“Then show methatDorian,” I whisper, dragging my fingers along his length. “Later, you can show me all your cleverness, all your skills. But right now, just let go.”
I reach for his shoulders, pulling him down to me. I feel him break against me, the proud arch of the wave collapsing against the curve of the beach. He kisses me fervently, wildly, with a raw intensity that sets me aglow all over. He tastes like mint and tobacco and wicked heat. I surge against him, eager for every bit of his body to be touching mine.
There’s a sweet violence in the way he handles me. He mauls my breasts until they peak sharply for him, drags his mouth down my stomach, and pushes apart my thighs. With a low groan, he buries his face in me, and I yelp, thin and sharp, because I’ve only had oral from a guy once, and it wasn’t great, but this—this—Dorian—my fucking god—
He strokes me with his tongue, savors me, laps delicately at my clit until I’m crying his name, a helpless, breathless chant.
“That sound.” His lips and tongue trail a reckless path from the hollow of my thigh to my knee. “The sweetest music.”
He runs one hand under my rear, cupping the cheek, squeezing lightly, palming the smooth flesh.
“Come here,” I plead, and he prowls over me again, pressing his mouth to mine. I run my hands from his broad shoulders down his sinewy arms, and then I swirl a thumbnail around one of his nipples. He jerks against me, hitching a breath, and I grin. Locking my legs over his magnificent ass, I pull him in, closer to where I want him.
“Fuck, Baz.” His voice cracks as he slides in. “Protection?”
“I’ve got it covered,” I assure him.
“Thank god.” He surges into me, a blessed rush of solid heat, and I give a little joyful sob, because he feels so satisfying, so perfect, so good.
I throw my arms around his neck, careless of the stinging pain across the backs of my hands.
For a second, we look at each other in the shadowed room—bodies joined, muscles taut, sensitive tissues aching for that silky, gliding friction, fordeeper, formore.
I’ve never looked at anyone like this during sex. Eye contact never felt anything but awkward. But Dorian’s eyes are finally open to me, wide open, not a shadow of lies or larceny. They are hollow wells, graves of blue darkness holding everything he has given and gained. And glowing in the center of all that emptiness, like a tongue of blue fire, is a wish.
There’s nothing left in me worth loving, he told me. A short sentence, sandwiched between jagged phrases.
His hips shift slightly, deepening his penetration of my body. Like a dagger of pure, white-hot bliss, driven farther into my heart.
“Kiss me like you hate me,” I whisper. “And then fuck me like you love me.”
His lips twist in a faint, derisive snarl, and he kisses me brutally, open-mouthed, driving his tongue down my throat. My tongue wrestles with his, and it’s sloppy, wretched, a desperate tangle. When he breaks away, I feel bruised and glorious.
And then he reaches down, between his body and mine, finding that spot with his thumb. He toys with the slippery bit of flesh while he begins to rock into me, a deliberate, slow roll of his hips, over and over, gradually picking up speed.
My whole self, my soul, flesh, and bones are writhing, arching, straining on the crest of release. Dorian draws himself nearly out and then glides in—out and in, so I feel the whole hot length of him every single time. Out…slowly…then in. Again. Again. That bright electric glow at my core is juddering, on the verge of an explosion.
And then Dorian abandons his slow torture, slams his palmsonto the mattress on either side, and pistons into me with manic force—
And the electric charge forks into wild lightning, skewering my spine, singeing my every nerve with violent ecstasy. I’m blown apart, crackling in a hundred spasming pieces.
I’ve never come this hard in my life. The ferocity, the strength, the intensity with which he’s fucking me made the orgasm ten times better because he’s so intensely devoted to this, to bringing me the keenest bliss. This is what I’ve been looking for, I think—this single-minded intensity, this abandonment of himself in his absolute dedication to my pleasure. The godlike brilliance ofhim.
Dorian keeps pounding me, braced one-handed on the bed, and he grips my jaw with the other hand. “Eyes open for me, love.”
I force myself to look into his eyes while I float in shattered, blissful suspension, and with a final hard thrust, he pulses inside me, his pupils dilating as he comes. His whole body shudders with the force of it; I can feel him jetting deep into me as I spasm around him. For a moment, we’re in exquisite sync, our rhythm perfectly matched.
“God,” he says brokenly. “God, Baz. You’re everything.”
He tips his forehead against mine, breathing hard, and I clasp both arms around his neck again.
Slowly, he eases out of me, leaving a wet trace on my thigh. He moves onto the bed at my side, and I turn toward him, loving the sensation of my skin against his. Dorian strokes up my arm, then runs his fingers into my hair.
“I was going to try to blow your mind,” he murmurs.
“Believe me, you did.”
“But it was just missionary, with a few minutes of oral and a little foreplay.”
