“Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” If she didn’t move her hand or do something with it, he was going to grab and grind it against him, and give away that he was losing control, letting his emotions and needs drive him.
She shook her head, wetting her bottom lip. Then she took a deep breath. “I have a sudden desperate desire to lay you on thebed and climb on you, and do, well, you know, to ...” Her voice dropped to a whisper.“Rideyou.”
His reaction was instanteous.
“Yee-haw, cowgirl.” Damien’s hand shot out, grabbing hers, and pressed them both against his erection, rocking a little to ease his suffering. “Hell fucking yeah. Do it.”
“But then I started thinking that I’ve never really been the sort who got into that, and it always makes me feel rather like I’m a tightrope walker being gawked at and liable to fall off at any given moment. And really, where do these intrusive thoughts come from? It’s shocking.”
What was shocking was that she could stand there forming complete sentences. He was sure he couldn’t even recite the alphabet anymore.
“Just do it,” he repeated, practically growling.
Their hands were stroking in tandem over him now, and he wasn’t sure who was creating the movement, but he wasn’t going to worry about details.
Mandy nodded. “I had just come to that same conclusion. This holiday is about sensation and freedom and going with instinct. What feels good. And you feel so good, I have to feel you under me.”
Damien exercised the extreme willpower he had learned in the last three years and yanked himself away from her. With one swift motion, he dropped his pants and boxer briefs and stepped toward the bed, groping for the condoms he’d left on the nightstand.
Mandy didn’t wait for him to lie down. She attacked him, hands everywhere, lips racing frantically, legs tripping up with his until he fell flat on his back. Good to see he wasn’t the only one who had utterly lost control of the situation.
He wasn’t thinking, wasn’t even sure he was conscious, afraid that this wasn’t real, yet at the same time steeped in the certaintythat this was happening, it existed, and it was fabulous and powerful and the most amazing experience of his life.
Grabbing her waist so she didn’t tumble down onto him, Damien gazed up at her, trying to decide lips or breasts first to take with his mouth, when Mandy sat up, legs on either side of his.
And spread herself with her fingers, aligned herself with his cock, and dropped down onto it.
The girl didn’t mess around.
He’d always known she was efficient.
It was the hormones. It had to be. Mandy shuddered over Damien, afraid to move, shocked at her aggressive neediness, stunned at how swollen she felt, how her body clasped around his hardness and tingled.
Never had she experienced anything like this, a total surrender to anything but how her body felt, a desperate urgent need to take.
Damien thrust up into her, stretching her, and she gripped the bed sheets, swallowing hard. Looking down at him, his pale illusive blue eyes locked on her with agonized pleasure and aching vulnerability, she groaned.
It wasn’t pregnancy hormones—it was Damien. It was the way he looked at her, the way he wanted her, the way heneededher, that had her spreading her knees apart so she could take him in farther.
Normally she didn’t like to be on top—the ballet lessons Mother had forced upon her were useless for the coordination required to move up and down on a man and look sexy at the same time. She figured she usually looked more as if she was born without any sort of rhythm whatsoever.
But Damien was just going to have to get past it.
Mandy wiggled a little to brace herself better, leaned over and kissed Damien, and took a deep breath.
He looked amused, his hands tightening on her bottom. “Show me your stuff, cowgirl.”
With pleasure. “Just remember, you asked for it.” She lifted, until only the tip of him remained inside her.
His eyes had narrowed, and he wet his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m asking all right. I can even beg if you want.”
When she sank down on him, they both groaned. “No begging required,” she panted.
“Good, because I’ve lost the ability to speak.” He squeezed his eyes shut while his fingers convulsed on her hips.
She knew the feeling. All her energy was focused on not whimpering as she moved up and down, up and down, finding a slow, delicious rhythm that sent shots of pleasure clear through to her toes.
“Oh, yeah, baby,” he said, eyes popping open to watch her with flared nostrils. “That’s it, you’ve got it.”
