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Apparently, that’s what he’s been waiting for, because a second later his mouth is exactly where I need it. When he slips two fingers inside me, I think I’m going to explode. The pleasure rushes and builds until I can’t stand it, and then I’m coming hard from his touch, from his kisses, from all the things he makes me feel.
It’s all so intense that as I come down, I shiver.
“Cold?” Gage asks.
I’m about to explain, but self-consciousness stops my tongue. What if this is just sex for him? What if there’s nothing mind-blowing about it?
“A little,” I lie. “Don’t worry, though—”
But he’s already across the room doing something with the gas fireplace. A second later, flames spring to life. Outside the world is beginning to get darker, especially with everyone’s lights out. But inside, the flames cast rivers of golden light across Gage’s skin.
My mouth goes dry. I realize as good as it was, that first orgasm barely took the edge off. I’ve wanted him for so long, and now I’m burning with the need to give him everything he just gave me.
On impulse, I stand and peel the dress off, tossing it aside.
“Is that better?” Gage asks, turning to look at me. And then he sees me, and his voice dries up.
I join him on the carpet in front of the fire and start unbuttoning his shirt. His hands find the curve of my waist and tighten. Then he lifts and, a second later, I’m straddling him.
I love how strong he is. I love the way I know he’d never use that strength to hurt me. He can be ruthless, but he knows how to be gentle when it counts.
I shove his shirt off, and my lips find his as my hands explore his chest. He’s so warm and strong as he shudders under my touch. I can feel him hard between my legs. It’s exquisitely hot. Part of me wants to linger in this moment forever.
But the rest of me is impatient.
I fumble with the zipper on his pants. He’s so focused on kissing me, it takes him a few moments to realize what I’m doing. Then we’re both shifting and fumbling to get his remaining clothes off until he’s beautifully, gloriously naked.
Normally I’m more self-conscious the first time I have sex with someone, but Gage is so casually confident, so easy in his own body, that I can’t help but feel confident in my own desires. Confident in what I can do to him.
I trail my hand down his abdomen. His breath gets more ragged the closer I get to his thick, ready cock.
I briefly touch him, then move my hand away again, just to make him groan.
“Please,” he says, the sound so rough it makes me feel deliciously feminine. Feminine and powerful.
I smile cheekily. “I don’t know. Maybe I should make you wait a little longer.”
“Woman, I climbed sixteen flights of stairs for this.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. He’s so adorably grumpy, even when we’re on the verge of sex.
I do him one better than a hand job. I move back just far enough that I can take him in my mouth.
The pleasure seems to take him by surprise.
His head falls back, eyes closed. “Fuck,” he breathes, his hands tangling in my hair. “Fuck, that’s good, baby. Just like that. Just...oh...fuck.”
After that, he doesn’t seem capable of talking.
Until, abruptly, he pulls back. “Stop. I need to...to get myself under control.”
I smile and crawl back over him, my lips brushing against his. “Is that your way of saying you’re ready to fuck me?”
“Christ, yes. But we need a condom.” He looked around like he was suddenly remembering where we were. “Why aren’t we in the bedroom?”
“Because we have good luck with couches.”
“Ah. Right.” He grins, loose and happy. I hardly ever see that expression on him, and it snags at my heart.
