Twelve
He eased into Presley’s sweet, giving body slowly, which was an exquisite form of torture.
There was no need to ease—she was wet and ready for him—but he didn’t want to rush. He finally had her, had her approval, and had been the first man to give her an orgasm with his tongue on her clit. That alone was enough to make him blow.
So, by the time he’d eased in to the hilt, he’d had to breathe low and slow and remind himself he was a grown man who could hold out longer than a few pathetic minutes.
Presley wasn’t helping in that endeavor.
She stroked his hair with her fingers, rocking her hips against his in a rhythm that was both gentle and deep. He wedged his teeth together when she touched his chest. Now she was murmuring words like “you’re so hot, you feel good, I like your mouth the most,” and he had to pause to issue a warning.
“Pres,” he grunted as the pressure in his balls built to a dangerous level, “honey, you have to stop talking dirty or I’m going to lose it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “I’m talking dirty?”
“Yes. And I like it. Way too much.”
Upon hearing that, his vixen crossed her ankles at his thighs and arched her back. Her nipples were alert and begging for a kiss. He delivered one to each of them before she started again.
“I had no idea how big you were,” she purred into his ear. “You used to be able to make me orgasm with your mouth on my breasts, but now that I know how good you are between my legs, I’m going to demand that from now on.”
“Presley.”
“Seriously. So big.”
“Dammit,” he begged.
“Don’t stop.”
Like he could? His hips pistoned between hers, desperate to find the release he’d sought since he entered her.
“Huge, actually,” she breathed.
“Honey, shut up.” He stamped a kiss onto her mouth.
“Not on your life.” A flicker of challenge lit her eyes. “Tell me, what else can you do with your—oh!”
Her startled “oh!” was because he’d decided to teach her a lesson, lifting her leg and hooking her knee over his elbow. He tilted his hips and drove deep, loving watching her blue eyes darken to navy.
He might be at her mercy, but he wanted her to know she was also at his.
“Yeah, ‘oh,’” he teased. Her eyebrows scrunched, the whimper she released a melody he’d not soon forget. “You first, then it’s my turn.”
“I...already...had a turn,” she breathed, with effort, given he hadn’t stopped moving.
“You had two turns. This makes three.” He seated himself again and her face contorted in a pleasure-pain expression. She was close. And, thank God, she went over after he doled out one more stroke.
He let go of her leg and propped himself on his elbows. Her arms lazily looped his neck and then she continued murmuring about how sexy he was and how hot he was and how big he was. This time he didn’t stop her.
He found his own release shortly after hers, finishing on a growl, his face in her neck, his nose buried in her hair. His breath was shallow. His mind blessedly blank.
He surfaced after who knew how long, the sweat from their bodies cooling on their skin. That was when she turned her head and kissed his cheek, giving him so much sweet he could hardly stand it. Too much sweet after what they’d done. But that was Presley. She was sweet. Even when she was naked and talking dirty.
Before he could let that thought take root, she murmured, “Wow” into his ear and for some reason that hit him and he laughed.
Hard.
She joined him, her shoulders bouncing beneath him, which was when he became aware he was crushing her into the mattress. He pushed up, slipped free of her tight hold and rolled to his back. Hand on his chest, he pulled in a deep breath.