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He impaled her with a finger and she responded with a crooning she’d never given any man before. A second finger joined the first, and as she rode the blissful strokes, all sense of time and place fled, leaving behind—lust. He soundlessly urged her to come closer and took a nipple into his wickedly splendid mouth while his free hand wandered over her spine. He bit her, pushed his fingers higher, and she shattered with a raw, smoky scream. The echoes pulsed for an eternity as he continued the strokes, sucks, and licks. She was still enthralled when he picked her up and whispered, “Now we move to the bed.”
The rest of the night passed with such heat neither cared that the fire had burned low. She pleasured him on her knees, slowly savoring his girth, size, and sharp hisses of lusty response. When he could breathe again, her reward was an oral tribute so erotic, she grabbed fistfuls of the sheet, cried out, and broke into soaring pieces again.
Now he knelt above her and she was so dazzled and overwhelmed by Garrett McCray, she wondered if she should change her name because she was having difficulty remembering who she was. Reaching up, she lightly cupped his jaw before leveraging up to give him asearing kiss. And they began again. Kisses, touches, whispers, sighs. She stroked him with a firm hand. He teased the wet flesh of her core. Breathing hard, she backed away and reached into the drawer of her nightstand and withdrew a sponge.
He asked, “May I?”
She handed it over, and he inserted it with such finesse, her hips rose greedily in invitation. Moments later, their night entered a new realm. He was thick and gloriously hard, and had she the power, he’d stay right where he was for the rest of her days. The pace he set was slow at first, but as the desire rose and their bodies were spurred by desire’s call, the rhythm increased. He gave, she took, until the bed shook and their verbal cries and calls became a lovers’ passionate symphony. Spring couldn’t believe such pleasure was possible, but another orgasm gathered like clouds of a storm, and when the lightning struck and the thunder ripped her apart, she screamed his name.
Roaring, he shattered, too, hips moving like pistons until he had nothing left to give. Slumping forward, he gathered her in and pulled her atop him so as not to crush her. They held each other until their breathing slowed and the world returned.
Later, watching him sleep, Spring admitted that for a woman intent upon walking through life alone, having him in her bed may have been a mistake. He’d left her feeling treasured, desired, something she’d never experienced before. It awakened a long-buried part of herself to the possibility of what could be, and that scared her.
