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Groaning, he kneeled in front of her, pulled her to his mouth, then kissed her pussy. A frisson energized her body again, igniting the same desire she’d experienced earlier. Same? Maybe greedier this time, she thought, as he lapped his tongue lazily between her folds, the tip of his tongue causing short circuits in her body.
Again, she found herself restless, and she motioned to move, but he placed a hand on her stomach, keeping her still and at his full command. God.
Sweat slicked her forehead. She reached behind her head, fumbling until she found the edge of the table and gripped it for her dear life. “Oh, Troy. Yes.”
He shifted from teasingly licking her to complete tongue domination, eating her cream, then instigating more to slick her folds. He rolled his fingers over her clit, already about to explode. Her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she wrapped her legs around his shoulders, desperate to clench her thighs and have some sort of release.
Her silent plea only fueled him to provoke her further. He flicked her clit, his thumb working it ruthlessly. Then, he sucked her pussy, his nose pressing into her intimate flesh, and the moment he lightly squeezed her clit, she lost it.
Another orgasm exploded inside her, this one more powerful than the other. She cried out his name, her voice wavering, her body convulsing as he never let up and fucked her with his tongue, his thumb flicking her clit. She rode his head, grinding.
“Oh, I’m coming again,” she said, as a baby orgasm rode the tail end of her previous one and drilled through her, sizzling all her nerve endings, ravishing her. “God. So good. Aaah,” she mewled.
She relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes, the thoughts in her head foggy and her vision dotted. Then, he scooted her down on the table, and before she had a chance to register what he was doing, he flipped her until she bent over the table.
Her legs were wobbly, her head bobbed forward. The back-to-back orgasms left her disoriented and sticky, but oh so satisfied. Even if she could barely stand upright, she didn’t have to worry for long.
Upright wasn’t an option.
He pressed a hand over the small of her back, motioning her to bend down over the table until her breasts touched the wood. He nudged her thighs apart, and scissored her folds as if making sure she was still wet after all that action. Wet? She was fucking soaked.
He slammed into her, and a jolt went through her. This time, he didn’t prep her like he had previously, always making sure she was pleasured. With powerful strokes, he used her, driving himself in and out of her to his benefit.
He fisted his hand into her hair and tugged it, pulling it back. Her entire scalp tingled, the sensation quickly flitting to the rest of her. Could there be no end to his hot moves?
His groans filled the space, the sound erotic, raw, deep. He pulled her hair again, and she moaned, then rocked her hips into his. He fucked her, plunging and withdrawing, each thrust more powerful than the last. She sank her teeth on her lower lip. Sweat trickled down her face, and her body had already been sensitized after so much that when he pulled her hair one more time then bit her neck, that did it. It flared the building volcano, and she came.
Warmth flowed through her, this time the pleasure taking her to another dimension.
Soon, he slipped out of her then returned—and his growl reverberated through her. He came, and she felt him quivering behind her, his labored breath.
She let her head fall on the table. She was literally flattened and couldn’t move a muscle. She closed her eyes and heard him move, slip out of her, then step out of the kitchen. Had he just left her there, naked and sated?
She sighed. Maybe this was his move after sex—to leave right away so the woman wouldn’t get any ideas. She let her arm droop to the side of the table. A pang of disappointment twinged in her chest, but she willed it away. She’d almost brushed over the most important fact—with him, she’d felt cherished, desired. She’d wanted to have sex and not do it just for doing it.
The sound of footfalls yanked her from her musings, and she cleared her throat, not moving. Then, something soft and warm hugged her. She opened her eyes, and he wrapped her with a blanket and scooped her off the table and into his arms. She wasn’t sure which was worse—if he had left her there or him coming back and carrying her to her room in the sweetest way. Apprehension fluttered in her chest. She definitely knew which option was most dangerous to her heart.
8
Troy closed the door of his en-suite bathroom, returning to the interior of his bedroom.
He finished drying his body, then slipped into pants and a crisp long-sleeved shirt. As he shifted his body, his muscles ached a bit from the previous night’s events. First, how he had to fight Conor’s security guard. Then, having sex with his wife for the first time.
His body went rigid.
Memories from the sultry look in her eyes, how wonderful she felt and tasted…
He reached for his Patek Philippe watch on his nightstand and slid it on.
A gentle knock on his door yanked him from his musings. He opened it, to find a fully clothed Lara staring at him. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” she said, lifting her cup. “I made you some too. Join me?”
“Sure, I’ll be right down,” he said. He glanced at her, his throat suddenly dry and thick. A casual expression softened her features, and her hair fell down her shoulders in loose waves. She wore a cherry-colored lipstick, but no other makeup. She looked… relaxed like someone who had been thoroughly fucked.
Male pride stirred inside him. Would they do it again? They hadn’t talked about the rules of their night together, before or after. Was she acting nonchalant because she wanted to sleep with him again or because she’d rather pretend their kitchen hookup never happened?
She tilted her head to the side. “Actually, we don’t have a lot of time. Remember we’re supposed to meet with the wedding planner? You know, the one who’s helping us with the reception we’re throwing.”
