“I want to take you inside,” I murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered into my mouth.
With that one word, I stood and held tight to her, unwilling to part even for that short distance. My hands held her aloft by the ass, and her legs wrapped around my waist as I stepped out of the tub.
She devoured my lips, her passion fierce and sweet. I shoved my feet into the boots and managed to fling her robe over her to keep her from getting too chilled. My fiery blood would keep me warm. I carried her to the chalet, my injured leg barely twinging.
We made it inside, me kicking off my boots, ready to carry her up the stairs, but her shivering, damp body changed my mind.
The rug in front of the wood stove wasn’t some deep lush shag, but the spot proved toasty warm. I snared the blanket from the couch and flung it down. I tugged the damp robe free before lowering her onto it. Her bathing suit remained but rolled down to her waist.
It took me but a second to remove it and bare her fully to me. I stared and she opened her eyes, uncertainty filling them.
She still doubted.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous,” I growled before covering her body with mine, but bracing my weight on my forearms so as to not crush as I kissed her.
She latched on to me and writhed, her flesh rubbing against mine, teasing and driving me wild.
I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. To slam my cock in and make her mine. But I reined that impulse in because more than my own pleasure, I wanted hers. Tonight was all about her.
With my palms flat on the floor, I began to inch my way down, trailing kisses down her neck. Nuzzling the rounded globes of her breasts. Peach perfection. Her nipples were hard and sensitive to the touch. She gasped when my lips brushed them. Cried out when I sucked.
As I played with her tits, I shifted my body to the side that my hand might trail down her belly, dragging my fingers through her pubes, teasing between her legs.
She sighed and writhed, her panting and flushed skin the most powerful aphrodisiac. My fingers parted her pussy lips and met moisture, not from the tub. No, that slick honey was hers and hers alone.
And I needed a taste.
Now.
I positioned myself between her parted legs and she gasped as I blew hotly on her. Her hips bucked. I placed a hand on her belly to keep her in place as I did more than breathe. I licked. My tongue slipped between her lips and lapped. Ambrosia hit my tongue; her desire the sweetest taste.
I teased her sex before flicking her clit. That sensitive nub didn’t need much to have her arching and whimpering. I teased it. Flicked it. And as I drove her to the brink, slid a finger into her tight warmth.
She clenched and panted, reached down to grab my hair and the painful tugs almost made me come.
Her passion was all I needed. All I wanted.
Actually, not true. I wanted her to climax. Against my mouth. For me.
And as if my wish were heard, she did.
Her pussy clamped down hard on my finger and she uttered a keening noise, quickly muffled as she shoved a fist in her mouth.
Shame. I would have loved to hear the full scream.
But at least I felt her orgasm. The ripple as she came hard.
And then I did what I thought she needed most. I lay down beside her and drew her close to me, skin to skin.
Only she shoved away.
“We’re not done,” she announced.
I opened my mouth but couldn’t speak as she suddenly sat astride me, her hands tugging my damp swim shorts down, exposing me.
My manhood jutted proudly, but I couldn’t help but be reminded of my own scars. Much more terrible than hers.
