, his arms wrapped around her, breath on her neck. A couple of times last night she'd woken to find him in that position, a possessive arm around her waist, his body curled as protectively around her as she'd been around him when they first went to sleep. Yeah, he did have some of that in him. A sign that he wanted something for himself. It was a good sign.
They indulged another short doze until the smell of the coffee teased her senses. But she wasn't ready for him to move yet.
"I want to adopt a dog," he said. "But I don't want to screw it up."
She tilted her head toward him, her temple brushing his jaw. "You're such a puzzle," she said, but she put a smile in her voice. "Have you been thinking about this for a while, or just now?"
"Yes and no." He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deep and giving a pleased growl when she stretched against him, rubbing her backside against his cock. "Fuck, that feels good. Will you do it again?"
"Since you asked so nicely..." She savored her own reaction when he fondled her breasts, stroked the nipples. Just a pleasurable, playful aftermath. "Tell me about the dog."
He curved his arms back around her, one over her breasts and one around her waist, holding her so close to him, like he didn't want to let her go, even for an inch of space. She didn't deny him, not right now. But he was going to get his ass out of bed and bring her coffee soon.
"When I was little, I wanted a pet, but he said no. I didn't know why...until. Then, after he went to jail, the shadow went to be with her sister. She handed me over to her second cousin in Miami for a few years. He had a spare bedroom and said if I helped with household chores, I could stay there until I was old enough to be on my own without social services coming after him."
If his best relative was a cousin who grudgingly took in an adolescent for the free labor, Regina needed to have a talk with the powers-that-be about letting a kid be born under such an unlucky star. But she put that aside to hear the rest of the story.
"He had a dog, a chocolate lab named Ricky. I didn't ever pet him, because...animals just don't take to me. But sometimes he'd come lay outside my room at night when Fisher went to work second shift. It was cool. I'd watch him and think about touching him. His ears looked so soft. I liked how he'd pile on the couch with Fisher and they'd hang out together."
He propped up on an elbow as she turned onto her back. Sliding a finger along the outside of her breast, he cupped it, seeming to like the act of simply holding it, his fingers moving in a slow knead that sent tendrils of arousal back down between her legs. They'd be having sex again before they left the room, she was sure of that. At this rate, they'd probably fuck themselves to death by noon checkout.
"Well, boys and dogs are a lot like girls and horses," she observed. "They naturally gravitate together. Maybe you need to ease into the adoption thing, see what your options are in the right environment. Ever been to New Orleans?"
