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She looked up at his face. His brow was knit together as if he was concentrating as hard as he could. She swore he looked like a man who would give her the world if she asked. But what she wanted…what she needed…
“This isn’t…” she tried again. He drew back and buried his cock inside her. “Oh God!”
Her muscles clenched, and pleasure erased everything else. Her world narrowed to Dante. His hands…his cock…and the feeling that she wanted to stay right here, rushing, tumbling, and yes, falling headfirst into this orgasm.
He slammed into her one last time. Then he threw his head back and roared. The low, primitive sound felt like a caress designed to draw her pleasure out until he’d taken everything he needed.
Slowly, his chin lowered to his chest, and he stared down at her.
“You’re going to have to try harder,” she said, finally able to string the words together. His eyebrows shot up, but she pressed forward. “A lot harder. If you want to bore me while you’re inside of me.”
He laughed as he withdrew from her body. She felt his weight lift from the bed—disposing of the condom she’d guess—before sinking back down onto the mattress beside her. “Next time, honey, I’ll let you ride me until you’re bored out of your mind. If that doesn’t do it, we’ll try doggie style with you bent over a chair and holding on—”
“Why wait until next time?” she murmured. She didn’t want this moment cut short with empty promises. What if they didn’t get another night together? What if he was called back even though his knee wasn’t ready for active duty? No, she didn’t want to hold out hope that they could return to this moment, naked and in bed, the pretense of their “SEAL lessons” forgotten in favor of pleasure. She wanted more of Dante Raske—now.
She felt his body shift on the bed beside her. She turned her head and met his gaze. He’d rolled onto his side, and one of his powerful hands now cupped his chin, his elbow pressing into the mattress.
“My recovery time is good, but I’m just a guy,” he said.
“What? Your super SEAL powers don’t extend to your…”
He tipped his head back and laughed. And she felt her cheeks warm. He’d buried his cock inside her, and she couldn’t bring herself to say the word?
“No,” he said as he smiled down at her. “They don’t. This is the first ‘training session’ that has ever challenged my recovery time. Trust me, I’m damn happy about that.”
“Would you like to run some drills?” She pushed her upper body off the mattress. Those words—first and happy—inflated her courage. “With your instruction, I might be able to help you.”
He laughed again. “Honey, if you want to do a little PT, try some sit-ups or run a few miles. I can help, but I’m not sure I’m qualified to teach this.”
“Then tell me what you like.” She slid off the edge of the bed and knelt on the hotel room carpet. He rolled onto his back, and for a second, she worried that he’d call off the lesson, that he’d had enough of her. But then, he shifted to the edge of the bed and rested his feet firmly on the floor. He leaned back on his elbows, his abs on display, and stared down at her.
“Wrap your hand around me and guide me between your lips.” He issued the order in a low, firm voice.
She moved between his legs. Her hands guided his thighs apart and made room for her. She trailed her fingers over his thigh, her gaze lingering on the red angry scar on his knee before following her fingers. Then she obeyed his instruction.
With her lips around his cock and her tongue teasing the head, she glanced up.
Tell me what to do next.
She was out of her element. Her lack of experience with seduction, with men, with blow jobs…suddenly seemed acute.
“Run your lips down to meet your hand,” he said.
She closed her eyes and obeyed. Her world narrowed to this room, the sound of his voice, and the feel of his hardening cock in her mouth. He continued to offer orders, not once laughing at her innocence.
Don’t come too soon. I don’t want this moment to end. I don’t want to lose the sound of your voice. I want to stay right here…
…
Pleasure surged through his dick as Chrissie Tate heeded his words. She’d been so damn tentative when she first wrapped her lips around him, he’d been certain they were barreling toward one helluva disappointing BJ. Not that he gave a damn. He wasn’t naked in a hotel room and traveling down a familiar road labeled “fling” with America’s country sweetheart because she gave good head.
“Harder,” he barked as his control slipped. “With your hand.”
Was he still making sense? The fact that she’d listened and shifted her performance from disappointing to one for the record books had stolen his focus.
Her mouth felt so damn good.
But it went beyond that. She listened. And yeah, they were talking about his dick…but still, she was hanging on his every word, following his instructions like this fucking mattered to her.
