He sighed in pleasure. His fingers found her hot and wet as he moved them up her channel. She immediately squeezed, rocking and pumping herself over them.
“More, Ciar. Please,” she begged.
He pulled from her and watched her eyes dilate as he sucked his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean.
“Turn around and place your hands on the glass. Legs wide.” The sun was setting, but there was still an orange glow highlighting Gray’s shape as she turned and got into position.
Ciar gave her ass one sharp slap. She yelped but lengthened her arms enough to push her ass further in the air. “You have no idea how crazy your body makes me.”
He stepped close enough until she could feel his length against her spine. Gray moaned and shimmied her back, rubbing against him like a cat begging to be petted.
Taking himself in hand, he leaned back enough to position his sex between her legs, rubbing its head up and down her slick seam.
“Can’t wait,” he breathed against her neck.
“Thank God,” was her husky reply.
Finally, he allowed himself to line up at the very center of her heat and push. “Fuck me,” he groaned, “nothing better than this, baby.”
He slid shallowly in and out until her body was primed and ready to take all of him. He pumped slowly, wanting to make it last, but eventually Gray pushed back, meeting his thrusts with thrusts of her own.
He could feel her body start to quiver and reached one hand to her front, pressing his palm firmly to her mound and rubbing back and forth until her orgasm broke and her walls started pulsing tightly around him.
He couldn’t withstand the onslaught and, with a roar, came furiously, joining her in euphoria.
“I love you,” he panted above her.
fifty-four
GRAY
Gray and Ciardecided to walk the few blocks to Gray Eyes that evening. They were meeting their friends for dinner to celebrate Imogen’s final adoption.
They were running late. Initially, because Tina and Imogen had gotten home and their daughter insisted on lots of love and attention. Not that she and Ciar wanted or even tried to resist.
By the time Imogen had finished her dinner and got ready for bed, they’d barely managed showers for themselves before heading out, which led to the second reason they were running late.
Heat suffused her cheeks when she remembered Ciar getting into the shower with her. He’d already been fully hard.
“I need you again,” he’d groaned while stroking his length.
Those four words were all she’d needed to hear to capitulate and open her body. Her need for him was as fierce and driving as his own. She couldn’t even blame it on hormones. She’d always wanted Ciar desperately.
He’d sat on the large teak bench and pulled her slippery body onto his lap until she straddled him, her belly pressing against his erection.
Ciar had touched her then, every slow stroke of his hands up and down her back, her stomach and breasts, ass and thighs, left her moaning and compliant. Her husband was as meticulously thorough at sex as he was in every aspect of his life.
His tattooed hands contrasted with her smooth, white skin, and had Gray leaning into his body, arching her back for more. When he gripped her hips and lifted her above his sex, she might have shouted at how good it felt when he let her body slide down him. She’d been helpless to do anything but take what he offered.
After climaxes ripped through their bodies, Gray had bent her head and whispered in Russian, “You are my heart. Forever.”
Ciar tightened his arm around her shoulders as Gray Eyes came into view, clearly also thinking about their shower. “I can’t believe you never told me you spoke Russian.”
Gray snorted in amusement. In his shock, he’d stood in the shower, keeping them connected as he stared in disbelief.
“And let you know how obsessed I was with you. No thanks. Plus,” she admitted, rolling her eyes, “I’m nowhere near as good as you and your Aunt Alya, of course.”
“The hell you aren’t,” he disagreed. “That old Russian woman has you speaking like a native.”
