“Do you like to garden?”
“We used to help under protest when we were kids. I’ve been thinking about making some gardens now that the weather is warming. What do you think? Should we grow vegetables?” The entire time he spoke his fingers were busy, searching out tender spots. Dallas made it difficult to focus.
“Y-yes.”
“We can plant some lavender and mint.” Both scents swam around her in the cooling water and from the soap he was lathering onto a cloth.
“Lean forward and let me wash your back.” He suited actions to words, skimming the soapy cloth down her spine, moving onto her arms and legs, her stomach and breasts and last, a brisk, single stroke across her swollen sex.
She hissed at the strike of pleasure, groaned when the sensation didn’t grow. Instead it faded away and settled back on her clit, like a promise for the future.
“Stand up for me.”
Strong hands assisted her to rise, and he scrubbed the soapy cloth over her bottom until her flesh heated. When her legs threatened to buckle, he held her upright and rinsed away the suds, then with a crack of his hand over her buttocks, he urged her from the water.
His wash took place at a much brisker pace, and she’d scarcely picked up a towel when he was beside her, water streaming down his sculpted muscles. Drying took an equally short amount of time before he turned to her with a fresh towel in his hands. He removed the one she’d picked up to blot off the worst of the water, and she stood quiet while he dried her. His cock jutted out in a full-blown erection yet he ignored his desire to focus on her needs.
As he’d promised, by the time they reached the bedroom, her body cried for release, and she was convinced the merest touch of her finger would send her into orbit.
He paused to grab a condom and ripped the packet open with his teeth. A tremor traveled her body as she watched him. He was a visual feast, and she didn’t deserve the care he took of her. “On your hands and knees with your legs spread.”
“I thought the breast-fucking sounded interesting.”
“Another time. Promise, sweetheart.”
The blood in her veins thickened to syrup, slowing her brain function. She stared at him for an instant before swinging her legs over the bed and assuming the position he’d requested. Cool air surged across her swollen folds, the contrast with her hot flesh adding to her desperation.
She felt the weight of his stare the entire time, and when she turned her head, she was mesmerized by his right hand idly stroking his condom-clad shaft.
“God, you’re beautiful. I’m a lucky man.”
“I think I’m the lucky one.” She watched his gaze travel her body and shuddered. Eyes front again, she shifted her weight, felt her liquid desire, her readiness for him.
Dallas crawled onto the mattress. He braced his body over hers, taking the bulk of his weight on his arms. She wanted to photograph him. She wanted to caress his body as he’d touched hers. But she remained on all fours as he’d instructed, her breaths coming in choppy pants.
He slid into her body. They both sighed, and Laura savored the flex of her sheath around his cock. He retreated, an easy withdrawal. This was torture, yet it sizzled, so explosive, so perfect, she couldn’t find fault with his methods.
“Hell,” he muttered, withdrawing until the tip of his cock scraped her clit. Her entire channel rippled, bearing down on emptiness.
“Please,” she whispered.
His hips snapped as he filled her, giving her both the friction and the fullness she craved. This time he didn’t dawdle. Each hard stroke pushed her forward. A strangled cry burst past her lips as the first stirrings of excitement swept her with the force of a rogue wave. But he didn’t slacken or break his pace. The pleasure swelled with each uncompromising stroke into her body. Their flesh slapped together while her spirit soared, gloried in Dallas. He plunged into her, gave a grunt and stilled. A ripple of pleasure came again, but not enough. She closed her eyes, unaccountably wanting to cry.
Dallas held her for an instant longer and withdrew. Immediately, she missed the fullness of his cock, his sheltering frame. And she’d absolutely missed out in the orgasm stakes.
Latex snapped when he removed the condom, while she flopped to the mattress, wondering if she should say something, complain, because she sure as hell felt let down, or rather left hanging.
The mattress moved a fraction and her eyes flew open the instant she felt him between her splayed legs.
“Your turn,” he said, promise shimmering in his sexy, blue eyes, and in that moment Laura toppled past the last of her fears and smack into the middle of love.
