And he gave too. Oh, how he loved giving. Loved learning a woman’s body. Loved hearing the noises she made when ecstasy overtook her.
And Samantha… Samantha was his greatest challenge, greatest triumph yet.
“Too long since what?” She was still watching him.
“Since I had sex. If you touch me now, I won’t last. And I want it to last. I want it to go on forever.”
“Wh—”
Before she could ask whatever she was poised to ask, he whipped her sweatshirt over her head and tossed the garment onto the island beside them.
“Turnabout is fair play,” he told her when she blinked in surprise. Her dark hair cascaded around her slim shoulders. Her pale skin was pink with a blush of desire. But the lacy cups of her bra—this one, bright red—were what held his attention. Because the bra was peekaboo lace. And her nipples showed through the material, taunting him with their hardened peaks, beckoning him with their sweet, rosy color.
His tongue glued itself to the roof of his mouth. His balls pulled up close to his body. And his dick flexed and bowed as another drop of pre-ejaculate rolled over his heated crown to dampen the waistband of his shorts.
She was beautiful from the top of her dark head to the tips of her sparkly toes. Beautiful in the way only a woman in her prime sexual years could be. Gone was the skinny, tomboyish angularity of youth. She was all soft curves and smooth skin. Narrow waist. Flaring hips. And red lace that covered creamy mounds of flesh.
Their breaths were ragged as they stared at each other, wanting each other. Their eyes hot as they devoured inches of flesh and sought more. She caught her lower lip between her teeth when, with one finger, he slowly traced the edge of one cup, savoring the contrast between her silky skin and the lacy material. Savoring the moment before he pulled down the cup and revealed her, like a kid opening his last Christmas present, trying to draw the moment out for as long as possible.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, trailing his finger over the strap, gently pulling it from her shoulder.
“I could say the same about you.” She ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, across his chest. The blood beneath his skin rose to her delicate touch until every inch of him was vibrating, even the torn muscles in his leg. When she feathered her fingers over his nipples, causing the centers to contract into tight nubs of pleasure, he hissed. And when she used the edge of her thumbnail to gently abrade the skin, he begged for mercy with one breath and egged her on with the next.
He wanted to stand there, just stand there and let her touch him, but his control was dangling by a thread. And before it snapped, before reason left him, he wanted to see her. Appreciate the subtle nuances that made her Samantha.
The female form in all its glorious incarnations had always brought him pleasure. There was nothing in the world, to his mind, more marvelous than a woman. And a woman being ridden by lust? One who was soft and sexy in her need? Forget about it. That was the closest thing he’d ever seen to heaven.
“I want to look at you. All of you,” he told her.
“Then look.” She crossed her ankles behind his thighs and pulled him tight against her. She was so unabashedly sensual. So brazenly wanton.
His eyes crossed when the heated head of his dick kissed the warm, soft flesh of her bare belly. His own wetness slicked her skin, and the satiny feel of it must have turned her on, because she moaned, low and long, and once again wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to press her mouth to his.
There was nothing gentle in her kiss, nothing hesitant. Just female need. Just a woman’s demand.
He gave in to it. He couldn’t not give in to it. As if he were a junkie taking his first hit, Samantha’s initial kiss had caused an addiction in him. Now, the exotic taste of her ran hot in his blood. He craved her. He needed her.
He met her kisses with everything that was in him—all the fight, all the knowledge, all the passion. And still it wasn’t enough. He wanted to devour her, consume her, become so much a part of her that it would be impossible to tell where she started and he ended.
Her catching breaths urged him onward. Each flick of her tongue between his teeth felt like a benediction. Samantha was a star, burning bright and hot in his arms. Shining all around him until the darkness inside him had nowhere to hide. He was washed clean by her glow. Doubts? Gone. Self-pity? Gone.
It was just her. Just glorious, wonderful Samantha clinging to him so tightly that he felt every breath she took, every beat of her wild heart.
He couldn’t wait another minute.
Never breaking the suctioned wonder of their mouths, he softly pulled her remaining bra strap from her shoulder. Using his free hand, he reached behind her back to unhook her bra. But his fingers fumbled with the task, shocking him. He hadn’t bumbled a bra in years, knew every kind of closure and snap there was and could undo them without thought. But now, when it mattered most, he botched the job like a horny teenager trying to cop his first feel.
He knew why. He was shaking. She made him shake. With need. With desire. It was too much…and not enough. Part of him wondered if it would ever be enough.
Get out of your own head, you idiot!
Right. Sound advice. He made a second attempt at her bra.
Success!
The closure popped open, and she shivered when he carefully pulled the scrap of lace from her body, tossing it aside. And then, with a nipping kiss to the corner of her swollen mouth, he lifted his head and did what he wanted to do. He…looked.
Fuck. Me.
