Determined to make it happen, he surged up, pushed her onto a higher stair, and doubled his efforts. Her tightly crossed legs draped down his back. Ten fingers tangled in his hair. Everything under his lips turned so hot, so wet, and so fucking restless, precision became impossible. He forfeited it and gave himself to the frenzy—tonguing her everywhere, kissing, licking, sucking whatever he could get his mouth on. His hips rocked to the rhythm of her riding his mouth, the crown of his cock occasionally making contact with a riser. If he didn’t watch it, he was going to hurt something…or come with his face between her legs, fucking a stair.

Eden’s voice filtered through the sound of blood rushing in his ears. “Jesus. Sweet Jesus, Swain. I’m going to…I’m going to…I’m going to—”

Chapter Fifteen

“Come!” Eden panted. “I’m going to come,” she said again as the first implosions rippled through her.

As soon as the words left her mouth, someone growled like a furious animal—Swain—and the world spun. A cry of surprise—hers—filled the air. The next thing she knew, she was splayed on the stairs, blinking through sweat-blurred eyes at a thin dark ribbon of grain in the wood. Her forearms were perched precariously on the step just below, her knees wide and sliding wider in search of balance on two different steps, her legs shaking with the force of the orgasm about to roll through her like a storm surge. Before a fear of falling formed, a big, sure hand curled around her hip. Another shoved her robe up and dragged her underwear down.

“Oh, God. Okay. Okay.” She wedged a foot between the rails and braced her arch against a baluster. “Just hurry.”

Despite her instruction, or maybe because of it, he left her there for a prolonged moment, open and aching and trembling to be filled. And then…lord…the hard, heavy heat of him brushed her inner thigh. Her insides clenched and released, greedy to receive him. Without really meaning to, she dug her knees in and arched her back to open herself even more. He swore—that’s all the warning she got—and thrust.

Her body put up little resistance. He’d gotten her so wet, so ready, she felt empty not having him inside her, but still she cried out as he sank deep. One sharp cry of thanks for the perfect fullness of his penetration, followed immediately by another cry of gratitude as the force of his entry caused shockwaves that sent her orgasm cresting higher.

Terrifyingly high, a whisper in her head cautioned. Remember you have to come down. You have to survive that fall. But then Swain started to move, taking her even higher with every thrust, and he fucked caution right out of her mind.

His hands were everywhere, so lightning fast she couldn’t keep track, so effortlessly effective she didn’t need to bother. He was giving her everything she could have asked for, anything she could have wanted. He was giving her words, too, low and rough, with his lips near her ear, his breath fanning her cheek, but even so, she couldn’t make them out. A mix of prayers and curses and Eden…Eden…Eden. They flew away in the chaos of his body buffeting hers, and the waves of sensation building, and building, lifting, rising…until…the raging power finally dragged her under, and she came on the stairs, with her head bowed, her hands clasped like a faithful at prayer, and the sound of her own voice in her ears, crying his name.

By the time her breath steadied and her system calmed, he’d peeled his body off hers and started kissing his way down her spine. Keeping her forehead pressed to the stair, she sighed. “Jesus. What brought that on?”

The warm lips pressed to the small of her back lingered there for a moment longer. Then they disappeared, and a big hand slapped her ass—a little too hard to count as playful.

“Hey!” She jerked upright, pulling her robe around her, and turned to glare at him. “What is your problem?”

His usual “no worries” expression was nowhere to be found in the foreboding slant of his brows, the blazing blue of his eyes, and the stubborn set of his jaw. “My problem is coming home to find my partner alone and next to naked with the two men we’re running a sting on.”

Oh, jeez. Not this again. Even understanding the arguably noble place it sprang from didn’t mean she intended to give in to his overprotectiveness. She stood. Her underwear dangled around her ankles. She kicked it off and secured the belt of her robe. “I wasn’t any more ‘next to naked’ this afternoon than I have been the other times they’ve seen me.”

He stayed seated on the stairs, shirtless, shoeless, and absurdly appealing with his jeans around his shins and his construction-chiseled body on display. “We could argue that, but more naked or not, you were a whole lot more alone.”

She stepped over him. “I’m not having this conversation, Swain, except to say they’re harmless, and I know how to take care of myself.”

When she started to walk away, he reached out and snagged her ankle. A jerk had her falling backward. Her scream of surprise turned to an inelegant oof as she landed in his arms.

“Nobody’s harmless, choux.”

“Let go of me.” She tried to throw an elbow into his gut, but he had her locked down. Wriggling, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “Is it my turn to headbutt you? ’Cause that’s what’s coming next if you don’t let go of me, you big, idiotic cooyon.”

“That’s redundant. No, don’t,” he said and jerked his head away when she tipped hers backward in hopes of connecting with his jaw.

“I didn’t invite them over, you know. They just showed up. For caution’s sake—because I do rely on my training, regardless of what you think—I took things outside. I served them lemonade and made them look at bridesmaid dresses. Trust me, the only crime likely to happen was two counts of death by boredom.”

“Nah. I don’t think so.” He took a deep breath, causing her chest to rise and fall with his. “But if you didn’t want to shoo them off, why not send me a text so I know what I’m walking into?”

Oh. Well, yeah, she could have done that.

He breathed again, slow and easy, and loosened his arms. “Just keep me in the loop, choux.” His voice was a persuasive rumble. His hands smoothed down the outsides of her thighs. “That’s all I’m asking. You’re the love of my life, after all.”

She battled a smile. “You’ll do the same?”

“Swear to God,” he murmured.

“No flying solo?”

“Copilots all the way. We land this thing together.” His hand slipped between her knees. He ran his warm, callused palms up the insides of her thighs. “Can we make up now, or do you still wanna fight?”

She shifted her hips over his lap. “I can feel how much you want to make up.”


Tags: Samanthe Beck Private Pleasures Erotic