“Hmm. I’m going to call you Dimples from now on.”
“I don’t have…oh.”
With a chuckle, Michael prodded her slick entrance and penetrated her, sinking deep. Emily cried out, amazed her poor nerve endings could still get excited. He felt so different from Trent, so new. She wasn’t in the habit of comparing her lovers, but the comparisons made themselves. Michael stretched her and all she could do was shake her head in wonderment.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. You just feel…”
Michael moved slowly, retreating at his leisure. “How do I feel, Em?” He thrust deep.
“Oh, God.” She clutched at the sheets. “So good.”
He rewarded her for her whimpers by smacking her ass, making her body tighten around him.
“Jesus, Michael.”
“That’s it. Say my name, only my name.”
“Michael.” She sighed. “Michael.”
“Good girl. Now say, ‘Michael Zorn’s cock is so awesome I want to frame it.’”
She burst out laughing. “It is awesome.”
He filled her with such light, such happiness, and she loved that he could make her laugh at a time like this. Trent had always been so serious in bed, as if his flinty solemnity was a measure of his prowess.
As he breached her again, she snatched at her breath and all thoughts of Trent evaporated. Michael ground over her, thrusting deeper, and Emily became unable to enunciate any sort of sound. She gasped, clinging to the mattress as if clinging to life.
“Em,” he said on a grunt. “Goddammit.”
Something stirred inside her. Lust spiraled through her core, forcing her to confront her savage need. Each thrust broke her down. Each impact proved her undoing. Strangely enough, it didn’t take long the second time. They’d both wanted it too much. Even though she came again, and at a pace that astounded her, she was no less satisfied. Michael filled her, and not just on a carnal level. He understood what made her sigh. He moved in ways programmed to drive her wild.
He touched her as no one had ever touched her and left her wanting more.
They came together on hushed cries. Once he finished, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to his chest. His heartbeat, rapid and almost audible, matched hers.
He brushed his lips against the back of her neck. “Don’t move.” He withdrew and headed to the washroom to dispense of the condom.
She had no choice but to move and flopped onto her back. She watched as he emerged, lit from behind from the bathroom light. His thigh muscles flexed as he walked. So gorgeous…and hard.
She lifted a weak finger. “That’s not possible.”
“Oh, it is.” He lay atop her and kissed the line of her jaw. “I hope you’re a night owl, Dimples, because I don’t plan to sleep for a while.”
Emily wrapped her legs around him. She had no arguments.
***
Around three in the morning, Emily awoke out of a sound sleep and yet another dream of Michael using his tools. Only this time, his tool hadn’t been of the metallic variety. As consciousness crept in, she swallowed. Her throat felt like sandpaper.
I hope you’re a night owl, Dimples.
He had been as good as his word.
Smiling, Emily reached across the bed but he’d vacated the spot next to her. Sitting up, she noticed the line of light coming in beneath the closed bedroom door. Shuffling noises emanated from down the hall.
Thinking Michael might be scrambling in her kitchen, hungry for a snack after their late-night aerobics, Emily got out of bed and threw on a robe. She opened the bedroom door and padded down the hall.
