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It’s slow and easy. My fingers coated with her arousal work in and out until she’s begging for me to make her come. Roaming my hands over her body, I spread her legs so they’re hanging off the sides. With candlelight flickering, I gaze on her glistening flesh.
“Oh, yes. Yes,” she pants until my tongue has coaxed her first orgasm.
Furiously, I rid myself of my clothing and climb on top of her. Her stomach is on the table, and I have nowhere to brace myself. I’m going to make love to her in a way I’ve never done before. I reach underneath the table, feeling for something to hold onto, so Brooke doesn’t have to bear all my weight.
I slide into her wet center. Fuck, she feels like happiness. An emotion I’ve rarely felt. I push on the metal hook, and the table collapses. Our bodies fall to the ground, and I bounce on top of her as the table tries to fold up.
“I’m so sorry,” I say with my dick still inside her. “Are you hurt?”
“No, but don’t leave me hanging.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
BROOKE
As he rolls off me, I lose the warm feeling of him being inside me. We move to the bed to continue having sex in the most romantic way. Lying on my stomach, he slides both arms underneath me, one hand on my breast, and the other presses on the sensitive spot above my folds. He circles and presses as his erection glides in. Every stroke prolongs to intensify the pleasure. When he’s all the way in, he mumbles constant praise, “My good girl, always sucking me in.”
We share this moment with the cold embrace of winter outside the glass doors, and I find myself irresistibly enticed by the passion that radiates from within him. There’s an unspoken connection, a captivating aura that makes me long to uncover the depths of his soul. It's as if his presence alone ignites a fire within me, a desire to experience life's adventures by his side.
He moves his hand to my waist, tugging me upward, driving so deep, I can’t catch my breath. Our bodies rock, rhythmic and slow, creating a sheen of sweat on his stomach and my back.
Even though I can’t see his eyes, this seems more intimate than anything I’ve experienced.
Maybe it’s the words he whispers over my ear on his upstroke. “Perfect… Never want to let you go… So wet.” Or maybe it’s how he pinches my center on the downstroke. Regardless, I’m one hundred percent positive I could look forever and never find a man who could please me as sexually as Reed.
I push my butt back so that he’s balls deep inside me and swirl my hips. My breasts press into the comforter. My legs shake, and my core clenches.
“Hold on, baby. I promised you the galaxy.” I squeeze my eyes as my toes curl. “You’re fucking everything.”
I shimmy my hand underneath my body and hold his wrist while his fingers work me, and his length seems to grow inside me. “I need… need to…”
The aroma of the essential oils combines with our sweat, creating the most intoxicating scent. A deep, primal growl reverberates from recesses of his soul. I push my head back against his shoulder as he bites my neck, and we rocket into another world filled with spattering clusters of intense colors, clear brilliant stars in the distance until we fall in the black abyss. “Ummm.”
Reed’s body blankets me, and I couldn’t move if I wanted to. And if I died right now, this would be the best way to go—in the arms of a man who makes me feel special and safe.
We lie in bed, catching our breath. He draws on my stomach.
“I made a mess.”
“A beautiful mess.”
Smiles tug at our lips.
“Rinse off in the shower, and I’ll fill the jacuzzi. Sound good?”
When I come out of the shower, I point a toe into the water, quickly taking it out. “It’s hot.”
He submerges himself first and then gently splashes the water over my foot until I sink into the soothing embrace of the bubbling water. Positioned on opposite sides, a comfortable distance separates us. Yet, to my delight, he takes it upon himself to lavish attention on my tired feet, skillfully massaging them with his gentle touch.
Only the sloshing of water lapping against the sides and whirring of the jacuzzi fill the silence. It’s not uncomfortable; it’s just quiet. I suspect he doesn’t know where to go from here. He said it was up to me.
This is the first time I’ve had a chance to admire his inked arms and the small one closer to his oblique muscles. I’ve been around plenty of hockey guys, and all of them are cut, but Reed’s arms are bulky and well defined without flexing. The ink adds an edge to him. Some may think he’s the dangerous broody guy, but to me, he’s attentive, thoughtful, and yes, possessive.
I wiggle my foot away from him and drag it down on his arm. “When did you get your first tattoo?”
“Sixteen.”
“Really? Your parents let you?”
