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It was like being submerged in pure ecstasy. She let herself become lost in him, this time, in ways she hadn’t allowed that first tentative night. The night she had thought she had lost him forever.
Tonight, she would take everything she could get from him. Tonight she would give him everything she
had to give.
Her hands stroked from his shoulders, over his chest, to his hard abs. The feel of his hard muscles overlain with tough, sun-darkened flesh was like a narcotic to her senses. It infused the passion roiling through her and built the need for more higher, hotter inside her.
She could feel the heat of that need, that hunger as it spread from her sex, dampening the folds of flesh as it sensitized them.
Her clit ached. The swollen bundle of nerves felt too tight, too hot. The need for relief was like a biting inferno she couldn’t seem to assuage.
“Sweet love,” John groaned, that little bit of accent breathing against her ear and sending shivers racing down her back. “How I love your touch.”
His lips raked down her neck, his teeth nipped at flesh so sensitive that each caress brought her to her tiptoes and had a hoarse cry tearing from her throat.
She needed him. Needed him until she wondered if she could survive it. Needed him until it was like a conflagration burning through her body.
One hand slid lower, her fingers searching for and finding the heated length of his cock as it pressed high against her belly. Thick and iron-hard, throbbing beneath her touch, the silken flesh was like a flame in her hands.
“Damn.” He breathed hard against her ear as her fingers stroked along the shaft. “Sweet mercy, love, you’ll have me coming in your hand if you keep this up.”
She nearly came in his arms at the rough statement whispered against the sensitive flesh of her neck.
“Then you’ll just have to try to do it right the second time,” she panted, a smile tugging at her lips as his chuckle echoed against her flesh.
“Think I’d get it right the second time?” His hand moved from her waist then, curled against her hip, then pushed between their bodies to find the flesh beyond.
“Oh God.” Her head fell back, her hips arched against his touch as his fingers slid into the narrow slit and rubbed delicately against her clit. “I think we’d try the third time just to be sure.”
“Practice makes perfect?”
She would have answered him. She would have come up with half a dozen smart-assed remarks if he hadn’t chosen that moment to press his finger into the tight, clenched entrance of her pussy.
“John.” His name was a cry of demand as her thighs parted farther and she felt her juices easing along his finger, lubricating her more, increasing the pleasure tearing through her.
It was wild, the way the sensation thundered through her, throbbed in every beat of her heart, and kept her on a ragged edge of desperate hunger.
She needed his touch now, soaked it in with a desperation born of the reality of loss and being found again. It was wrapped in joy, speared with pain, and through it all was a hunger she had never forgotten. A hunger she couldn’t eradicate from her soul.
“Touch me,” she whispered, the need pouring through her, ripping at her. “Oh God, John. Touch me.”
Though how he could touch her more, deeper, or better than he was, she had no clue.
Then he did. His lips nudged against hers, rubbed against them, then opened them in a kiss so deep, so filled with wicked sensual hunger that it seemed to explode inside her.
She was on the verge of begging. The fingers of one hand stroked at the long, thick length of his cock as her hips writhed against the finger plunging inside her. First one, then a second, filling her, stroking inside her and caressing flesh rioting with such extreme sensation that she was shaking with near rapture.
The pad of his palm pressed against her clit, sending lightning bolts of fiery pleasure to tear through her nervous system.
She felt poised within the heart of a flame. Her vagina clenched around his fingers, fluttered against the rapid strokes that filled her, stretched her.
Five years was a hell of a long time to survive without touch, without affection. To exist within a void that was filled with nothing more than a memory.
She relished each touch now and reached for more. Her fingers stroked the hardened length of his cock, weighed the heavy sac beneath, and caressed him as she never had before.
“Baby, you’re destroying me,” he groaned.
She didn’t care. He’d already destroyed her.
