He hooked a hand around the outside of my thigh and settled in. Complete dedication.
Everything inside me ruptured, and pleasure infused every cell. “Tate! Oh god! Tate!”
I shook so much I had no idea how he could hold me up, but he kept going until I had nothing left. My foot started sliding off his shoulder. Only his face was holding me up now. I’d smother him. I’d end him. And then I’d have to explain to the town how I’d killed their adored bachelor with the orgasm he’d given me. But he anchored me in place.
Awareness came back as he pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to my inner thigh. “That was glorious, Miss Scarlett.” He dragged the skirt off his head. His hair was mussed and his beard glistened with…me. “Now it’s time to see you shatter when I’m inside you.”
“Again?” I’d orgasmed twice in one night before, but it’d been like a flooded engine trying to turn over. With a ton of concentration and sweat, eventually, I’d gotten there. This climax had been the strongest one ever. He expected me to do it again?
“Again,” he confirmed, rising. “I’ve been dreaming of getting under this teasing skirt all night. I’m going to fuck you in it. Then I’m going to strip it off and fuck you again.”
Two times? “I guess that’d make us even on the orgasm side,” I mumbled as he took out his wallet, withdrew a condom, and tossed his wallet on the floor with the rest of my stuff.
I was down to one article of clothing, and he’d shed only his wallet. Yet, coming until I screamed had robbed me of my earlier self-consciousness.
“Two for me. Three for you.” He ripped open the packet with his teeth and yanked his zipper down.
I could have contributed more to the undressing of him, but I was stuck on his words. “You think you’re going to make me come three times?”
“I know it.” He had his erection out and rolled on the condom.
Holy crap. His cock was out, and I was getting my own private show. My brain slowed down, focusing on his girth and the veins that lined him from tip to base. I wouldn’t be coherent after he was done with me.
He shoved his shirt out of the way, but it continued to fall over his thick cock. With a growl, he ripped his shirt off.
I was dreaming. He wasn’t real. His chest was a work of art. Were pecs supposed to look that hard? I flattened my palms on them. Warm and hard. Not a mirage.
“Later,” he said gruffly and lifted me. “I need to be in you.”
I automatically wrapped my legs around him and pulled my skirt out of the way. He positioned himself at my entrance, and we both looked down. My wet, swollen flesh surrounded the thick tip of him. Another private show, one I honestly had never watched before. He was rapt, rocking his hips to wet the broad tip. Then he slowly pushed inside, filling me as inch after inch disappeared.
A moan slipped out of me. I wasn’t this noisy girl during sex. I wasn’t a shouter. I didn’t cry out.
I, apparently, had been with all the wrong partners.
Until a bourbon bachelor had convinced me to go on a twenty-thousand-dollar date with him.
He eased out and pushed back in, tipping his forehead to mine. “You feel like heaven, do you know that? You’re so fucking hot and wet, and I can’t get enough, but I can barely last longer than two strokes.”
He was lying. I didn’t know what number stroke he was on, but my body was tracking each move, ratcheting higher toward another crest. And he was right there with me, taut except for the expert swing of his hips.
No fast, frantic fucking for Tate Bailey. He held my legs apart and plundered me. I twined my fingers into his hair and moved as much as I could with him.
“You’re coming again.” He kissed my cheek and worked his way down my neck. The silky roughness of his beard ignited my nerve endings, turning them into tiny fireworks.
“Oh” was all I could say. Then, another “Oh” when he hit the best spot deep inside me.
A small chuckle left him and he continued teasing my neck with his facial hair, but when he slid his fingers between us to rest on my clit, I realized he was playing me. He was the master of my body, and he knew exactly what to do.
I didn’t mind. With this, I trusted him.
Sensation from my neck to my clit bloomed. I didn’t know where my peak was until I rammed into it.
No coherent word left my mouth. I just cried out, long and loud. The second climax was more intense than the first. His hot tongue was at my neck, his hard cock pumping in and out, and his finger on my clit drew it all together into one blinding orgasm.
I was distantly aware of him climaxing with me, his strokes shortening, and my name grunted from his mouth.
Before I started my tumble down, I was aware of two things. I’d managed to keep my glasses on through all this. And Tate Bailey had ruined me for all other men.
