‘You’re enjoying this,’ she accused when he went down on his haunches to soap up her legs, massaging her calves and feet.
He picked up her handheld sprayer and started rinsing her body with warm water, a teasing smile on his face. ‘Aren’t you?’
‘Yes, but— Oh God.’ She choked on the words when he abruptly rocked forward to his knees, slid his hands up the backs of her thighs to grab her butt and buried his face between her legs, licking up into her. ‘Oh God. Yes. There. Please.’
In seconds he had her whimpering, moaning, her legs threatening to fold beneath her. She clutched his hair, her hips thrusting to get closer, get him deeper. She was close, so close. Then . . . ‘No!’ she cried when, as abruptly as he’d started, he lurched to his feet, leaving her on the edge and ready to claw his shoulders to make him go back down. Until she saw his face.
He was no longer smiling, his eyes dark and glittering with need. Without looking away from her, he turned the water off, backed her against the wall and kissed her so hard she saw little white lights floating behind her eyelids. He broke off, letting her gulp air into her burning lungs, then lifted her arms around his neck, curved his hands over her butt and shoved the shower door open with his shoulder. He picked her up, and she wound her legs around his hips, wiggling to get his erection up inside her folds, rocking against him as he carried her out of the bathroom. Once in the bedroom, he carefully laid her down on the bed, both of them still soaking wet, the overhead lights blazingly bright.
But she didn’t have even another second to think about the wet, because he followed her down, sliding down her body until his mouth was between her legs again. He didn’t lick, but went straight for her clit, sucking it into his mouth, making her scream. He didn’t stop, sucking her hard, and then his finger was back inside her, then two, stroking her faster and harder and higher.
The orgasm exploded inside her. Hands clawing at the sheets on her bed, her body arched like a bow and she tried to breathe, but the air was stuck in her lungs. And still he didn’t stop, sucking and stroking until the wave broke and she collapsed, shuddering and gasping.
And crying. She was crying, tears pouring from her eyes, a sob pushing its way out of her chest. Instantly he was there, hovering over her, brushing the tears away.
‘Scarlett,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No.’ Unable to stop the tears, she let go of the sheets and ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hair tickle the flesh between her fingers. ‘It was . . . God, Marcus.’ She drew a breath and let it out, feeling her body settle, feeling the tightness in her chest begin to ebb. ‘I’ve never . . . not like that. Never like that. Just . . . intense. Give me a second to come down.’
But he didn’t, shoving his hands into her hair and taking her mouth with a fierceness that bordered on pain, but wasn’t. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and kissed him back, the taste of herself on his lips making her shiver violently. His hips thrust and rolled, his erection hard as iron against her inner thigh.
Blindly he groped under the pillow and pulled out a foil wrapper. ‘When did you put that there?’ she asked.
‘Before I got in the shower.’ He kissed her hard again, then pushed himself to his knees between her legs and ripped the packet with his teeth, almost snarling when she reached to help him. ‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘If you touch me, it’ll be all over.’
‘No, don’t let it be over. Not yet.’ Watching as he rolled the condom over himself, she licked her lips, a new thought surprising her. Going down on a man was never something she’d enjoyed, but seeing Marcus so huge and . . . beautiful, she knew she would. Not now, but later. She wanted to make him groan and beg the way he’d done to her.
She looked up and realized he’d been watching her stare at him, and that it had stoked him even higher. ‘Later,’ he growled, not even a hint of his normally smooth voice remaining. ‘I need to be inside you. Now.’ Bracing his weight on his arms, he thrust up into her in a single hard stroke, making her moan at the pleasure of being filled. Being taken.
It took her a second to realize that he’d stopped. ‘Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’ he asked with a frown. He was breathing hard, his arms trembling from the strain of holding himself immobile.
‘I’m fine,’ she breathed. ‘Better than fine. Don’t stop. Please.’
‘Thank God,’ he muttered, and began to move again. ‘You feel so good, I’m not sure I could have stopped.’
But he could have, and they both knew it. Because he was still in total control of himself. And her. He knew exactly what to do, how to move. All the right spots to make her moan. He aroused her with his body, but also with the expression he wore as he watched her. It was primal and possessive, proud and lustful, but also . . .
Reverent, she thought, emotion rising to fill her throat once again. He handled her carefully, utterly and completely focused on her every reaction, her every sigh. He made her buck and squirm beneath him, beg and curse and beg again until she wanted to scream from frustration. But still he held back.
He was making sure she felt pleasure even as he took his own, but suddenly that wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel him lose control. Wanted to feel the storm she saw in his eyes suck her in and draw her under.
She cupped his face in her hands, caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs. ‘Let go,’ she whispered. ‘Take what you want. I won’t break. I promise.’
He shuddered. ‘I can’t. I want too much. I’ll hurt you.’
This was an important moment – she knew it instinctively. One that would set the tone for all the moments to come. She hooked her foot around his calf and, using her other foot as leverage, flipped him to his back so quickly that he lay there, still deep inside her, staring, his eyes wide and stunned. And then darkly aroused. His jaw tightened, his hands gripping her hips so hard it hurt. But it was good hurt, especially when he yanked her hips down on him, driving even deeper up into her.
She leaned over, bit his lip. ‘I won’t break,’ she repeated, enunciating every word, then sat back and rode him hard.
A groan ripped out of his chest and he arched his back, digging his feet into the mattress so that he could push himself higher. Then he rolled them again and drove into her over and over, his thrusts bordering on savage. She met each one, locking his gaze with hers, daring him to slow down.
‘Not a chance, Detective,’ he muttered, and she laughed.
This, she thought, this is the way it’s supposed to be. The way we’re supposed to be.
They said nothing more, gazes locked. Marcus took her hands in his, threading their fingers together, the connection a tender one in stark contrast with the way their bodies were coming together everywhere else.
While the first orgasm had been an explosion, the second hit her like a storm surge, slowly and powerfully pushing every conscious thought out of its way, leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake.
She came down sighing his name, somehow knowing he’d been watching her the whole time, waiting until she could watch him. She squeezed his hands with her own, squeezed his erection with her inner muscles. ‘Now,’ she whispered. ‘Let me see.’
He did, and he was as beautiful as she’d known he’d be. Muscles straining, his erection throbbing and pulsing inside her, his body shuddering as he came. He exhaled once and shuddered as an aftershock kicked in. He released her hands, lowering his body from the push-up position he’d maintained throughout to rest his weight on his forearms. He dropped his forehead to rest gently against hers.
‘Scarlett.’ It was barely a murmur, but delivered in the velvet voice she’d heard in her dreams for nine long months.
She lifted her hands to stroke his face, her fingers tracing his lips. ‘This was more.’
‘Yeah. I knew it would be, but I still didn’t expect this.’ He kissed her then, long and lush, leaving her breathless once again. ‘I don’t want to move. Ever.’