Eleven
She’d had no idea what to name the craving that had shaken her for the last week, but now she understood what the hunger had been about. What she’d been hungry for was him.
Before Royce sent his fingers into a one-man banjo solo over the most sensitive part of her body, she’d have sworn she was doing fine on her own in that department. What could possibly be the difference between a man’s fingers and her own?
Now she had no idea where to start counting. The rough pads versus smooth? The not knowing what he would do next versus her own evenly timed strokes? Or the dirty, delicious way he talked to her during?
Yes. To all of the above.
Aftershocks shook her shoulders as she relived the best orgasm she’d had in literally years.
But she couldn’t chastise herself for not sleeping with someone sooner. Instinctually she knew that anyone other than Royce wouldn’t have delivered as well.
Even after he removed her coat she’d half expected him to turn her down. With him, calm practicality reigned supreme.
Not this version of him, though. He was different tonight. Looser and more open. Eager to please her.
Royce pushed his slacks along with his boxer briefs off his muscular legs. He stood before her, his heavy erection standing against a backdrop of ab muscles she’d had no idea were there. His lips twitched into a smile as he peeled the starched white shirt from his glorious chest. The right amount of wiry hair dusted his pecs and led from his belly button to the part of him she couldn’t wait to experience.
The dampness between her legs renewed, a warm trickle sliding through her as she mentally prepared for all that length, all that strength covering her. Clothes in hand, he tucked them against his body and bent to kiss her lightly on the mouth. “Be back.”
“Wh-where are you going?” She propped herself up on her elbows, watching his clenching and contracting ass moved away from her and down the hallway.
“Condom,” he called as he vanished into the darkness.
Right. Protection.She eased down on the couch, allowing herself a small laugh at her forgetfulness—or maybe it was the sheer joy of getting exactly what she wanted with relative ease.
He didn’t stay gone long, padding barefoot back to her. His hand wrapped around himself, he rolled on the protection she was glad one of them remembered. He lowered himself onto the couch and she parted her thighs to accept him. His warm-bordering-hot skin came in contact with her greedy nipples and she gasped at the sensation.
“I like your hair this way.” He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “I noticed it this morning.”
“That wasn’t all you noticed.”
Looking over his shoulder at the high heels still strapped to her feet, he gave her a feral grin. “Lock those around my thighs.”
She did as she was told, her body naturally tilting to accept him. When he nudged her entrance she accepted him inch by glorious inch, but made sure she kept her eyes open. Watching him endure the slow torture of entering her was sheer joy, and one he savored. He stretched her intentionally before he began to move. Seated to the root, he let out a sound resembling a growl.
“You looked as innocent as Red Riding Hood on my porch, but there was something wild in your eyes.”
“Wild, as in unhinged?” A breath hissed from between her teeth as he pulled out and slid in again—so smooth, so good.
“Wild, as in you’re not as safe as you look.”
“Are you the wolf in this scenario?” She toyed with his hair, loving talking during sex. Unique, this entire encounter.
“Maybe we’re both wolves.” His next thrust wasn’t as careful as the one before it, brushing her G-spot and causing her brain to skip like a smooth rock over a still pond.
Before she sank beneath the surface she forced him back into focus. “You’re the wolf.”
He winked. Winked!
“I like you like this,” she said, unsure what she’d meant by that until she continued speaking. “Unable to resist me.”
“You make it hard, Taylor Thompson.”
“Quite the double entendre.”
“Keep up that smart mouth and I’ll double my efforts.”