Once she’d collapsed onto the mattress, he wiped his mouth and beard with the back of his hand and knelt between her limp, spread legs, his stare hot with lust and self-satisfaction.
Holy crap. He was still fully dressed.
For that matter, if she flipped her skirt back down, so was she. But doing so would take energy she didn’t currently possess, and since he’d just had that entire handsome face buried in her pussy, covering herself seemed somewhat pointless.
He stroked a possessive palm up one thigh. “Still up for more?”
She was sweaty and spent, but she wanted his cock inside her. The one straining at the placket of those fancy pants, the one she’d had stretching her mouth last night.
It was as hard and hot and perfect as he was.
Earlier, she’d imagined him above her for their first time. But that was before he’d taken her apart twice in the space of half an hour, and she intended to return the favor.
“I want on top.” She lifted herself up on one shaky elbow. “If that’s fine with you.”
He grinned wickedly, giving himself a firm stroke through his pants. “If you want to ride my cock, rest assured, Wren: You never have to ask.”
His smugness would cease once he was inside her. That was a vow.
“Take off your clothes, then.” Her fine motor skills weren’t the best right now, so she merely nodded in the direction of the nightstand. “And put on one of those condoms.”
He undressed slowly, tauntingly, one button at a time, his heavy-lidded gaze on her body.
Since she’d already come twice, she’d need some help getting there again, and he appeared entirely too calm. Raising her left knee and sliding her right leg to the side, she reached over the mound of her belly and stroked herself with two fingers.
She knew her body, what rhythm and pressure worked for her. Within a minute, she was panting a little, rocking against her own fingers.
In response, he wrenched his shirt over his head before it was fully unbuttoned, his chest heaving, and smacked himself with the end of his belt when he whipped it out of the loops too fast.
“Fuck,” he groaned, rubbing the reddening spot on his shoulder, but he didn’t look away from her fingers between her legs, and he didn’t stop unfastening his pants with his other hand. “That was your fault, Wren. You and those filthy, filthy, amazing fingers on your clit.”
She shrugged, pitiless. “That’s what you get for being a tease.”
He tugged down his pants and boxer briefs in one movement, and she stopped touching herself to watch him kick away the garments.
She’d seen him naked yesterday, but she still couldn’t get over it. Those gleaming swaths of golden skin. That lean frame punctuated by his broad, muscled shoulders, and round, taut ass. That thick cock, ruddy and twitching against his flat belly as he smoothed a condom over it.
With one agile leap, he was on the bed and crawling toward her. Then he pressed her into the mattress, his body heavy and hot atop hers, his tongue slick and sliding against her own.
He didn’t taste like mint anymore. He tasted like her.
His palms slid along her hips, over her belly, until he was cupping her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly. He bent his head and took one in his mouth, flicking his tongue until she was gasping and aching again. His roaming hands cupped her ass and squeezed, and she squirmed against him.
Enough foreplay. She wanted him inside her.
At the slightest pressure of her hand, he rolled off her and sprawled on his back. She straddled his hips, and he held his cock ready.
He was too thick to simply slide down in one movement, so she sank down an inch at a time, his dick stretching her wide.
His fingers were hard on her hips, and he pressed his head into the pillow, flushed, his jaw jutting with strain. But he didn’t thrust upward, and he didn’t try to control her pace. He panted instead, rasping outfuck, holy fuck, Wren, fuck,while she took him.
Then he was seated fully inside her, so deep she had to rock her hips a little, just to know how it would feel, and—oh. Oh, yes.
He purred out one of those sinuousahhhhhhhhs and reached for her breasts, cupping them, plucking her nipples, flicking them until the sensation bolted straight to her clit.
Maybe he’d prefer if she rose and fell on him, but that gentle rock of her hips, that little surge back and forth, felt so good. She did it again and again, her hands braced on his shoulders, until her eyes closed at the way he pressed and slid inside and against her.
“Shit, Wren.” He pinched her nipple harder, and she jerked against him. “Your pussy is so hot, and the way you’re squeezing my dick—”
