Wren’s strong hands clamp down on my legs, keeping me spread for him, and I let out an embarrassing, scream/cry as stars detonate behind my eyelids. My entire body tries to shoot off the bed as I grip his soft hair, hoping I’m not making him bald.
I’d probably be bucking off the bed and falling onto the floor if Wren’s hands weren’t holding me in my place, letting me ride out the orgasm that makes all other orgasms look ridiculous by comparison.
He starts kissing his way up, and my body shudders against every touch, feeling far too sensitive for any sort of physical contact right now. But it doesn’t stop him from continuing to lick, nip, and kiss all the way up to my bra.
His hands slide under me, and I feel the bra loosen before he pulls it off me and tosses it aside. His wicked grin transforms his face, and I almost blush—but it takes more strength than I have.
“Am I going to fast?” he asks, but then his mouth latches onto my nipple, and the ability to speak gets harder.
“Not fast enough,” I mutter, almost breathless, and he releases something that sounds like a growl before his lips find mine again.
Then I feel his bare body between my legs. When the hell did his pants come off? Not that I’m complaining, but seriously, when?
His tongue is demanding, possessive, and definitely savage inside my mouth, and all those foreign sounds keep spilling from my lips to his. I feel him nudging me, moving his hips until he’s settled right where I want him.
There’s no warning before he groans and thrusts in powerfully, and my lips break apart from his to cry out in pure pleasure. I freaking sound like a porn girl that I would normally mock.
He doesn’t move at first, and I take in a shaky breath, still trying to wrap my head around the fact Wren is on top of me, in my bed, inside of me…
His eyes find mine before they close and his lips descend on mine again before his hips start rocking. Just the slightest friction has me arching into him and making more of those sounds.
He continues to devour my mouth, leaning his body over as he grips my hips, tugging my lower half higher, and finding an angle that makes it impossible for me to concentrate enough to kiss.
He leans up, and I watch without shame as he grips my hips harder, bashing his hips into the cradle of my thighs hard enough to leave bruises, but I don’t give a damn. His muscles are flexed as I grip the sheets below me, taking in every movement connecting us.
It’s all too much—sight, touch, taste, sound… Tingles turn into painfully pleasurable shocks, and I cry out his freaking name like some madwoman when my whole body stiffens before becoming completely boneless.
Wren’s furious thrusts change rhythm. He moves harder but slower inside me as he groans and shudders. He drops to my body, kissing my neck while his body continues light movements. His rocking finally stops, and I gingerly wrap my arms around his neck while his face stays buried between my neck and the pillow.
Even though I’m still high from what just happened—he really knows what the hell he’s doing—my body suddenly tenses. I just had sex with Wren. Again. And the last time this happened, he just stood up and walked out.
“Fucking perfect,” he says against my neck, sounding a little out of breath.
I don’t completely relax, but some of my anxiety dies as he continues trailing kisses across my neck. And then I completely lose all tension when his lips find mine again.
The hunger is gone, and now he’s slowly exploring my mouth at a leisure pace, kissing, sucking, biting... But then he stops, pulling back ever so slightly.
“Hi,” he says, grinning down at me like he’s much too proud of himself.
I laugh lightly before cupping the back of his neck.
“Really? Hi?” I ask, hoping he doesn’t hear the slight tremble in my voice.
He smirks before cocking an eyebrow. “I said fucking perfect but you didn’t respond. So I thought I’d go with a different approach.”
He bends, brushing his lips against mine, and I grin bigger. He’s not just walking out. But suddenly he pales, and his body goes rigid. That knot tightens in my stomach. He regrets it?
“Shit,” he says, screwing his eyes shut. “I didn’t even put on a damn condom. Shit. Shit. Shit.”
This is what it means to have a guy make you stupid. I didn’t even think about a condom, and I always think of condoms. Thank God it’s Wren.
“I’m on birth control. I never miss a shot,” I say quietly, feeling dumber for even considering it to be okay to do this again.
But. It’s. Wren. And Wren makes me stupid, hot, wild, hungry—