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‘That was seriously awesome.’ Flopping over onto his back, he lay with his arm over his face. ‘You’re incredibly tight.’
She felt he
rself blush, an odd combination of pleasure and acute embarrassment at the intimate comment. ‘Only because you’re so big,’ she said, trying to find the playful tone again.
‘While my ego and I thank you for that...’ he dropped his arm to find her hand and thread his fingers through hers ‘...I’m not that much bigger than the average guy.’
The blush glowed. Maybe it wasn’t just his size that had made him feel so large. Maybe it was because she hadn’t done it with anyone in at least a year. And certainly never with that much energy or enthusiasm.
He turned onto his side, and cupped her cheek, his palm cool against her heated flesh. ‘Has it been a while?’
She blinked, disconcerted by the perceptive comment. ‘Are you a mind-reader?’
He touched her cheek, the tender, curious smile more seductive than the tangy scent of sex that surrounded them. ‘How long?’
She huffed out a laugh, the embarrassment burned away by a new surge of arousal. ‘Far too long, it seems.’
He hooked his thigh over her legs, shocking her when something stiff prodded her hip.
‘Is that...?’ She looked down, stunned to see him hard and ready again still sheathed by the condom.
He lifted her chin, grinning. ‘Yeah, it is.’ The cheeky grin—not to mention his astonishing powers of recuperation—made him seem very boyish. Too boyish.
‘How old are you?’ she asked, before she could think better of it.
His lips tilted. ‘Nearly thirty.’
She propped herself up on her elbows. Good grief, he was still in his twenties. ‘How nearly?’
‘I’ll be twenty-nine next month. Why? You planning to give me a present?’ He cupped her breast, licked at the nipple. ‘I can think of something I’d love to see gift-wrapped.’
‘You’re twenty-eight.’ She scooted back. ‘But that’s...practically a toy boy.’
He chuckled, then grabbed her shoulders and shoved her onto her back, anchoring her in place with one hard thigh. ‘Oh, yeah? So how old are you, then?’
‘I’m thirty-four,’ she said, indignantly.
His gaze drifted over her face. ‘You don’t look it.’
There didn’t seem to be any judgment in the tone, but still she felt...embarrassed. ‘Well, I am.’ Maybe it was only six years but it felt like the wrong six years. ‘Let me up.’
‘Not going to happen, old lady,’ he teased.
She struggled, trying to buck him off, but he didn’t budge. ‘Please, this feels awkward now.’
‘Why? You’re at your sexual peak. And so am I.’
Given the now-prominent feel of his erection, she had to agree. ‘I know, but it feels weird.’
‘It’s not weird, it’s cool.’ He rubbed his shaft against her hip—making it fairly obvious he wasn’t put off in the slightest by her vintage. She looked down at the thrusting erection. ‘Although FYI, I’m not a toy boy,’ he added. ‘You’re a damn cougar.’
A laugh popped out before she could stop it, but cut off when he cupped her sex. His fingers delved, stroking her oversensitive clitoris, the touch light and fleeting but enough to send shock waves of need echoing through her.
She thrust her fingers into his hair as he opened her thighs to position the impressive erection against her entrance. ‘Well, I suppose, if you put it like—’
Grasping her hips, he thrust deep in one long, smooth, all-consuming stroke, stealing her breath and cutting off any more pointless protests.
Oh, sod it.
