“Yeah? I’m thinking I should ask for my Fruit of the Loom back.” The comment was gruff and surprising. Who knew Ty Sullivan had a naughty streak?
She rocked her hips, suddenly desperate to feel that heavy length inside her.
She hadn’t had sex in months. Not since a one-night fling with the photographer on her last photo shoot in Rome—which had turned sour when he’d offered her a line of cocaine to complement h
er afterglow.
“You want it back,” she dared. “You’re going to have to take it back.”
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“All I hear is talk,” she challenged, loving the flare of his nostrils.
Holding her wrists in one hand, he kept his eyes locked on hers as he lifted the hem of the T-shirt. His hand swept up to cup one naked breast. She arched her back, loving the feel of his callused palm as the nipple swelled and hardened.
“Damn, but you’re beautiful,” he said, on an anguished sigh.
She’d been called beautiful before, but never with that rough combination of desire and stunned disbelief. The evidence that he didn’t want to be attracted to her, was like a red rag to a bull.
She tugged her hands from his grip and sank her fingers into his food encrusted hair to draw his mouth down to hers. She licked and nipped against the seam of his lips, until he opened for her. Thrusting her tongue inside, she directed the kiss, until his tongue tangled with hers and a dance of dominance and surrender began. The battle for supremacy became wild and reckless until they broke apart, the pants of their breathing deafening despite the rumbling hum of the conditioning unit.
Suddenly they were wrestling their clothes off. He hauled her up, dragged the stained, sodden T-shirt over her head. She scrambled to unzip his suit pants. Buttons popped as she wrenched his shirt apart to glide her hands down the tensed muscles of his abs and into his boxers. She pushed the waistband down, relishing his strangled groan as she wrapped her fingers round the thrusting erection.
God, but he was beautiful, too, so thick and long and hard, the circumsized head slick and ready with pre-come.
Somewhere a million miles away, a voice whispered ‘this is Faith’s uptight brother and you can’t stand him’. But the voice was drowned out by the pounding ache in her pussy as he wrenched off her panties, then plunged his fingers into the hot wet folds and found her clit. She bucked and the heat coiled, tighter and tighter as he stroked and circled the hard nub with alarming proficiency. Cradling the back of her head, he yanked her up to lick a nipple, before sucking the peak to the roof of his mouth. Sensation, so sharp it was almost painful, arrowed down as his fingers continued to play, his thumb teasing the perfect spot.
She sobbed, choking on pleasure, as the coil burst free at last, radiating through her battered body in a devastating cascade.
“Jesus, I want you so much.” His voice sounded hoarse, muffled by the buzzing in her head as he grasped her hips, and angled her pelvis, ready to plunge.
“Wait. Condoms? You need a condom.” She slapped open palms against his chest, shaking fingers skidding off the oiled contours, as she pushed him back, her common sense bursting through the daze of afterglow.
“Shit. Yeah. Right.” He levered himself up and, holding his trousers, his shirt tails flying, shot into the bathroom.
She heard more cursing, the crash of something hitting the cubicle floor, then he returned. He should have looked ridiculous with his shirt hanging open, his fly down, his trousers hitched up with one arm, the washboard lean abdominal muscles glistening with oil, his collarbone peppered with bulgar wheat, and his hair gelled with cream cheese… If he didn’t look so fricking hot. And smell so totally delicious. Better than any three-course cordon bleu meal…
Or at least better than the one he was currently wearing.
“Here, let me.” She took the foil package from his greasy fingers, ripped it open with her teeth and then rolled it on the massive erection.
Goodness, the man was seriously built in more ways than one.
He kicked off his trousers and boxers, then grasping her hips, settled between her thighs.
She stretched her arms up, flattening her palms against the top of the bunk, desperate to feel the punishing thrust that would bury his huge cock to the hilt and stop her from thinking about what the hell she was doing, banging Faith’s uptight brother.
But as she braced for it, he stilled, the head of the erection nudging her entrance.
“You sure about this?” he asked, searching her face.
“Of course I am.” She cried, ready to beg or threaten or, better yet, batter him if he stopped now.
But he only nodded and then thrust hard.
She gasped, shocked by the depth of his penetration, her sex struggling to adjust to the immense fullness.
“Damn, are you okay? Did I hurt you? You’re so tight.”