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When he’s done, I sit back and wait for him to recover.
He stares up at the ceiling for a moment, then drops his head and studies me.
“Yum,” I say.
He narrows his eyes. I lick my lips. He huffs a sigh. Then he looks down at his erection, which is still a good seven out of ten, takes himself in hand, and gives himself a few strokes until it returns to a solid ten out of ten. I hide a giggle at the pun. Ooh, I haven’t been this tipsy for a while. I’m having the time of my life. I probably won’t be able to walk tomorrow, but it’ll have been worth it.
“Sofa,” he says.
I go to get up, but he says, “Stay on your hands and knees, smart arse.”
I bat my lashes. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Don’t think I’m letting you get away with what you did with your finger, without warning, I hasten to add.”
“You said I could do anything I wanted if I crawled over to you.”
“That didn’t include a surprise insertion.”
“Then you should have made the rules clearer.”
He glares at me. “Stop being a brat. Sofa. Now.”
I crawl to the sofa, knowing he’s admiring my butt as I go. “If you didn’t like it, you could have just said.”
He tosses his robe away, gets down to his knees behind me, and knocks my knees apart. “As long as you understand that any transgression gets returned tenfold.”
That gives me uncontrollable giggles. “That’s so you,” I tell him as he positions himself behind me.
“You’re sure you want to mock me right now?” He presses the tip of his erection into me.
I copy his tone. “‘As long as you understand any transgr’—oh!” I stop with a squeal as he plunges into me in one thrust, so deep it takes my breath away.
He sets up a fast pace, pushing me up against the sofa, and I groan and pull a cushion down so I can bury my face in it. He doesn’t stop, filling the air with the slick sound of him inside me, and the smack of his hips against my thighs and butt. Oh holy shit… I lower my hand beneath me to try and help myself along, but he takes it and moves it behind my back. Now all I can do is lie there and let him go at it. That’s so fucking hot…
If it had only taken a minute, I might have been okay, but I think Alex could screw for New Zealand. The man goes on for an eternity. Eventually I can’t hold my exclamation in any longer and mutter, “Ouch!”
He stops immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. You’re giving me carpet burn on my knees, that’s all.”
He laughs, but he says, “You want me to stop?”
“Ah, no…”
“All right, sweetheart.” Instead, he lifts me up and forward so I’m lying on the sofa, then gets on top of me. He slides inside me again, then lowers down. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my neck while he continues to move.
“Mmm… you’re forgiven.”
He slips his hand under my shoulder to find my hand and interlink our fingers, which seems like such a romantic gesture that I have to fight against emotion again. What is it with me and crying lately? It’s this man, who’s hot and sexy and yet strangely tender all at the same time.
“You feel so good,” he murmurs, kissing my ear, my neck, and my back as I pull another cushion down to rest my forehead on. “Are you going to come for me, baby?”
“Mmm… I don’t know… I’m pretty drunk…”
“Aw, baby girl, come on… just relax… let me do all the work…” With his other hand he tugs at my nipple for a while, then slides his hand down under me and finds my clit. “Ah, yeah,” he whispers, “so ready for me.”
His deep voice in my ear makes me shiver. I feel like a woolen sweater that he’s unpicking stitch by stitch. I’m coming apart at the seams, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
