“But there’s perfectly good countertops down here.” I laughed when he swept me up in his arms and headed upstairs. “You’re getting too used to carrying me.”
“I like keeping a good hold on you.” He smiled down at me as he carried me up the steps as if I was precious cargo, his unkempt hair dipping over his temple, and my heart just dropped at his feet.
I didn’t own it anymore. It was just his. Lock, stock, and Brooks.
He set me down on his big bed in the deep, dark night. There was no light up here except for the nightlight in the hall. He went to turn on the lamp beside the bed, but I stilled his hand. “Can we have the fire?”
His fingers squeezed mine before he went to do as I’d asked. Outside, rain pelted the windows, a fine mix with the melting snow.
I shivered, but not from the cold.
The fire snapped to life, giving the room a soft orange glow. He turned back to me, and the image of him highlighted by firelight would live in my memory forever. Especially when he stripped off his shirt and let it lay where it fell. His golden skin seemed even more so now, his muscles full and pronounced as he stalked toward the bed.
I worked off my boots and leaned back on my elbows to enjoy the show.
“Keep going.” I lifted my foot to tease his damn near washboard abs with my socked toes.
He ignored me, as he often did. Slowly, he drew off my socks and tossed them aside, bypassing my foot to nibble on my ankle. Watching him feast on such a typically unsexy part shouldn’t have made me try to press my thighs together.
“Uh uh.” He gripped my foot. “No relief. Just like I haven’t had relief for three years.”
The smart ass in my brain nearly ruined the moment. I hit her with a mallet and made her shut the hell up.
He dove under my crazy layered skirt and swiftly separated me from my panties before he shoved my leg far to the side, clamping it to the mattress. His iron-clad hold didn’t weaken as he brushed his mouth over the seam of my pussy—or when I reared up straight from the slash of his tongue.
I writhed against the bed, but not being able to move my leg was strangely exciting. I was grounded at the same time he was daring me to fly.
He flipped up my skirt and cursed when it flopped down over him again. I giggled as I tried to help him with it, but he was a do-it-yourself sort of guy.
“Hold on to the comforter. Don’t move your hands. Just take.”
I did as he asked, squeezing it between my fists as he sank his tongue deep inside me. He added two fingers, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. His strokes picked up at the same moment he sucked on my clit, and I fell back against the bed while my leg twitched in his hold. I couldn’t control it. My toes curled at the pressure from his erotic kisses and the slow slide of his fingers. Two turned into three, and I thrashed against the mattress, kicking at him impatiently as the need spiraled so tight I couldn’t bear it.
He didn’t stop. If anything, he worked me harder, forcing my body to b
end to his will. To just unspool for him so he could collect the pieces and scatter them wherever he wished.
I was so close, hovering on the verge of detonating when he let go of my leg and climbed up the bed to grip my chin. His mouth found mine in the dark, his tongue sliding against mine so slowly I couldn’t breathe. Tasting myself that way scrambled what was left of my thoughts. I couldn’t do anything but reach up to hold his broad shoulders. My nails scored his skin, and he hissed in my ear, his still clothed cock jumping against my thigh.
“I hate clothes,” he muttered, easing back enough that we could fight to yank my dress over my head. It landed somewhere on the floor and his fingers dipped to the clasp of my bra. The rasp of fabric seemed like the last lock giving way. The last part of myself hidden away, although he’d seen my breasts before.
But there would be no stopping now.
My bra joined my dress on the floor, and he drew my arms slowly upward as he strummed his hand over me like he was playing an instrument. Learning my curves and hollows on a path to twisting first one nipple then the other. He kneeled while I sat, and the way he loomed over me made my blood hum.
His touch turned rougher, one hand diving into my messy updo while the other teased my breasts until I verged on insanity.
Finally, he undid his pants. His movements were methodical, completely unrushed. I couldn’t keep still, but he took his time to tug his pants and boxer briefs down his thighs. That was as far as he got before I drew him into my mouth, gripping the base as best I could because holy shit, he was big. And hard.
And big.
From the hiss he released, he didn’t mind my efforts, so I redoubled them, learning him with my lips and tongue and eager fingers. The earthy scent of him had me pushing to take more, to swallow him deeper. With my other hand, I reached down to touch myself, but I didn’t get far. He blinked through the haze and saw the direction of my hand and yanked it up to his chest, holding it over his stampeding heart.
Never saying a word. Never relenting from his unhurried thrusts between my lips.
I lost myself in pleasuring him. His uneven breaths and the minute flutters in the head of his cock against my tongue spurred me on. I reached underneath to cup him where he was soft and vulnerable, and his hand disappeared into my hair again to gently cup the base of my head. After a moment, he nudged me off his cock and stared at me in the darkness, his eyes glowing in the firelight.
“When I’m inside you,” he gritted out. “That’s how we’re both going to come tonight.”