His palms pressing against her shoulders made her squirm, but the fight was making her burn hot again even though she’d just had an orgasm. “I come easier if I’m on my hands and knees.”
Truth. Sort of. Turning her back always made it easier to focus on the sensations. To block her partner out.
“Well, good news, this portion of the festivities isn’t for you. It’s for me. And I want to watch your face when I fuck you.”
He kept his hands on her shoulders but lifted a brow, as if asking a question, and she realized he was giving her a chance to tell him no, to use her safe word. But that would be a version of losing, and she didn’t want this to end right now. She wanted it on her terms, but not enough to pull the parachute cord. She’d just close her eyes. “You’re a selfish bastard. I thought you were supposed to be the sensitive, giving surrogate.”
He rubbed his cock along her crease, teasing her. “Only with people I like.”
“Only with people who pay you.”
His jaw clenched and he angled forward, entering her without warning and burying deep.
Her body was so slick, it welcomed the invasion, but the surprise of it and the delicious fullness of his cock had her gasping. Her head tipped back and she tried not to look so affected, but it was useless. Her muscles flexed around him and her fingers curled into the sheets.
Lane let out a quiet groan, a little break in his own cool facade, and he braced a hand alongside her as he pulled almost all the way out and then sank home again. The glide of his heat against hers was like scratching the deepest, most satisfying itch. Goddamn, she hadn’t realized how much she needed this, that feeling of being joined, of having a gorgeous man filling her. He put a hand behind her knee, opening her farther, and pumped into her with long, slow strokes that made her nerve endings sing with pleasure. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall into the oblivion of it.
“Look at me,” he said, the words a low rumble.
“Hmm?” Her voice had taken on a dreamy quality.
A hand slipped behind her neck and squeezed. The sudden change caused her eyes to pop open. Lane’s face was inches from hers, his eyes ablaze. “Look. At. Me.”
Elle licked her lips, her heart pounding high in her throat. He was so close that she could see flecks of gold in his green eyes and the intensity burning there. The eye contact had her anxiety surfacing. She didn’t do the intimacy thing. She didn’t fuck face to face, much less eye to eye. But he pumped into her again and held her gaze. Somehow, she couldn’t look away. He was daring her not to look away.
“That’s right,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s me, Elle. That’s who’s making you feel good. The hooker from the X-wing. Ask me to make you come again.”
She swallowed hard, her pride and the need in her body having a throwdown. “I don’t beg, Cannon. I’m not one of your submissives.”
“You used the word beg, not me. Are you feeling tempted to beg?” He shifted his hips, angling right against that sensitive spot inside her and tucking his hand between them to provide maddening friction to her clit. “Because, boy, would that be a feather in my cap.”
She took a shuddering breath, trying to breathe through the need. “Fuck you.”
“Already doing that. Effectively, based on the look on your face.”
She closed her eyes, but he tapped his forehead to hers. “Look at me, McCray. Look at me or I’m going to kiss you, and I know you don’t want that.”
Her eyelids flew open. She’d never had anything against kissing. She’d done it with other guys, had kissed Donovan. Could keep it separate and label it just another physical act. But the thought of kissing Lane sent fear through her. “Don’t. Please.”
His lip curled. “And that, you beg for.”
There was something wrapped up in those words, but before she could process them, he picked up his pace and, despite his demands on her, he closed his eyes. There was no stopping her reactions now. His fingers and the rhythm of his body pumping into hers were driving her past the point of control. But despite her railroading hormones, she couldn’t keep her gaze off his face. Now that he wasn’t looking at her, she could take in the view. The glisten of sweat on his brow, the hard jaw, the way his hair was curling at his temple. He was beautiful and lost to the moment. Lost to her.
Suddenly, she missed his eyes on her, missed seeing that ferocity. She lifted her hand to move his hair away from his brow, but then caught herself. This wasn’t a time for tenderness. Not here. Not with him.
So she let her head fall back, sank into the pleasure of their bodies joining and his adept fingers working her, and let it all go. The cry that came out of her sounded distant to her ears and light tracked behind her eyelids as she came. He wasn’t far behind, his composure falling away as he grunted and groaned. He grabbed her hard and sank as deep inside her as he could get, roaring with his release.
Her body shook with the force of their orgasms, everything trembling like a tuning fork until all the tension left her and she melted into a puddle on the bed. He pressed his forehead to hers for a moment, their eyes still closed, their breathing heavy, and bodies quietly joined.
The moment felt unbearably intimate and for some reason, she wanted to cry.
The urge had her planting her hands on his chest and easing him away. He went without resistance and slipped out of her. She rolled onto her side, putting her back to him.
A hand touched her h
ip. “You okay, doc?”
The concern in his tone and the gentle touch only made the anxiety welling in her worse. “I’m fine. The bathroom has fresh towels if you need to shower.”