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Again she withdrew to get more gel. The bottle must be near empty by now, he thought. Then all thought ceased as her arms came around him, and she covered his pecs with her hands.
“
I like the hair,” she whispered, tweaking it.
“Yeah?”
“Um-huh. Just the right amount.”
After her thumbs glanced his nipples, her hands took a sinuous, crisscrossing, slippery course down his torso, over ribs and abdomen, past his navel, until her fingers slid down the channels above his thighs where they met at the base of his cock.
Christ. He didn’t want to beg.
He didn’t have to. Her hands took turns forming silky fists around him, one massaging upward and moving off, only to be outdone by its alternate that followed just behind. When he didn’t think he could withstand any more, one hand didn’t slide off at the tip. It stayed. Fingers dripping lather made teasing rotations around the crest, over it, again, as though testing its tautness, and then something wicked was done to the slit.
Through clenched teeth, he strangled out, “When.”
He turned around and hauled her against him. He tried to pause and register all the incredible sensations that holding her wet and naked against him induced, but his brain was functioning on a more primitive tier.
He gathered up a handful of her hair and pulled her head back, tilting her face up to his. He looked into her eyes, then covered her mouth with his. It was a ravenous kiss. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she was as hungry.
He skimmed her breast with his palm, then claimed it, reshaping it, lifting it as he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. With each tug, she whimpered in pleasure and clasped his head to hold him to her.
He skimmed her front, marveling over the feminine curves and hollows, the incredible softness of her skin. Briefly he entangled his fingers in the hair between her thighs, then parted the soft flesh beneath.
She was slick and pliant around the fingers he pressed into her. When he began stroking, her head dropped forward against his chest. He felt the scrape of her teeth against his pec. With urgency, she reached down and closed her hand around his erection.
“Talia,” he gasped, pushing her hand aside and withdrawing his fingers from her. “This is going to be some fever-pitch fucking. If we attempt it in this shower, we’ll be the next two patients in the emergency room. Let’s get in bed.”
Dazed, she nodded.
He gave himself a fifteen-second rinse, turned off the taps, and helped her out of the stall. He yanked a towel off the bar and handed it to her, then took one for himself. They haphazardly dried themselves as they stumbled into one of the bedrooms. His, he thought, although he didn’t know for sure and didn’t care. It had a bed.
He flung back the covers, then sat down on the edge, placed his hands on her bottom, and pulled her between his spread legs. Leaning into her, he rubbed his face against her breasts, touched his tongue to her nipples, flicked it over the occasional freckle and imagined it melting in his mouth like a speck of raw sugar. He nuzzled her middle and swirled his tongue over her navel. Moving lower, he breathed out through his lips into the damp curls.
She spoke his name in a husky whisper.
He turned her and guided her down until she was lying on her back, arms at her sides, hands at shoulder level, palms up. Taking her up on the invitation he saw in the unresisting pose, as well as the look in her smoky eyes, he knelt, opened her thighs, and kissed her with utmost intimacy, his tongue doing as his fingers had minutes earlier. He took tender love bites, applied gentle suction, tantalized her with erotic play, and only then exposed that most vulnerable spot.
Her body jerked in reaction to the first sweep of his tongue, then she began moving in response to and in anticipation of each fluid caress. They increased in frequency, the carnal friction intensifying with each one until she was arching up for more, then more, and more, until an orgasm seized her. He stayed with her, whisking his lips against her, murmuring her name, until the final aftershock shuddered through her and she lay still.
He levered himself up and above her—and was shocked to see tears sliding down her temples into her hair. She reached for him, grabbing at him until their mouths were melded and he had pushed into her.
But he went only far enough to secure himself just inside. There he waited, wanting to commit to memory this moment of feeling her around him for the first time. Then he continued pressing into her until he was solidly imbedded.
She hugged him to her tightly, and it was fantastic, but he had to move or he was going to die. He buried his face in her hair. “If I get too rough, slow me, stop me. I want…I want…Oh, God…”
The mating instinct took over. In spite of his best intentions, his strokes became faster and stronger. A slight shift in his position enabled him to reach deeper, and he did. God, did he.
“Don’t hold back,” Talia said on a near sob, lifting his head from the crook of her neck so she could look into his face.
He kissed her again and continued kissing her until he couldn’t focus on anything except the orgasm that rocked her and caused her to bow her back and clench around him. That was his undoing. Grafted to her, he came in a burst of light.
Drowsily she said, “Moving to the bed was a good idea.”
“One the best I’ve had lately. I might have irreparably injured us in that shower stall.”
“It would have been worth it.”
