“They don’t call it the little death for nothing.” She levered herself upright and sagged against him, finding her legs almost too weak to hold her up. “Although I’m not usually so loud.”
He moved back to let her through the door. “I’m not buying that,” he said, following her into the room. “I bet you make all kinds of noises.” He caught her around the waist from behind and swung her onto the bed, making her yelp. “Like that.”
She turned into him with a throaty chuckle. “Give me reasons to make noise and you’ll see.”
And then he did and the laughter was forgotten.
How extraordinary it was that they could morph that quickly from heated intensity to laughter and back to passion. His mouth was urgent against hers, his hands demanding on her breasts. When she slid her fingers down, she found his cock harder than ever, almost flat up against his belly.
“Tell me you were serious about those condoms,” he said hoarsely.
“In my bag, on the bedside bureau.”
He handed it to her. With clumsy fingers, she dug out the condom, tore open the package. “Roll over on your back,” she murmured.
“Wait, I want to—”
“Roll over.” She pressed his shoulder.
DON COULDN’T REMEMBER having been so turned on in his entire life. His cock ached, he ached with the need to drive himself into her. He waited to feel her roll on the condom.
Instead, he felt the warm heat of her tongue. And his fingers clenched the sheets. “I want to be in you,” he said raggedly. Then he realized that she was rolling the condom onto him with her mouth. And even through the latex, he felt the soft stroking pressure that had him grinding his teeth. “You really are trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” His voice was tight with strain.
Delaney just chuckled, but she started using her hand, too, to speed things up.
He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.
And then it was on. She worked her way up to straddle him. “Now, what was that about being in me?” she murmured.
He caught her by the shoulders and flipped her onto the mattress and poised himself over her. She looked like some goddess of eroticism, her eyes large and dark, her lips swollen from his. And with a mischievous, knowing smile, she reached down to take him in her hands, to rub him through the slickness between her thighs.
It had come to this, all the anticipation, all the banter, all the caresses. It had come to this breathless moment when it was just the two of them, their naked bodies and no barrier at all between what was him and what was her.
And then he pumped his hips and the two were one.
It tore a cry from her, a cry echoed by his groan.
“Is it all right?” He trembled with the effort of not moving in the sheath of her tight, wet heat.
She let out a held breath. “Oh, yeah,” she said, and he began to slide, cautiously, clenching his jaw with the need for control. “Oh, glory, it’s better than all right,” she breathed. “And it’ll be better still when you really fuck me.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” he told her.
“No, right now you’re trying to be careful, trying to go slow.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Trust me, big boy, you won’t.”
Gradually, his strokes lengthened, deepened until he was moving rhythmically. He’d tried to imagine it all those years ago, taken the stories he’d heard, the kisses he’d stolen, the fevered moments he’d had of finding his own private release. He’d tried to imagine what it would be like to slide into her, how soft, how slick, how hot.
He’d fallen miserably short of the mind-blasting pleasure. She was under him, lithe and strong, her legs around his waist, pumping her hips against him, tightening on every stroke so that every inch of him was straining to hold himself back. And oh, those throaty little moans of hers worked on him, pushing him even closer to the point of no return.
“Come on,” Delaney muttered, clutching his back, wrapping her legs up higher. “You can do better than that. Let it go, let it go. Oh, like that.” Her voice rose like an incantation as he pumped harder, faster. He felt her rake his back with her nails and the last vestiges of civilization fell away. Unleashed, he stroked into her, searching out his own ecstasy, hearing hers in her cries.
Pleasure became pain, pain became pleasure, labels irrelevant in the face of such utter sensory overload. Delaney felt him so deep she thought he was going all the way through her. Every instant she was sure she couldn’t take another moment of it, and she couldn’t bear to have it end as each stroke dragged her past any feeling she’d ever known. So she clutched at his slippery back, trying to hold on to her sanity even as she cried out without volition, her body drawn tight with tension. She felt the orgasm looming, building, swelling, enormous and more intense than she’d ever felt before with anyone.
Head flung back on the pillow, she opened her eyes and found Dom staring down at her, his eyes burning with heat, his face taut. “Come on, give it to me,” he muttered and slammed into her hard.
And suddenly the climax exploded along her entire body, shaking her, shattering her into a million burning pieces. Dimly, she heard herself crying out and felt Dom stroke a handful of times more before he spilled himself into her while she was still convulsing.
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