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God, his eyes. As green as the grass outside, as tumultuous as the waves lapping against the shore under the bridge. So much passion there. As much as was contained in his talented hands every time he sat behind a piano.
Or moved in front of her to kneel at her feet, picking up her leg to anchor it on the carved chest at the foot of the massive bed. He cupped her mound, groaning at the wetness she knew had to be coating his palms. Looking down at him, she went for broke and cupped her breasts, bolstered by his racking breath. She plucked her nipples, biting her lip to stop the sounds so close to the surface. They were in a proper hotel. She couldn’t go around screaming in the middle of a weekday afternoon—
“Oh yes you can,” he said in his gravelly voice, as if he’d heard her every thought. Perhaps she’d given them voice. “You’re going to share everything with me.” He kissed the inside of her splayed thigh, easing down to bite the flesh she forever rued. Not here. Not with him. “Every sound, every taste, every drop.”
He peeled apart the drenched lower lips, pressing two fingers inside her with a swiftness that made her clutch her breasts. Still watching her, he lapped at her stiff clit with just the tip of his tongue, directing the pressure exactly where she needed it as his fingers pumped. In and out, over and over.
She threw back her head and shut her eyes against the streaming brightness. Even in the dark behind her eyelids, everything was too bright. She squeezed her breasts, harder than she had before, and he groaned and redoubled his efforts. It wasn’t two fingers inside her now but three. Opening her up, stretching her for his cock. Moving in and out of her so noisily, her wetness making the gesture so dirty. So erotic.
Widening her stance, she let go one of her breasts to palm the back of his head, pulling him in deeper. Unashamed to show him exactly what she needed. Gratified beyond belief at his low moan over her flesh as she rose up on her toes.
He swapped his fingers for his tongue, sliding it into her so silkily that she couldn’t hold back. Her belly fisted, the pressure building just before it exploded. She cried out and dragged him up by his hair, falling to her knees in front of him and covering his wet mouth with her own. Desperately, she kissed him as her orgasm ebbed, the taste of herself on his tongue causing the pulsations to go on and on.
Or it was his talented fingers slipping between her damp thighs again to stroke her sensitive clit. “Come again,” he said between kisses as he rubbed her, and she couldn’t have denied him a single thing.
Especially not this.
She broke free to suck in air while she ground herself shamelessly into his hand. She was so many years behind. So much for her to catch up on. So many orgasms she’d missed.
He was determined to help her make up for lost time.
His thumb parted her and she arched, opening up for him as he nudged it inside. The ridge of calluses on his skin stroked her just right and she gripped his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life while her body spun out for him. All over again.
The aftershocks hadn’t even ended before she was reaching for the hem of his thermal, hauling it up to see his happy trail of fine blond hair and darker brown. She went to work on his button and zipper, pulling them down so she could caress his hot, hard length, tucked against his belly. He hissed at the swipe of her thumb over the head, collecting all the pre-cum she was eager to taste.
When she would’ve gone down on all fours and sucked him off right there on the floor, he grasped her elbows and pulled her up. “Bed,” he gritted out and she had to admit that was a very good plan.
She yanked back the sheets on the huge King and climbed up, situating herself against the pillows so she was in prime position for his striptease. He didn’t move for a moment, his gaze roaming her body, and she reached down to cup her breasts again to hopefully give him some inspiration.
“Your turn to get undressed,” she breathed, hoping she sounded seductive.
He rubbed his wrist against his mouth as he stalked closer to the bed. He kicked off his boots, then fisted his hands at his sides. “Jesus, Lo. Your tits are so fucking beautiful. I love when you touch them. Touch your pussy for me. Please.”
Her shock at his naughty words soon disappeared in a rush of warmth. She still wasn’t used to hearing them, but God, she loved the way he sounded when he was turned on. Pushed past his civility to the honesty beneath.
Biting her lip, she slid one hand down over her stomach to the apex of her thighs. She could do this. For him, she’d summon her courage. It wasn’t much different than cupping her breasts.
Even if it felt that way.
She slid her fingers over the curls that he didn’t seem to mind and lower to toy with her swollen folds. She was so wet that dragging her fingers down her slit left them glistening. On the return pass, she couldn’t stop a shudder. Her clit was so sensitive that even a breeze would’ve made her quake. But instead of drawing her hand back, she followed the cues of his intent expression and slipped her finger lower, delving inside. All the way in so that she had to lift her hips for better access. He grunted and locked his hands behind his neck, tipping his head back long enough that she could openly check out his erection.
All systems go. She might’ve felt a little awkward doing this, but he was loving it. And that was all the encouragement she needed.
She pushed in a second finger and spread her legs farther apart for him. Wanting him to see everything. Rocking her hips, she let her lashes lower as she imagined him on his knees before her again, all that soft blond hair caught up in the messy man-bun that she insisted on wrecking with her greedy hands.
His grip on her ankle had her eyes flashing open. “Make yourself come again,” he murmured, staring fixedly between her legs. “I want you soft and wet for me.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded and fought to keep her legs apart. She would deliver this for him. He’d opened himself up for her earlier—albeit in a much different way—so she could do this.
She could do it.
She scissored her fingers inside her channel, chasing the pleasure already lazily spinning in her belly. It was so much harder when she had to get herself off. She’d never been able to in the past. But now she had his tricks, the little ways to hook her fingers and change the angle so she reached that magical spot that swelled under her touch deep inside. Biting her lip, she circled her hips, letting out a gasp at the wetness coating her strokes.
The sounds her body was making were nearly obscene. And he was riveted, his grip on her ankle one more chain in her arousal.
She would come for him. Even if he wasn’t touching her, this was his as much as it was for her.
Stretching her thumb up to stroke her clit, she tried to mimic his earlier touches. Alternating the rhythm with her thrusts inside. Getting so close. The web of arousal tightening, tightening. Her natural instinct was to drop her hand away at the first spasms, to back off on the intensity. Then his hand was there, holding her wrist steady as he watched her fuck herself.
