Zoey couldn’t help but watch.
Thick, dark, the plum-shaped crest parted the swollen, juice-laden nether lips wide.
He paused then, pulling her gaze up to him.
His shirt cleared his head without the first button being undone. She was pretty sure she saw several of the small white buttons flying from the material, though.
Then he caught her beneath her knees and angled her hips up to him.
Zoey fell back, catching herself on her elbows, watching the broad cock head as it began pushing inside her. Slowly.
“Hard,” she begged, feeling the stretching bite of a pleasure-pain that wasn’t nearly enough.
“Not yet,” he groaned. “Let me watch, Zoey. Watch your sweet pussy open for me. Take me. Slow and easy.”
He worked inside her, just as he said, slow and easy, stretching her inner flesh, sending fiery lashes of sensation racing through her system.
Working inside her, push, retreat. As he pulled back, the thick coating of her natural lubrication clung to the thick, dark shaft. It glistened, covering his flesh even as it clung to hers.
“That’s it, little witch,” he groaned as the throbbing crest disappeared inside her again, parting her, the intimate folds hugging the stalk with a sheen of slick moisture. “Milk my cock inside you, Zoey. You’re so tight. So fucking hot and tight.”
One hand lifted, slid to the hem of her tank, and pushed it over her breasts, his glaze burning hotter as he stared at her swollen curves, the puckered, pebble-hard nipples.
He came over her then, his lips moving to the hard point of a nipple as his hips gave a hard, shallow thrust. Fiery pleasure pulsed inside her, that pleasure-pain sensation dragging a cry from her lips and shuddering through her.
His lips, teeth, and tongue worked over her nipples, one to the other, sucking deep and hard, nibbling with exquisite heat, and licking over them with hungry demand.
“Doogan.” The cry tore from her as he began thrusting harder, deeper inside her.
As he plunged the wide crest and broad stalk deep, the heavy veins throbbed with blood, rising beneath the silken flesh and creating an intense bite of sensation with each pounding stroke.
Blinding, white-hot flashes of raw sensation began wrapping around her senses, burning through them, pushing her into that incredibly erotic storm beginning to build inside her.
Each lunge of his hips buried his flesh deeper, built the exquisite sensations churning through her. Lifting herself to him, writhing beneath him, Zoey buried her fingers in Doogan’s hair. Her neck arched, moans spilling unbidden from her throat as he began taking her harder, faster. Driving inside her, each fierce thrust sent piercing lashes of desperate need tightening in her womb, spiraling through her senses and pushing her deeper inside the chaos building through her.
“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his lips lifting from her breasts, stroking them over her neck, brushing against hers, his breathing as harsh and labored as her own. “Take me, Zoey. God, you’re so sweet. So fucking tight.”
Pulling back, thrusting inside her again, again, until he buried to the hilt, the fiery stretching burn stealing her breath and tearing a groan from his chest.
“Ah hell, Zoey. I love your sweet pussy.” The hand at her hip tightened, his lips covered hers, his tongue sinking past them as he began moving, each driving impalement a shock to her already oversensitized flesh; each stroke, each blinding furious thrust drove her higher until she was crying out his name and exploding into ecstasy.
Deep racking shudders raced through her body. Her internal muscles clamped down on his cock, tightening around it as he pushed in to the hilt and growled her name against her lips, finding his own release inside her.
It was like flying, being flung into a storm of pure, raw sensation, and Zoey knew she was becoming hooked on him. On this pleasure he gave her, the warmth that surrounded her, and the sound of his voice as he whispered her name.
When it was over, sweat-dampened and boneless she lay beneath him and pushed away any thoughts of what the future would bring once he was gone. She couldn’t let herself think about tomorrow. Couldn’t let the thought of losing him spoil the time she had with him.
Not yet. Not until she had no other choice.
—
“Come on, witch.” Lifting her into his arms after fixing his jeans, Doogan strode up the stairs and carried Zoey to the sun-splashed bedroom.
Depositing her on the bed, he stared down at her, watching as she lifted those thickly lashed eyelids just enough to stare up at him.
“We could take a nap,” she suggested, a tempting smile curling her lips.
“I’d love to,” he said regretfully. “Unfortunately, I have to take care of some of that spy stuff you mentioned earlier.”