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He pressed against her opening. She was slick and wet, pure heaven fisting him, first one sweet inch. Then two.
“Is this payback for the paint?” Her question was more moan than complaint.
He grimaced against her throat. “This is me slowing us down.”
Bracing himself on either side of her, he teased her with just the tip of his penis, loving how her folds parted around him, her body trying to take him deep inside. She rubbed herself against him, and suddenly going slow was a whole lot less attractive.
“Fuck.” He needed to make this perfect for her.
“Yes. Now.” She groaned, arching back, a woman on a mission.
“Watch me.” He tapped the mirror in front of them, clearing away the steamy fog. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips parted. When her eyes met his, he thrust slowly. Stopping when her eyelashes fluttered closed was pure torture.
“Open your eyes, sweetheart. Watch us.”
Her eyes snapped open and she groaned again. “Now you’re just being mean.”
He fisted her ponytail. “Your hair drives me crazy.” He wrapped the long strands around his hand. With his other hand, he gripped her hips. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to anchor her as he pushed slowly inside.
She pushed back against him, taking him deep. “Faster.”
“Slower,” he commanded.
She squeezed him deep inside her, but she was at his mercy. Wide open. And they were both loving every minute of it. He could feel her coming, her body clinging to his. She climaxed, and her pleasure pushed him over his own edge. Not holding back, he thrust deep. His hips slammed into hers, skin slapping against skin in a sweet unmistakable bark of sound as he spiraled out of control. His harsh breathing filled the bathroom, and, damn, now he was the one not looking in the mirror, because he’d never felt like this before.
She slowly pulled her hands away from the countertop. “Let me go?”
Absolutely. He really, really needed to let her go, before he got so used to holding her that he couldn’t not. And he would—just as soon as his legs would hold him. He’d spent a lifetime catching people who were in one kind of a free-fall or another and then letting them go once they were back on their feet. He was good at the rescue, but he sucked at the next part. When the chopper landed, he handed over his rescue in the basket and moved on. He wasn’t the EMT or the doctor. His part was important, but it was really only the start of something bigger. And he’d never stuck around to see what something bigger might entail. Starting now couldn’t be part of his plans.
He dropped a kiss against her throat and then he let go.
See? Easy as hell.
15
MIA HEADED DOWN to Pleasure Pier for a simple beer after work. She’d been invited by her not-quite-fiancé on a double date with Piper and Cal. Both the beer and the date were perfectly normal activities, she reminded herself. She wanted normal in her life, and that meant getting out there and doing things like this.
Nevertheless, her feet slowed to a crawl as soon as she reached the start of the pier. There were too many people, too close. Which was silly. She needed to get over this. Now and not some indefinite day in the future. Tag was waiting for her at the pier’s far end, which should have been motivation enough. He’d looked particularly hot and kissable at work earlier, and she had definite plans to get her hands on him.
More than a few people greeted her as she power-walked her way down the pier toward the swing carousel. She nodded and smiled, but kept on going. If she stopped, she might not start again. It was nice, though, feeling like she belonged here a little. People knew her name and her face. When she reached the carousel, Piper was shrieking as she rode past, Cal by her side. It was downright cute, the way he stole a kiss when the swings arced out over the ocean, Piper’s brown hair flying around them, her hands grabbing Cal’s shoulders and hauling him close.
Maybe Tag would be up for a ride, and she’d have the perfect excuse to get handsy with him, too. She would have suggested it, except she could imagine how that would end—not with erotic hanky-panky, but with motion sickness–induced nausea. Really sexy. Plus, right now she needed just a moment of peace and quiet.
Before Cal and Piper could spot her, she stepped into the shadows lining the far side of the pier. An almost painful awareness hummed through her body, as if she’d touched a live wire and invited ten-thousand volts of electricity to course through her veins. Kids screamed and it was happy noise, she reminded herself. Good. She’d make it her self-appointed mission to retrace her steps to the end of the pier, buy a beer, and then fall back. Three hundred yards. One thousand steps. She could manage that.
