Page 27 of Niall

“Really?”

He smiled, running a finger down my cheek. “Yes. Over two years.”

“Then just you.”

He tossed the condom away.

“Feck yes.”

He bent his head, kissing me. I tasted myself on his mouth, finding it oddly erotic. In a move I didn’t expect, he rolled so I was on top of him, holding me close, his mouth never leaving mine. My chest pressed into his, and I felt his hard nipples push into my skin. Remembering how he had explored me, touched me earlier, I sat up, looking down at him.

“I want to touch you.”

His smile was wide, and he spread his arms. “Touch away.”

I explored his torso, finding his muscles fascinating. They flexed and moved under my fingers. His biceps were bigger than my thighs, and he seemed to like it when I would run my nails over them. He groaned as I sucked his hard, flat nipples, and I liked the low noise he made in his throat when I dragged my fingers across his pelvis.

His legs were strong. Sinewy. Covered in a dusting of coarse hair like his chest. His feet were big like the rest of him and, as I discovered to my delight, ticklish. His bark of laughter made me giggle, and his threats about returning the favor made me roll my eyes. I wasn’t ticklish in any fashion.

I swung my leg over his calves and stared at his erect cock. It was hard under my touch, yet the skin was surprisingly soft. The girth was astonishing, and I felt a flutter of nerves as I stroked it tentatively. Niall groaned, wrapping his hand around mine.

“Like this,” he urged, showing me how to hold him, stroke him the way he liked. I ran my finger along the thick vein on the underside, my thumb rolling over the top, feeling the silky liquid gathering there.

I shimmied closer and bent, licking at the head. Niall arched off the bed, cursing.

“Feck.”

I met his glittering eyes and saw the way he was fisting the comforter. I did it again, this time lowering my head and closing my mouth around him.

I was sure he growled.

I started to move, taking him a little deeper. I had no experience. No idea if I was doing this right. Except Niall was muttering, praising me. Then he buried his hand in my hair and begged me.

“More, Anna. Suck me harder.”

I opened my mouth wider and sucked him in. I twisted my tongue around him as I lifted my head, then repeated the move. He hissed and groaned. Lifted his hips. I kept going, learning quickly what he liked.

Which, it seemed, was everything I tried.

Then he sat up. “Enough,” he panted.

I frowned. “You didn’t like it?”

“Baby, I loved it. But I want to be inside you when I come.”

Then he wrapped his arm around my waist and rolled us. He kissed me, his tongue going deep as he fingered me again. I whimpered, opening to him, and he slipped between my legs. I could feel him, hard and thick, nudging at me. “Tell me you want this,” he whispered.

I gripped his back, running my hand down and cupping his hard ass. “Yes. Make me yours, Niall.”

He lifted his hips, guiding himself inside me. I gasped at the sensation of being filled. He stretched me, patient and slow, his movements controlled. He buried his face into my neck.

“Jesus,” he whispered. “You’re heaven.”

“Please,” I begged. “Niall, please.”

He lifted his head, his intense gaze locking on mine. He eased back and snapped his hips, burying himself completely inside me. I cried out, his size too much. He stayed still, kissing my cheeks, his mouth chasing the tear that fell from my eye and into my hair. He murmured words I didn’t understand, then drew back again, pushing back into me. This time, there was no pain, only a moment of pleasure. I gripped his shoulders. “More,” I breathed.

He rocked into me. Long, unhurried strokes that made me whimper. He kissed me, his tongue mimicking his cock. I felt his hands everywhere. Stroking my back, grabbing my hips, fisting my hair. I wrapped my legs around him, holding him close. He started to move faster, his breathing becoming choppy. Harsh. He held me tight, his movements hitting nerves I didn’t know existed.