Right before he lost it completely, she stopped to graze his lower stomach with her teeth, centering him in the maelstrom of his need, making it theirs. Stringing it out as her hands feathered over his burning-hot skin, running up his torso, mapping him inch by inch. She climbed onto his lap and captured his face, her laughter infusing the kiss and making it sweeter.
Forgetting to be gentle, he yanked up her sweater with one hand and tugged her bra down with the other, ripping apart the clasp. Her breasts spilled forward and he caught the rosy tip of one in his mouth while he pinched the other. She moaned, dipping her head back, her long hair tickling his knees as he sucked and pulled and savored the warmth of her surrounding him. Arms around his head, legs caging him in. Pelvis to pelvis, rocking in the dark.
He fumbled for the zipper of her jeans. She helped him draw it down and rose to shimmy off the denim, giving him an erotic striptease that ended with her dangling her string bikinis off the tip of her finger before dropping them over the tent pole currently taking up residence in his lap. She chuckled at the image the lime green fabric stretched over his painful erection made, though he groaned in sheer agony as she wrapped her panties around his length and worked them up and down, flicking her tongue over the head when it popped free.
“Mmm. You taste so good.” She sealed her lips around him and sucked, long and slow. His hips rose off the couch, driving him deeper into her throat. She hummed again, squeezing his painfully tight balls, showing no mercy. He couldn’t take any fucking more.
He hoped it would never stop.
“Goddamn you,” he said hoarsely, making her laugh in that sexy, devious way. Mischief lined her features as she rose above him, brushing that strip of damp heat between her legs over his cock, again and again, until he was half-mad for her.
Locking his hand in her hair, he flipped her on her back in the corner of the sofa. He grabbed the condom and managed to get it on before pushing her legs up. Instinct rode him hard, guiding his actions. He wasn’t thinking about finesse or trying to put on an act. All he wanted, needed, was the hot fist of her sweet pussy closing around him as he san
k deep, way down deep into the inferno they’d made together.
Her eyes went wide and she cried out, in pain or surprise or hunger. He didn’t know and didn’t stop to ask. He’d found heaven in her body. In the worlds revealed in her eyes at the first hesitant flex of his hips.
“Kim.” Her name was a chanted prayer. His hands kept sliding off her skin. They were both drenched. She kept rotating against him, prodding him to move, whimpering her insistence. Telling him filthy things that made him harder than he’d ever dreamed.
“Give it to me. I ache. Please.” She threw back her head, baring the long fire-licked column of her throat, and he bit her there, desperate for the salt of her skin while he fought to get his bearings. This wasn’t only about him. She needed—
She arched, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck me already.”
He already was, in halting, uncertain strokes. Shallow at first, then all the way in until there was nowhere left to go. Burrowing there, swiveling his pelvis, grinding into the swollen nub she’d reached down to caress. He should’ve done that. Couldn’t quite coordinate that with the movements inside her yet. It was all too much. Information overload.
Her fingers slipped over the base of him, providing more sensation, spreading the wet warmth that soaked him to the root. He was drowning in it, in her, his mouth reckless on hers, his fingers rough where they skated over her sensitive breasts. Bruising her while he tipped her farther back into the cushions, folding her legs up, surging into her over and over. Following impulse, hoping like hell it didn’t steer him wrong. He tried to consider her, to temper his thrusts, but there was no going back. He disappeared into the blackout pleasure of her cries and her welcoming body, overdosing on the rhythmic pulses of her sex. She was lost too, her eyes hazy and so dark, beckoning him into the storm. Offering him shelter when he’d believed there was none to be found.
“Kim,” he whispered again. “Kim.”
Her fingers locked with his on the arm of the couch, twisting together as he finally let go with a shout of triumph. She moaned long and low, coiling her legs around his neck like a spider around her very willing prey. He would’ve happily stayed in her lair forever.
Exhaustion rolled through him. He unhooked her legs and dropped his head in the crook of her shoulder, inhaling a grateful breath of her tropical shampoo and the muskier scent of their lovemaking. He would remember this. Every sound she’d made, every brush of their skin.
The desperation drained out of him, bleeding into a fatigue so absolute he would’ve slept if not for the awkward position and the soft protest she made at his weight. “Sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying it because he’d crushed her or because he was nearly certain she hadn’t had an orgasm. Probably both.
When he pulled back, she wrapped her legs around his waist, vising him in her heat. “Don’t apologize. We aren’t done yet.” She took him deep, her fingers flicking through the scruff along his jaw and toying with his lips. She worked him all on her own, taking what she craved while he watched her and tumbled over the edge into something he’d never expected. And she came undone around him, breaking open so sweetly that he couldn’t keep from driving his hardening cock into her depths one more time to ride that keen edge of desire.
She slipped her hand into his hair, drawing his head toward her breasts. Her lips ghosted over his temple, a balm to his singed skin. If he’d had a voice, he would’ve thrown out promises she didn’t want and he surely wouldn’t mean come morning. He didn’t trust himself right now. But he knew one thing without a doubt.
Waiting for this—for her—had been the smartest move he’d ever made.
Kim snuggled into the strong arms that held her, drifting on a dream. She was walking in the sunlight, her hair caught in the breeze. A colorful kite trailed through the blue sky overhead, cutting a bright swath. She couldn’t look away. It was getting smaller and smaller, drifting higher into the clouds no matter how hard she pulled on the string.
“Kim.”
She raced with the kite, losing her footing, clenching her fingers until the string burned her palm. She was bleeding now, crying, but she couldn’t bring the kite down. The roll of string fell from her hand, bouncing down the hill. Going. Gone.
“Kim.” The hand on her shoulder squeezed. “Wake up, baby. You’re having a bad dream.”
She shook her head. No. It wasn’t. She’d been having the best dream until it ended. God, her eyes were prickling. Who the hell got that emotional over a dream?
Unwilling to face reality yet, she rolled over and buried her face in his neck, clinging to him in a way she wouldn’t have let herself normally. But just now it felt right. He was so warm, so solid. All the way down to the cock poking her hip.
She swallowed hard, trapping a giggle in her throat. Young men and their enthusiastic dicks. God bless them.
“You okay?” he murmured, stroking her hair. So gentle. He rubbed his furry leg against hers and that was all it took to set the giggle free. “Hey, open your eyes.” He tapped on her chin.
She barely remembered them stumbling upstairs to bed shortly before morning. Was it so wrong she wasn’t in any hurry for the fantasy of the night to end? “Make me.”