“Bossy,” I repeated, but obliged, beginning to move within her with shallow, controlled thrusts. Every fiber of my being wanted to take her hard and fast. But something else made me choose gentleness instead.
I watched her face carefully, noting every flutter of her eyelashes, every parting of her lips. When her expression shifted from concentration to pleasure, when her breathing quickened and her nails dug into my shoulders, I increased my pace.
“You want to take more, don’t you darling?” I said, voice strained with the effort of holding back. Fuck, I needed her to say yes. I needed to go deeper. Faster.
“God, yes,” she breathed, arching beneath me.
I angled my hips, seeking that spot inside her that would make her forget everything but this moment, everything but my name. When I found it, her eyes widened and a moan broken by a gasp escaped her. Satisfaction surged through me that had nothing to do with physical pleasure and everything to do with giving her what she needed.
Her legs tightened around me, urging me deeper, and I complied, gradually increasing both pace and depth until the room filled with the sounds of our pleasure. Gasps, moans, the rhythmic creak of the bed, and Anica shrieking my name along with more profanities than I’d ever heard her use.
“God, Callan, Fuck. Right there,” she gasped as I shifted, finding an angle that had her inner muscles clenching around me. “Fuck! Don’t stop.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I assured her, kissing her hand as she clawed at my arm. I slid a hand between us, my thumb finding her clit, circling it in time with my thrusts. “Come for me.”
Her second climax was even more powerful than the first, her entire body tensing as she cried out. The feeling of her pulsing around me, combined with the expression of pure pleasure on her face, pushed me over the edge. My release hit me hard, intense enough that for a moment, everything else disappeared; the room, the bed, even my own name. There was only Anica, and the incredible sensations coursing through my body.
As I came back to myself, I was careful not to collapse on top of her, instead rolling to the side and gathering her against me. We lay in silence for a few minutes, both catching our breath, bodies still humming with pleasure.
“Wow. I’ve never…It’s never been that…” she began, then trailed off.
“Incredible? Mind-blowing? Perfect?” I suggested, unable to keep the smugness from my voice.
She pinched my side. “I was going to say ‘good,’ but your suggestions work too.”
“Good?” I repeated, feigning offense. “I just rocked your world, Marcel. I saw your toes curl. Multiple times.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” she replied, but her satisfied smile gave her away. “Though I suppose it was... adequate.”
“Adequate, she says,” I muttered, pulling her closer. “After making sounds that probably got us on a noise complaint watchlist.”
She laughed, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Fine. It was amazing. Your ego doesn’t need the boost, but yes, it was... memorable.”
“I’ll take ‘memorable,’” I conceded, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “Though I plan to upgrade that review to ‘life-changing’ and ‘best she’s ever had’ with a repeat performance later.”
“Confident, aren’t you?”
“Just goal-oriented,” I corrected, my hands beginning to wander again, exploring the dip of her waist, the curve of her hip. “And I always exceed expectations.” I grinned, grabbing her by the back of the neck and into a kiss. “How do you feel? Sore?” I murmured against her lips.
“Probably will be tomorrow.”
“Want to be extra sore?”
Anica trailed a finger down my chest. “What were you thinking?”
“Well, I’m going to go throw this condom away and when I come back, you better be on your hands and knees.”
“Oh? And if I’m not?” She ground against the side of my leg.
“Well,” I tapped my chin and made a puzzled expression, “I do have handcuffs I stole off a cop as a teenager. That, and some very nice leather belts.”
CHAPTER 15
Love Doesn’t Exist
ANICA
Iwoke up in a billionaire’s bed with sex hair and a full-body ache that suggested I’d been thoroughly railed. Multiple times. Callan had slung his arm possessively across my waist, his morning erection pressing insistently against my thigh. I shifted, weighing my options: sneak out before he woke, or stay and face the exquisitely awkward morning-after conversation.
