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“I hate you.”
I laugh and pull him to me, kissing the smile on his lips. Then I lean in to whisper in his ear, “When we get home, I’m going to strip you naked and fuck you into the next century.”
He grips my cock surreptitiously over my pants and gives it a squeeze. “That’s the idea.”
The cab ride is interminable. We finally arrive at my flat. No sooner is the door closed, then we’re discarding jackets and undoing buckles. We maul each other with our mouths—teeth biting, tongues tangling in a battle of heated need and lust.
I drive him to my bedroom—a suite really, with a fireplace and sitting area—which has remained unused and vacant since Cole Matheson came into my life. My rotating assortment of overnight guests ceased the night I found him on the bridge.I pause our battle long enough to throw the switch on the lamp with a flick of my hand, then we resume tearing at each other’s clothes until we’re naked.
I jerk my chin at the bed. “On your knees.”
My tone is masterful, but inside, I’m quaking with need. Cole gets on all fours, and I climb up behind him. I run my hand through his hair, then down his spine, to his perfect round ass. I move slowly and leisurely as if I’m not dying to get inside him as soon as humanly possible, but the sight of the toy nearly ends me.
“Ambri…” Cole glances over his shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
I reply by bending my mouth and making a slow circle with my tongue over his tight flesh and the toy that stretches it.
He shudders on all four limbs and makes a strangled sound. “Jesus Christ…”
I sink my teeth into his muscled ass, then tongue him again, my hands roaming his back and backside, taking my time.
Cole is panting now. “Ambri, I can’t…”
Neither can I wait one more second. Quickly, I reach into my nightstand drawer that has quite a few more toys and baubles than Cole’s did and find the lube and the condom. Very slowly, I remove the toy, a device of five connected orbs of decreasing size. I toss it aside, then slip on the condom and slick my cock. He’s already primed for me, and I slide inside him in one smooth thrust.
Cole’s head bows between his shoulders and he struggles to remain on all fours. I’m just as undone, my thighs trembling at how impossibly good he feels, how tight, how bloody perfect.
I move slowly at first, gripping his hips and then running my hand along his spine and up into his hair. I make a fist and pull his head back, my other hand holding him still while I take him.
“Yes…” he grits out. “Fuck, yes…”
Hisdesire spurs me on, and I move faster. Harder. I want to give him everything. I want every sound he’s making, every strangled breath and every cry of ecstasy to come only from me.
And I don’t want to give myself to anyone else but this man who has completely infiltrated my entire existence.I need more of his skin on mine, so I pull him higher, his back to my chest. The new angle elicits a pleasured cry from his throat.
“Ambri…ah, fuck. I’m going to come all over your pillows.”
“Do it.”
He grips himself in one hand, braces his other against the headboard. I reach to wrap my hand around his so we’re both stroking his cock as my thrusts drive deeper and harder, our flesh slapping together. He makes another beautiful cry of ecstasy and comes all over my Italian silk pillow.
“So good,” Cole groans. “Fuck, you feel so good in me.”
I grit my teeth because his words want to bring me to the brink, and I want to stay in him forever. Cole reaches an arm around to take a fistful of my hair. He cranes his mouth to mine, and we kiss as best we can while I am pistoning into him.
Finally, I can contain myself no longer. The release crests in me and then breaks like a wave. I grip his hips tightly and come in him. Every nerve ending, cell, and sinew in my body vibrating and my awareness coalescing only to the place where we’re joined and the perfection of it. The rightness of it.
I am ruined…
I slump over him and kiss his back before gently withdrawing and rolling to my side. He tosses the soiled pillow to the floor and does the same so we’re facing each other and kissing again.
We kiss for long moments, and then we lie quiet, saying nothing. He brushes a lock of hair off my brow, and the gesture threatens to undo me with its simple intimacy.
I climb out of bed to clean up and return to find him dozing.
“I can’t keep my eyes open,” Cole says from behind closed lids. “You fucked me into the next century. Time travel is tiring.” I roll my eyes and he laughs tiredly. “I saw that.”
Psychopath that I am, I watch him sleep. When I know he’s deep under, I lean over and kiss his forehead. Because I can’t tell him he’s precious to me. The words stick in my throat, mired in the fear that it’s too much, too good. Thislifewe’re building is too good, and I’m afraid if I speak it, it will blow away in the breath it takes to say the words.
