She pressed down harder on the next pass; the zipper scraped a whisper of friction against her clit, sending sparks through her nipples and tightening them to aching points. His jaw ticked, and his fingers flexed against the couch, but he resisted the urge to grab hold of her and take over.
She rewarded him with a light kiss, teasing his mouth open with her tongue and pulling back when he did. She ignored the growl and smiled inwardly.
“Rush,” she murmured. “Look at me.”
His gaze snapped up, and she held it, refusing to look away. She shifted again, slower this time, letting him feel the slick heat of her through the fabric of his trousers. Her hands drifted lower, brushing over the tight ridges of his stomach, and she smiled faintly when he inhaled sharply—an inhale that never quite made its way back out—as she traced the outline of his cock through his trousers.
She didn’t rush. She took her time unbuttoning him, savoring the way anticipation sharpened the tension in his body. The button came loose under her fingers, then the zipper, shockingly loud in the quiet room. She pushed the fabric asideand slipped her hand inside, her fingertips brushing warm skin and coarse hair before curling around him.
She freed him slowly. He was beautifully erect, thick and heavy, jutting up proudly through a thick nest of dark hair, and she shivered at the knowledge of what he could do to her.
The pleasure he could bring her. She wanted it all.
She stroked him, marveling at the contrast—the hot, silken skin stretched over steel. He twitched in her hand, the muscles in his chest and stomach hardening, but he stayed utterly still, letting her explore. His restraint made her bolder. She shifted to guide him lower, teasing the thick head through her slick folds, coating him but keeping him just outside her entrance. Just enough to make them both groan.
His eyes caught on her hand between them, watching as she slicked him up and down her wetness before circling her clit for the sheer pleasure of it. Again. Again. Again, until she shuddered.
“Now. I want to fuck you now,” she gasped.
His composure snapped. His big hands clamped down hard on her waist, hauling her over him. Thighs trembling, she lowered herself slowly onto him, inch by inch. The stretch was exquisite, stealing her breath, pulling a sound from her throat she couldn’t have smothered if she’d tried.
She sank down until he was buried fully inside her. A low sound dragged out of him, rougher than a groan, and she paused. The fullness made her dizzy, the pulse of him throbbing deep where she was stretched tightly around him. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, clinging to the solid wall of muscle beneath.
The world narrowed to the hot slide of her body over his, the unbearable heat of him inside her. She rolled her hips to feel every ridge, every deep drag of him, forcing him to take all of her, forcing him to feel.
His hands twitched at her waist while they stayed like that, eyes locked on each other. His next breath caught and held, their breathing mingling. The rawness of it all made her dizzy. For the first time, something flared in his eyes, something vulnerable and raw she’d never seen before. She smiled in return, content to give now instead of take.
Then the connection snapped. His breath hitched—not with lust, but something sharper. He masked it fast, but she caught it anyway. Whatever softness she’d almost coaxed out of him vanished, sealed under steel.
His grip clamped down hard when he surged up, dislodging and then disconnecting them. “On your knees,” he ordered. He set his jaw, changing before her eyes. Walling himself off.
Dazed at the suddenness, the change, she hesitated. “What?—”
“Do you want this, darlin’?” he said, all liquid-honey Texas drawl and carefully blank eyes. He gripped his cock and stroked once, a rough pull that made her insides quiver with longing.
“Yes.” The whisper tore from her. Lord, at this moment, she did. She wanted him—wanted this—but God, she wished he’d stayed with her in that moment. Tender. Open.
The corner of his mouth curved, but whatever vulnerability she’d glimpsed in him moments before was gone.
“How?” she asked somewhat uncertainly. Her repertoire of sex positions was lacking.
“Knees here,” he grunted, guiding her hands and knees across the couch cushions. Her face turned toward the Christmas tree, a happy twinkle in an otherwise somber room. A large, rough hand pressed between her shoulders, bending her forward until her hair spilled over her face, covering her eyes and blocking out the lights.
The first heavy thrust stole her breath.
The careful, tender rhythm she’d built was gone; a new onetook its place. Every stroke was relentless, and her body was ready to take it. His cock stretched her, dragging over sensitive nerve endings until her toes curled against the cushions and she bit down on a cry. Her body met his instinctively, caught on the tenterhooks of pleasure and pain, even as her head still reeled.
“Oh,” she breathed into her arms, unable to stop herself from pushing back into each heavy thrust. Her frantic motions put them out of sync, and he gripped her hips harder to keep her still. It was hard and rough enough to drown out any other physical sensation.
“Take it,” he growled.
Pleasure tore through her, jagged enough to leave invisible cuts. She let it build because her body demanded release, even as her heart reeled at what had just happened.
He pounded into her, driving her into the couch until her muscles collapsed under his weight and she let go, spiraling higher, tighter, until it all snapped.
Her orgasm ripped through her in a violent surge, shattering her. She cried out, her body clenching around him, even as he yanked her hips back to him, chasing his own release with a single-minded determination. With one last deep thrust, he buried himself deep, his entire body shuddering.
Lily’s muscles gave out under her weight, and she sank deep into the cushions, trying to catch her breath and understand what had just happened.
