On my fucking lap.
And I was already hard.
But now the cradle of her pelvis is?—
“Starfire,” I rasp, hands on her hips, trying desperately to hold her in place rather than pull her closer and grind up against her.
Because I’ve gone from hard to granite.
“Why do you call me that?” she asks, settling more firmly against me, making a groan rumble up my throat. I bite it back, my dick so fucking hard it’s a wonder I have any blood left in my brain to form words.
Still, I manage to have enough remaining to ask, “What?”
Okay, it’s not exactly Shakespeare and when she settles more heavily against me, I can’t hold back my groan, can’t stop my hips from jerking up against her.
Fuck.
Too much.
Too fast.
“Easy,” she murmurs, dropping her hands to my chest, running them lightly up and down.
Fuck, but what I wouldn’t give to have her do that while we’re both naked.
But…patience.
I don’t want to scare her.
I won’t scare her.
“I’m okay,” she says softly.
“You’re—” I shake my head, trying to clear it. “I don’t want to—” I try to find the strength to lift her off me. Really, I do.
But it’s like my muscles have stopped functioning.
“I’m fine,” she says. “I promise.”
“But—”
She bends and brushes her lips over mine. “Fine. Now, did Damon threaten to murder you if you so much as laid a hand on me?”
“No,” I say and it’s more groan than actual word because she’s begun rocking against me.
“No?” she asks.
“No.” Fuck, she’s beautiful, light in her eyes, hair cascading down around her shoulders. “He said I’d be dead already if he thought I’d hurt you.”
She freezes, her pelvis lifting from mine, and I fucking hate the loss of her body from mine.
So much so, my hands flex and I drag her back down against me.
Her gasp slices through me.
Fuck.
Too much.
