Oh, my God, what iswrongwith me? I squeeze my eyes shut, but not before I see the dumbfounded expression on his face. The bed shakes with the force of his laughter, and he bends at the waist to rest his forehead on my belly, apparently so overcome that he can’t stay upright.
“It wasn’tthatfunny,” I mutter, although I’m biting my lip to keep from smiling.
When he lifts his head again, he has to wipe tears from his eyes. “You are a fucking delight, Evie Cruz. Where have you been all my life?”
He says it with such heartbreaking fondness, I don’t know how to respond. I’m certainly not going into detail about anything that happened more than three months ago, so I settle for a cheeky “Downstairs?”
“I’m so fucking glad you moved in.” Unlike mine, his tone is serious. And then he’s leaning over me, blocking out the light with those broad shoulders and nudging my center with his cock. “So fucking glad.”
I grip his arms, arching my back and moaning as he presses forward. His dick is as thick and heavy as the rest of him, but I’m so ready for this, I couldn’t wait another second if you paid me a million dollars.
Okay, maybeonesecond. But that’s it.
Because I need him. Needthis. I’ve imagined this moment for months, and now I need to experience the reality of how it feels to be with him.
He’s so much better than my fantasies.
His hips pump as he works himself into me, slow and steady. I whimper when he withdraws and clutch his arms on every thrust. It’s intense and incredible andholy hell, how is he not even all the way in yet?
I gasp when he pushes inside again. “You’re so fucking big.”
He grimaces. “I know. Sorry.”
“That wasn’t a complaint!”
He peers down at me with his hair falling in his face. His grin is a bright slash in the shadows, and I can’t help smiling back. I could fall for this man so, so easily. I don’t care that he’s my upstairs neighbor or that we’ve only known each other a few months. He thinks I’m afucking delight, and I find him irresistible. What more do I need?
When our hips finally press flush against each other, he lets out a ragged groan. “You feel incredible. God, Evie. Fuck. I ... Are you okay?”
Why, because you’ve stuffed my stocking with your massive candy cane?But I keep that thought to myself. See? Growth! Instead, I grab his ass cheeks with both hands andsqueeze. “I’m fine! Just move ... Yes, oh, God, like that.Like that.”
His hips snap, cautiously at first, then faster, until I’m being pushed farther up the mattress by the force of his thrusts. I hang on for dear life as pleasure unlike anything I’ve ever known—at least, with another human present—spirals through me in shimmering waves of ecstasy.
Pop culture references notwithstanding, he’s too tall, or I’m too short, for pure missionary. I ache to feel his chest pressed to mine, but watching the strain of muscles in his arms and neck is arousing in and of itself.
Then he sits back, draping my thighs over his hips, and uses one hand on my waist to pull me onto him, over and over.He lays his other hand flat on my belly and presses his thumb right over my clit, working me with fast, tight circles.
The combination is too good. I clutch the blankets above my head, writhing on him as short, breathy cries fall from my lips.
“That’s it, beautiful,” he croons in a husky voice. “Take what you want. Do you have any idea how fucking amazing you are? How fucking perfect?”
I babble something and shake my head because words are too hard right now and I can’t—I can’t—
“I’m coming.” The words are a sharp gasp, and I’m honestly surprised he understood me. But his face lights up like a goddamned Christmas tree, and he urges me on.
“Come on, Princess. You’ve got this. Come all over me ...Yesss.Goodgirl.”
His eyes flutter shut as I clench around him. My climax consumes me, whiting out my thoughts and savaging my body like a blizzard. He fucks me through it, and within seconds, he’s gripping my hips tight, pounding into me at a punishing pace.
My mind is mush but I try to memorize the moment he comes. The way he looks—teeth bared, head falling forward, his hair in his eyes. The way he feels—jammed to the hilt inside me, his strong fingers digging into my skin. The way he sounds—a staccato groan, followed by harsh breaths sawing in and out of his lungs.
We’re both still for a long moment before he opens his eyes and shakes the hair out of his face. The Santa hat fell off him at some point, but I couldn’t tell you when.
“You are exquisite,” he whispers.
But all I hear is my sister’s voice saying,Don’t shit where you eat.
Chapter Six
