April arches against me with a weak whimper, her stomach meeting my chest, and I slide my arm wholly around her waist, holding her in place. My teeth graze over her sensitive nipple, and her breath catches before my name breaks from her lips. She buries her fingers in my hair, and they seem to simultaneouslypushandpull, like she can’t decide whether she wants to keep me right there.
“Fuck,” I rasp, unlatching for just enough time to shift to her other breast. Her responsiveness is goddamn intoxicating, and I can feel myself getting harder and my head getting lighter.
“Please,” she whispers, her hips rocking up just slightly against my stomach.Dear god. How could I say no to that?My lips release her, my body shifting until the tip of my cock is pressing right where she’s warmest, softest,wettest.
Her hips shift again.
“You don’t want me to stretch you out first?”
Her blonde hair shifts against the pillow as she shakes her head, her hand coming up to grasp the junction of my neck and shoulder. “Don’t care,” she breathes, pulling at me, urging me down to her.
That’s all the encouragement I need.
I lower my face just inches from hers, watching as she stares down between us, her breath hitching in anticipation. My fingers knot in the hair at her nape, my breath a little ragged, my cock dragging slowly between her lips, smearing her dampness across myself.
“Look at me, princess.” My fingers tighten in her hair. “Let me see you.”
Her eyes flicker up to mine, so blown I can barely see the green; her lips are puffy like she was biting them in her sleep.Fuck, she’s beautiful. She’stoobeautiful.
“Good girl,” I whisper, barely trusting my own voice as I raise her thigh up with my free hand.
I hold her gaze as I enter her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She winces, just slightly, before the crease in her brow smooths. It’s intense, and I have to force myself to move like I’m wading through molasses so I don’t unintentionally hurt her. Ialso want to move slowly to enjoy her and this moment. I want to remember it.
“You feel too fucking good,” I breathe, my forehead dropping to hers in defeat. I bottom out, holding myself there, controlling my breathing, and I can feel the way she trembles. Her breath quick against my cheek, and I feel her nails biting into my skin. “So do you,” she says, but the words are half-grumbled, as if she’sannoyedabout it. I can’t help the little laugh that bubbles up. “Get used to it.”
I begin to move slowly and deliberately, trying to find the angle that worked like a charm for her last night. The one that had her moaning against her forearm like she couldn’t control it. I find it in seconds, and her body goes lax beneath me. Her head falls back onto the pillow, and the soundsshe makes are so damn intoxicating, I swear I could come from those alone.
“Oh my god,” she whimpers as her arm hooks around my neck. “That’sunfair.”
“So are you,” I laugh, nipping at her jaw. My hand presses into the outside of her thigh, encouraging it to curve around my hip, wanting it free for moreunfairthings.“Hook your leg. That’s it, princess.”
The soft moan that pours from her lips as my fingers drift down between her folds is like music to my ears. Each thrust is measured, controlled, and designed to hit that spot over and over and over again. My fingers rub against her clitoris, which makes her walls clench down harder around me. I’m not going to fucking last like this. “Anthony,” she gasps. Her nails dig into my shoulder blade so hard I almost hiss. “Don’t stop.”
“Never.” Right now, I mean it. I don’t want to stop, not now, not ever. She just feels too good, is too beautiful, and that fuckingmouthof hers…umm, it never knows when to stop.
I give her just a hint more pressure, just as much as I gave her last night, and she whimpers so perfectly that my goddamn hips shudder.
I lower my lips to her ear, dropping my voice enough that she won’t hear just how strained it feels. “Come for me, princess,” I whisper, tightening my hold on her hair as I press a kiss to her cheek. “God, I want to feel it.” Her body tenses, her breathing stops, her walls so tight it feels like she’s simultaneously trying to milk me for all I have and trying to evict me. It feels like heaven. It feels likesin.
And then she comes undone. She’s trembling, crying out into my neck, and the sound is too much for me to handle. She’s lost in me, undone by me, breaking because ofme, and it’s enough to push me right over the edge. I follow right after with a strangled groan, burying myself to the hilt as I hit my own release, pouring every last drop into her.
For a moment, we just lie there, tangled together, breathing heavily, lost in the stillness and the comedown. I know I should pull away and create distance like I did last night. I should remember that this is just a mission of biology, but I’m too lost in it to care. Instead, I press soft kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and lips. I’m lingering, enjoying the way her body feels beneath me, the warmth of her skin against mine.
This is dangerous. This is exactly what I wasn’t supposed to give myself. And yet, as I look down at her sleepy, satisfied expression, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
She’s still catching her breath when I finally force myself to peel away from her and sit up. I reach blindly for my shirt before shoving my arms into the sleeves. It takes everything I have to avoid the temptation to stay, but staying would be too much. Staying would undermine every boundary I’ve set. Staying would mean acknowledging the way her presence seems to soften things in me I’ve spent years hardening.
She lies back against the pillows, loose-limbed, her eyes still dilated. She watches me. I should say something nice, something that matches what we just did, something that doesn’t feelcold. But what comes out of my mouth is, “I have to head back early. A meeting came up.”
Her brows knit. “On a Saturday? Do you need me?”Not in that way, my brain screams. “Board meeting,” I say, the lie sliding out with ease. “I don’t need your help with it, but I appreciate the moxie.”
She nods, her lips pursing, clearly trying to hide disappointment and utterly failing. “Right. Okay. Should I pack up?”
I shake my head and start buttoning my shirt. “No. You can fly back tomorrow,” I insisted. Nodding toward the door, I say, “Breakfast should be ready soon. Enjoy the island, relax, and use the amenities. It’s all part of the arrangement.”
Something flickers in her expression. It may be hurt or confusion. It seems to be something dangerously close to vulnerability. I shouldn’t see it. I shouldn’t care that it’s there in the first place.
I push myself up and pull on my boxers and slacks, push my hair back from my face, and clear my tight throat. “I’ll see you at the office on Monday, April.”
