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“No,” he said brusquely. “My turn now.” He captured both of her hands with his own and tugged them above her head. He yanked the hem of the shirt until it, too, was over her head and her breasts and stomach were bare.
Grant stared at her and an actual growl reverberated through his chest. Bear. Mouth hot on her neck, he released her hands and forced her head to the side. Melinda moaned and dug her fingers into his hair as he kissed, licked, and nipped at her skin. His mouth traveled down to her collarbones, past her necklace to her breasts to catch a nipple between his teeth. She cried out as he attended her breasts in tandem, suckling the right and massaging the left, gripping and squeezing her ass with his other hand. Sensation engulfed her and she was helpless against the onslaught. She tightened and tilted her pelvis, aching for his touch there, but he deliberately ignored her and pressed her into the couch with the flat of his hand.
“Grant...” She struggled to twist her sex against his hand.
“Wait,” he said harshly.
She watched, dazed, as he slid from the couch to kneel on the floor between her legs. Both of his hands slipped behind her back and down to cup her ass. With a squeeze he yanked her hips to the edge of the couch and fitted his body to the apex of her bare thighs. She gasped at the rough intimacy of it, of the fierce heat she felt through his jeans.
“I’ve been dreaming of this since I first saw you,” he gritted out.
“Oh, you mean when you thought I was your friend’s girlfriend?” she teased before she thought better of it.
“You’re damn right.” His hands flew to the buttons of his shirt. “It was hell. It’s one of the reasons I put up that damn divider. I thought you were putting on a show for me, or for him, or for yourself, and I got so jealous I couldn’t fucking think. You were so beautiful.” He tore off his flannel and met her gaze. “You are so beautiful.”
Melinda’s stomach clenched at the rippled musculature of his torso. “I went crazy.” He stared at her for a brief moment, as if assessing her interest. “Enough about Paul.” He slid his fingers into the lace waistband of her panties. “It’s still my turn.”
~
Grant lifted Melinda’s hips and slid her underwear over her thighs, past her knees and then her ankles. And then all she wore was a necklace. For a moment they stared at one another. Grant took in her nude form, sprawled on the couch, dark eyes on his. She was so beautiful it hurt, so perfect it was all he could do to force air into his lungs. She bit her lip and his grip on sanity snapped.
“Mine,” he growled. Grant grabbed her arms and jerked her to a sitting position to crush her mouth to his. One hand molded the small of her back as he kissed her, the other hand sought pillows to wedge behind her. He pulled back to loosen his belt, and she followed his movements with heavy-lidded eyes.
“Get the condom.” He shoved his jeans down his thighs and off one leg as she complied. Melinda tore at the packet but he took it from her, unable to wait. Her fingers circled his sex and he groaned as she rendered him more and more senseless.
“You’re right, this is a glorious appendage,” she whispered, and he laughed, drunk with desperation.
Finally, much too soon, she removed her hand and Grant rolled the condom down the length of himself. He watched, mesmerized, as she guided the head toward her opening but not inside, teasing herself instead. He clenched her thighs.
“Holy shit” was all he could manage.
She smiled slightly, breath faster now, eyes closed. Back and forth over her clit, over her lips, around her opening, she used him as a tool.
Grant tore his gaze away from the erotic dance of their bodies and turned his attention to her face. Her eyelids fluttered, her lips parted, her mouth softened into a lazy O. Her hair was a wild tangle coursing over her shoulders.
“Melinda,” he groaned, and tension gripped his body like a fist. “I can’t wait, please—” He pulled her hips flush to his own to stop her hand, his cock pulsing between them.
“I like you begging,” she whispered.
“I like you making me beg,” he said.
“Your wrists...?” she began.
“Fine. Your head?”
“Fine.”
At last Melinda pressed him into her. “Slow, please,” she whispered.
“My pleasure.” He kissed her. Slowly he drove his hips forward to bury himself to the hilt. His breath left him in a gasp. God help him, she was like satin. Hot, perfectly soft, impossibly tight. He stilled, lost in the sensation of being inside her at last.
Melinda’s fingers clutched his shoulders and, with an exquisite moan, her eyes rolled back in her head. Grant was pretty sure his did, too. He gritted his teeth against the pleasure and withdrew, then pressed forward again. She was silk. She was velvet. She was perfection. He wasn’t going to make it.
Grant gripped her hips and thrust forward again, harder this time, and they both came to life, in search of more sensation, more heaven. She wrapped her glorious legs around his back, dug her heels into his ass and her fingers into his hair as he surged forward in pained pleasure.
Building tempo, building heat, he worked her against the couch cushions as her gasps bounced in time with his movements.
Hell.His movements were moving her farther and farther away from him. Stupid couch, he growled silently, then pulled out of her. Gathering her body to his, he laid Melinda lengthwise on the couch and braced his arms beside her.
