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He felt amazing.
The heavy weight of his body, the way he stretched and filled her, the gentleness of his hand as he cupped her cheek right before he planted a mind-blowing kiss on her lips. She kissed him back with fervor and they both started moving, their bodies syncing almost immediately. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt. It was languid, sensual, erotic and gentle all at the same time.
The man knew what he was doing. He was skilled and practiced—a sex god. He knew just when to pick up the pace or slow down until he had her right at the edge. And he brought her to that point over and over until she was begging for release.
“Not yet. I want to feel you for as long as possible,” he said.
“Possible is here.” She arched against him. “And here.” She arched again, squeezing her core to create more friction. “And here.”
She could feel him smile against her neck. “How about here?”
He gave a deep thrust and she cried out in pleasure. The next time he came down on her, she gave a twist of the hips and he was the one crying out. Game time clearly over, he got down to business with a focus and determination that left her breathless.
They met each other thrust for thrust and before she knew it, she was experiencing her very first vaginal orgasm—and, holy smokes, she’d been missing out. Her entire sex history was erased in a single man-made orgasm. Because that’s what Lucas was—a man.
She felt him tighten inside her and then he joined her, groaning out her name and pumping all the way through their release. When she opened her eyes, he was lying limp over her, like a snuggly comforter. His face burrowed into the curve of her neck, her hands on his ass, their legs twisted like a pretzel.
“Was that what you imagined?” she mumbled.
He lifted himself up. “Even better.”
“Me too.” She smiled and he dazzled her with a smile back. “Once more?” she asked.
Chapter Seven
Take Life by the Balls
Claim that morning-after
crown proudly.
Milly was a peeper.
She couldn’t help it. When she woke up next to a lightly snoring sex god, with the sheets hanging a scant inch from his flagpole—which was at full mast—leaving everything else visible, she snuck a peek. A long peek. Okay, she out-and-out ogled the guy.
But with his body on glorious display who could blame her. His messy, dark hair was standing on end, one arm was around her waist, the other holding her right butt cheek as if he owned it.
Always interested in the Laws of Attraction, Milly skated a finger down his chest, watching in fascination how the muscles rippled and bunched. His breaths, which rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, deepened whenever she touched him.
Knowing that this would be the only time she’d be able to look her fill, she explored the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the sheets. The man was built like some kind of Scottish warrior preparing for battle. She looked up to make sure he was still sleeping and lifted the covers and, yowza, ready for battle indeed.
Sure, she’d seen it last night. But not like this. Not when she had the luxury of admiring its beauty. This felt voyeuristic and a little naughty. And, if she were being honest with herself, naughty had never felt so good.
Naughty Milly had sex with Lucas Macintyre.
Lucas Macintyre!
That was a Take Life by the Balls–worthy adventure if she’d ever heard one. But now what? She’d never had a one-night stand and didn’t know what the exact so-we-boned-three-times etiquette was. What was one supposed to say after a night like that? To her recollection, one-night stands were supposed to be gone by the time she woke up. Even her last boyfriend rarely stayed the night.
This was new territory for her. But new didn’t have to mean bad or scary. New could be exciting and liberating if she chose. And she chose. She wasn’t going to let uncertainty creep in and ruin her post-orgasmic glow. She was going to celebrate it—by pulling out a piece of paper and writing Have Sex with Lucas Macintyre down just so she could tick off the box.
Huh, she’d have to write it down three times, since he was a three-time champion. She picked up her pillow and took a whiff, her eyes closing as the scent of fresh sweat and sex filled her nose. She took another sniff, this time putting an image to the scent. It was intoxicating.
She dropped the pillow and, in her sex-drunk state, went back to cataloging every inch of the male masterpiece lying in her bed. Her bed!
“Do you want your camera to take a picture?” a sleep-roughened voice asked.
Milly dropped the pillow like it was made of acid, then froze. She’d been caught snooping around his sword.
