His tongue stabbed into her mouth as he popped the button on her jeans, undid the zipper. He seemed to have a thousand hands, because the jeans were gone in a blink. Then he boosted her up, braced her against the wall so he could rock against her. He was only wearing a pair of jeans now—and other than her panties, rough denim was all that separated him from her. His cock pulsed and she whimpered, feeling that sensation all the way down to her toes. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she clung tight, almost delirious with the pleasure.
He caught her tongue and sucked it into his mouth and then rubbed against her again.
Was it really possible to see sparks? Maybe even feel them? Because in that moment, she thought she was seeing, feeling . . . tasting—
Tearing her mouth away, she shoved him back. “Stop.”
He went still. “Stop?” His voice was harsh, uneasy, his breathing as ragged as her own.
“I can’t . . .” She had to wait a second to catch her breath. “I can’t breathe.”
The slow, wicked smile that curled his lips sent fire sizzling through her veins and she thought maybe, just maybe, she’d learn what it felt like to combust. “Good.” He leaned back in, but instead of covering her mouth with his, he pressed his lips to the curve where neck and shoulder met. She hissed out a breath, the heat of him scalding her, and the sensation of him raking his teeth down her skin sent shivers racing through every part of her.
She shivered as he trailed his lips in a downward path. His thumb caught one nipple and rolled it while he used his mouth, his tongue to trace the edge of the triquetra on her chest. “I love this,” he whispered against her flesh, and that was another caress all its own. “And this . . .” His fingers trailed up the unfinished tattoo on her side as he sank to his knees.
“There’s no tattoo there, Trey,” she murmured as he pressed a kiss to her hip.
The molten hot look he slid her all but sent her to her knees. This so was not going to help her get her breath back.
His lips skimmed along the lace edging the waistband of her panties.
Head falling back against the door, she felt the air in her lungs start to rasp in and out as he went lower, nuzzling her through the cotton of her panties. Anticipation sizzled, burned inside and broken, strange noises lifted in the air around her.
Me . . . that’s me . . . She figured it out only when he went to pull back and a harsh cry of denial escaped her.
Twisting her fingers in his short, dark hair, she stared at him, rolled her hips.
He followed the waistband of her panties to her hipbone and she shivered as he brushed a kiss to the new tattoo she’d started working on when she’d gotten back from Trenton. A butterfly kiss to the book inked on her flesh, then another, just a little higher—how many damn books did she have on that tattoo?
She thought she might die until he muttered something under his breath and caught the waistband of her panties, dragged them down. She stepped out of them, but he kept her from doing anything else merely by putting a hand on her belly.
The brush of his hair against her inner thighs was soft.
His mouth was hot, wet.
The scrape of his teeth over her clit was a white-hot pleasure that had her arching closer while a broken moan ripped from her.
He growled against her and she felt the vibration all the way to the soul of her. Pressing him closer, she unconsciously curled one leg around his upper body, opening herself.
He stabbed his tongue inside and the sensation was intense, all consuming. Panting out his name, she forced herself to look down and then she jolted, because he was watching her. Through his lashes, eyes rolled up so that he could see over the plane of her body, he stared at her.
That intimate connection lit her up even more thoroughly than the way he slid one hand up her thigh in the next moment, placing two fingers against the swollen entrance to her pussy as he started to push in.
Her hands went to his shoulders and she clutched at him, feeling the orgasm gathering inside—gathering her—like everything inside her waited on this. Just this—
He twisted his wrist as he screwed his fingers in and she came with a hoarse, unintelligible cry. If he hadn’t been right there, ready to brace her, catch her, she would have fallen.
And damn if she would have cared.
* * *
She was still shaking, still shuddering, when Trey rose to his feet. He leaned against her, his cock pulsating, the need a monster inside him.
Settling his hips against hers, he waited until her lashes lifted, until the sleepy, almost drugged look started to fade. She closed her hands around his hips, a smile flirting with the corners of her mouth.
He wanted—needed—to kiss her. The taste of her was still heavy in his mouth and he wanted to share that with her, join it with the taste of her kiss as he sank inside. Catching one of her wrists, he guided it down, pressed her hand to his cock, rigid behind the confining material of his jeans. She molded her fingers around his cock, squeezed.
“My condoms are in the truck,” he said, his voice flat. “I didn’t think about it until a couple of minutes ago.”
She blinked, her lashes flickering down to shield her eyes.
Then she tightened her hand around him, gave his cock another taunting, teasing squeeze. “I’m on the pill.” She stroked her hand up, then down. “I can wait, though. If you need to go get them . . .”
“Do I?” he asked as their gazes locked, held.
Instead of answering, she freed his cock and the feel of her fingers, cool and strong on his flesh, was almost too much. He jerked in her hand, the need to close her fingers around him, rock into her touch almost overpowering.
“Not on my account,” she said softly.
Watching her, he nudged her hands out of the way and shoved the jeans, his boxers, down, kicking them out of the way. Eyes still on hers, he boosted her up, steadying her against the door. Hooking her knees over his elbows, he looked down, staring at her—her sleek, golden brown thighs, the heart of her—so wet, her flesh pink and ready for him. “Put me inside you,” he said, his voice barely more than a growl.
She shivered and he shot a quick look up, saw the glassy look in her eyes as she stared down—watching them as well. Too much. It was—
Bliss—
* * *
“Oh. . . .” She arched, as best as she could, as the first few inches of him slid inside. Swollen and thick, his skin silken, but ridged, the sensation of him bare inside her was an erotic, seductive pleasure.
His fingers bit almost brutally into her as he pulled out, his cock rasping over swollen, sensitive tissue and then he sank back inside, tugging her against him as he moved. Not all the way inside—no, about halfway he stopped, and then retreated, using that same, mind-blowingly slow pace.
After a third, then fourth time when he still hadn’t filled her all the way, she cried out and twisted, tried to close herself around him, and his entire body went rigid. “Please,” she gasped out.
He tensed, so still against her. She could see the pulse throbbing within his neck, see the searing, intense blue of his eyes—
He drove in, deep, so deep, it ripped a scream out of her as she arched her back. It was like she felt him in every part of her—body and soul.
He let go of her knees to lock his arms around her and Ressa twined her legs around him, desperate to be as close as she could.
Her name was a snarl on his lips and she turned her mouth to meet his, breathless before he’d even kissed her.
His cock, already bruising, seemed to swell, and she moaned under the onslaught—his cock driving inside, his kisses dominating her mouth, his entire being overwhelming—taking her in.
The orgasm grabbed her by the throat, all but slammed her to the ground with its ferocity. Nearly knocked unconscious from the power of it, she was only vaguely aware of him still moving against her—then he tensed, groaning her name.