He laughed once and then started to move, setting a pace that had me clinging to him. I clutched his shoulders, his arms, his neck, whatever I could reach, and matched his rhythm, the force of his hips pushing me into the mattress. He groaned, pinning me beneath him, his weight forcing me to take in shallow breaths. A light sheen of sweat slicked our skin, and our movements became jerkier, less coordinated, our primal instinct to chase release overtaking finesse.
Heat, friction, need, desperation — everything was magnified, and all I wanted was more. I lost control, abandoning myself to the moment knowing he was as close as I was.
My heels dug into his ass, and he ground deep against me, rubbing his pelvic bone against my clit. I flew apart, tightening before shattering beneath him and calling out his name as I came. He wrapped an arm under my lower back as his movements became a blur, his hips plunging over and over until he gave two hard thrusts and shuddered against me, rocking slowly as he rode out his own orgasm. He held his breath as he flexed one last time, and then he pulled his arm out and collapsed, his cock still throbbing faintly inside of me.
I rubbed my hands up and down his back, relishing the way his body pinned me to the bed, anchoring me, as I gradually recovered from his onslaught. My body felt boneless, like putty to be molded by his hands. Our heartbeats eased in unison, and his breath slowed against my neck. He pressed soft kisses there, tickling me a little. My skin felt oversensitive and raw now that we were done.
Lifting off of me, he slipped from the room for a moment. I heard a rustle in the bathroom, and then he was back, pulling the covers down and gathering me to him until I lay on top of him, my head pillowed on his shoulder. He drew the quilt up to our waists, and I snuggled closer, utterly content. His fingers sketched an abstract pattern over my back, and he pressed his lips to the top of my head before rubbing his cheek against me.
“That was almost as good as I imagined.” His chest rumbled against my ear as he spoke, and it took a minute for his words to register.
I reared back. “Excuse me?”
“We skipped a step.” His tone was soft, almost sad, and it was the only thing saving him from a slap in the face.
What the fuck did he mean, we skipped a step? My brows knitted in confusion. I came, and I sure as hell felt him finish.
Smiling, he smoothed my wrinkled brow, ran his finger down the length of my nose, and then traced my lips. I made a sound in the back of my throat and jerked my face away from him, and he dropped his hand.
“It’s okay.” He leaned up and pecked my lips. “We can fix it.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Look, maybe I’m not as experienced or flexible or—”
He pressed his finger against my lips, silencing me. “You were great. Fucking mind blowing. But in my fantasies,” he paused to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and his words echoed in my head — you’ve had fantasies about me? — “I always fall asleep with the taste of you in my mouth.”
I blinked at him, and he traced my sex until I understood what he was implying.
“Oh. Well.” I licked my lips. “What are you waiting for?”
He gave a wolfish grin before flipping me on my back. Pinning my arms next to my head, he slid down my body until he was nestled between my thighs. He let go of my arms and drew my legs over his shoulders, shifting until he had me how he wanted me. Reaching back up, he took hold of my breasts, caressing them.
He placed soft kisses all around my folds, taking his time, teasing me, but not touching me where I wanted it most. I squirmed, restless, and rotated my hips. He pinched my nipples in reproach and then soothed them with his palms. I stilled. Finally, he took the flat of his tongue and slowly, oh, so slowly, licked all the way up my center.
Yes.
My hands gripped his short hair, and I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. His lips and tongue explored every inch of my slit, licking and sucking, but always keeping the pressure light to tease and torment me. I tugged his hair and lifted my hips, needing more friction.
His fingers converged from my breasts to just my nipples, rolling and tugging them. I moaned, burrowing deeper into the bed. Finally, his mouth zeroed in on my clit. Taking that sensitive nub between his lips, he sucked, stroking it with tongue. When he hit that perfect spot, the one that made every nerve in my body fire simultaneously, I couldn’t help bucking against him, and his lips stretched into a smile before he did it again. And again. He increased his speed and pressure, sucking me harder until I was writhing beneath him, my head digging into my pillow. His fingers tightened on my nipples, and he stroked me with his tongue until I was crying out, “Right there… right there… oh God, yes… now… now! West!”
Light splintered behind my eyelids, and I bowed my back, pressing my hips upward, desperate for more of him. I clutched his head to me with my hands and my thighs until it was just too much, and when I relaxed my death grip, he slowed, kissing me as the aftershocks rocked through me. When I could do nothing but lay there in a helpless puddle of satisfaction, he climbed back up next to me.
His eyes glittered as he took in my slack features. “That’s what I dreamed about. That look right there. And knowing that I put it there.”
I tried to come up with a snappy retort to keep his ego in check, but really, what could I say? The man had a golden tongue. So I’d let him have this one.
Smiling, I rolled over onto my stomach, snuggling into my pillow and closing my eyes. Who needed sweet dreams with sex like that? He gathered me in his arms and pulled me up against him. His thigh worked its way between mine and his hand reached under me until he cupped my breast. His nose brushed against my hair, and he inhaled, breathing me in. He kissed the back of my head softly. Almost tenderly.
I was more asleep than awake as I tried to figure out what was happening. He was snuggling me. Granted, I loved to snuggle. It was the one thing I missed the most about being in a relationship. But West? He didn’t strike me as the staying-to-cuddle-afterwards type.
So why wasn’t he leaving? It was the last thought I had before sleep claimed me.
CHAPTER 9
I woke up to the insistent beeping of my cell chirping at me from some far corner of the room. Still groggy, I followed the noise to behind the rocking chair and located the damn thing under the lobster pillow that had been chucked the night before. I punched at it, silencing it, and crawled back under the covers. I stretched, yawning, feeling a well-used achiness in certain muscles, and then I froze with realization.
I was alone.
I looked around. His clothes were missing. Water wasn’t running in the bathroom. Puzzled, I crept over to the window and pulled the curtain aside to peek. No truck. He was gone.
I collapsed back on the bed again, not sure how I felt about that. Had I really expected him to stick around for the awkward morning after? He was doing us both a favor by disappearing. That way, when we bumped into each other next time, we could both kind of pretend this little one-night stand never happened and keep things casual. Easy.
Just like I wanted.
And yet, I couldn’t help the little frisson of disappointment I felt at not waking up in his arms. Getting one last kiss.
Especially after last night’s epic orgasms.
Turning, I buried my head in the pillow and inhaled. I could still smell him. I wondered how long it would last if I didn’t clean my sheets. One night? A week? I could see now why Rue always went back to the guy’s place. My bed was awash with memories of West and me tangled together. There was no way I wouldn’t be thinking about it when I went to bed tonight. Alone.