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It’s like time stands still. His gaze moves over my face, his thumb smoothing over my jawbone, pleasure so thick and sweet it’s rushing up my spine, clenching my muscles and pulsing beneath my skin.
I roll my hips, a slow, deep circle that shoots a burst of heat up my body and rips a growl from the back of his throat.
“Again.” Both of his hands drop to my ass to guide me around again, his groan pulling a breathy pant from me.
The intensity of his stare, of how tightly he fits. It’s too good, too heady to be rushed. So, I don’t. I grind down onto him in slow, drawn-out circles, savoring every solid inch of him—every shift of him inside me. It’s almost too much, too full, too overwhelming.
His eyelids flutter, his jaw jutting, then clamping shut. I can barely think straight, barely see straight. Heat simmers inside me, winding itself tighter with each rub of my body against his—every extended drag of his skin against mine.
It’s everything I knew it would be.He’severything I knew he would be.
I sink my fingers into his hair and tug his face up to mine, still grinding against him, each breath more ragged, more labored than the next. He bites at my chin. I nip at his tongue. Keep circling, keep thrusting, barely able to kiss through the intensity of the moment. Heat and need and want. It builds from my toes, tingling, pulsing, everything pulling in tighter, brighter. My mouth falls open. His does too. But I don’t stop moving. I keep circling and grinding and, holy shit, he’s rubbing places I have never had rubbed before, touching a spot inside me that has my thighs shaking dramatically, and a flood of pleasure rushing every part of me.
His grip tightens and he works me over him when my movements falter, taking control until there isn’t a part of my body not swelling, and clenching, and climbing higher and faster and harder towards… towards—
—“I’m… holy shit.” I contract vice-like around him, my climax taking hold in the base of my spine, then imploding in a rolling wave so intense even my eyelashes tremble and I’m helpless to stop my body from writhing into his, my nails from sinking into his skin.
He holds me through it, stays buried deep, and hard and massive inside me, crushing me to him, watching my face like it’s the first time he’s seen me.Reallyseen me.
My breathing slows eventually, my soul fluttering back from wherever the hell that orgasm took it. My laugh is astonished, my sight kind of hazy, even my ears are ringing, but when his lips take mine again, nothing could prepare me for the depth of feeling and want and need and downright sinfulness of his mouth on mine, or how his cock, still unwaveringly hard, twitches inside me, or how he maneuvers his big body, spinning us until my back hits the bed, and he’s above me, his elbows planted either side of my head, that unwaveringly hard cock still very much buried deep inside me.
“I’m not finished with you yet.” Jaw tight, he pushes in deeper, grinds himself against me, filling me on the in strokes, but barely retreating on the outstrokes. Perfect, drugging movements, all heavy breathing and rolling muscles and so much skin over skin. It’s intimate. It’s intense. His gaze on my face, the stretch—the almost overwhelming fullness, addictive. The feel of him moving over me, around me, so deep inside me, spellbinding. The scent of his skin, masculine, heady, and so damn sexy—nothing’s ever come close to this. Nothing.
This second wave of pleasure is so thick my mouth opens on a soundless moan, my muscles tightening around him. I sink my fingers into his hair, and my pants pick up in sharpness until I’m arching my body against every one of his drawn-out thrusts. “Don’t stop.”
His breaths come faster but his rhythm stays controlled, solid, unerring, pushing me forward, forcing me higher, brighter, deeper, until I crash over the edge. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I come apart beneath him, more with every instroke, harder with every grind of his hips. It drags a groan from his throat and some sort of animalistic noise from mine I swear I’ve never made before, my core spasming around him, my back lifting off the bed.
“Fuck.” His voice is nothing more than a feral growl, his control finally seeming to snap, todisintegrate. His thrusts get faster, almost savage.His jaw tighter, his gaze blacker. His massive arms link under my knees, spreading me wider so he can get deeper. My name on his lips, his face in my neck, dirty grunts, vibrating against my skin.
It’s earth moving. It’s soul-shaking. It’s so fucking good, I swear parts of me convulse that have never convulsed before. I pull his hair and bite his shoulder. Take it all and give back harder until he’s jerking and cursing and slamming so far inside me, I come all over again, keening, and scratching and clamping down around him like I’ll never let him go.
Sleepy and orgasm drunk. Two things I did not expect to be after the way my day started.
I’ve lost count of how many times he’s made me come. Lost count of the positions and speeds and levels of wow.
Mylo. Jesus in ever-loving hell.Mylocan fuck,and make love, and generally drag each and every type of orgasm ever discovered and then some from me. It’s like he’s read the manual for my body and taken notes.Detailed notes.
Cheek mooshed against his chest, shoulder tucked into his armpit, I trace the edge of his tattoo where it cuts over the left side of his chest, follow the delicate lines of the black and gray rose.
“Hey.” I tilt my face into the solid muscle of his pec, press my lips against the smooth skin there and breathe in his fresh, clean man scent.
“Hey.” His fingers trail up the center of my back, then back down in a lazy path, his chin shifting against the top of my head to press a kiss to my hair. “Thank you.”
“For what?” A surprised puff of laughter escapes me, and I lift up onto my elbow, my forearm still tucked under his massive shoulder as I stare down at his face in the dim light from the lamp on the bedside table. I’m pretty sure it should be me thanking him.
His hair’s a mess, his eyelids lowered as he watches me. “For not leaving.” His jaw clenches tight and he looks to the side, avoiding my gaze, this big, massive man vulnerable—completely unseeing of how I see him. How everybody sees him.
My lips part. “Look at me.” I grab his beard and tug his face back to mine. “Nothing you can tell me about yourself could change the way I feel about you, Mylo.Nothing.”
His mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. “Howdoyou feel about me?”
I snort, roll my eyes, lose my battle to stop an awkward grin from taking over my face. “You fishing for compliments now, big guy?”
The sheets rustle beneath him as he uses the arm not around me to puff up the pillow behind his head. “Humor me.”
I bite my lip, let it pop out from between my teeth and consider it. Really let myself consider it. I could love him. Maybe I already do. It’s not something I’ve let myself think about until now. “Youuuuuu…” I drop my chin onto the back of the hand pressed to his chest. “Have proven to me that the G-spot does in fact exist. As do multiple orgasms, and very, very little down time in between. What’s not to love?”
His laugh rumbles from his chest and right through every layer of my skin, warming me from the inside out like I’m not sure anyone’s has ever done before. He tucks my hair behind my ear and his face sobers. “I should have told you.”
