I follow her down, bracing myself over her, and take her in a carnal kiss.
She reacts like kerosene poured on a fire, both of her hands diving into my hair and dragging me closer.
I find her side zipper and slide it down, then peel the dress off her body.
“Oh, now, I like this,” I say when I expose her breasts and palm them, my hands covering them in their entirety.
I kiss my way down her body, removing the rest of her clothing as I go. Then I rise up, slide my hands down the length of first, one leg, then the other, removing her sneakers and tossing them behind me before placing a kiss on the inside of each of her knees.
She fumbles for the clasp on my waistband. I take over until we’re both wearing nothing but our skin.
When I lower my head to kiss her clit, she drags me upward by my hair.
“I’ve had two days of foreplay. If you don’t get inside me now, I’m going to die.”
I don’t argue. She wants the same thing I do.
My brain offers an automatic fleeting reminder to use a condom.
We don’t need one.The thought sends a bolt of pure lust spearing through me.
Wait.“Is this okay? Should we research if there’s any particular approach we should take or start vitamins and see an ob-gyn first or—”
She clutches my hair and growls, “Henry McRae, give me that dick.”
I’m supposed to laugh. I know without a doubt she said it that way to be funny. Except she meant it too, and I don’t want to laugh. I want to fuck.
Gathering both her wrists in one of my hands, I pin them above her head and push inside her silken heat. She’s wet and ready.
Franki’s gasp reaches my ears even as my own leaves my mouth. Skin to skin with her is heaven.
I was once cautious with her to the point of pissing her off. Her RA matters, and I never want to hurt her. But after all this time, I know her body and what she likes.
She warns me when I need to be gentle. Which means tonight, I don’t.
I thrust again, and she meets me, lifting her hips, her eyes locked on mine.
I kiss her neck, absorbed in her scent and feel. Lost in bliss in a way that never happens in any other part of my life. Only with her. It’s only ever been her. “You are my first. My last. My always.”
She nods. “Always yours.”
I release her hands and roll us over until she’s on top. She rises up and rides me as her hair tickles the tips of her breasts, the look in her eyes heated and tender.
“Take what you want.” Giving up control is another thing I could only ever do with her.
In response, she swivels her hips and smiles.
I roam her body with my hands. Revel in the sight of her. Find her clit and give her what she needs.
Managing to hold it together for her tests my endurance. After she squeezes and shudders around me, I roll her onto her front, tug her hips up, and drive into her until the tight coil of my arousal releases in a tsunami that sheets my vision white and steals space and time.
She falls forward in another orgasm of her own, and I follow her down, my lips against the sweat-dampened skin of her temple. “Love you. I love you, Franki.”
Her response is more of a contended hum than understandable speech.
We lie together, breathing hard.
My recovery comes faster than hers. When I shift her to the top of the bed, roll her over, and tuck her against my side, I don’t even try to suppress my arrogant triumph at the sight of her, wrung out and satisfied, her muscles loose as spaghetti.
