‘How could I have missed that?’
‘Shush, just get them off,’ I hear myself snarl, my hands tugging at his zipper, pushing his own away as he pushes my bra straps down my arms.
His trousers are a joint effort; he pulls at the fastening as I tug them down his thighs. His fingers dip into me, teasing and spreading my wetness, then he’s inside me, filling my need, my heat. I rise in response to his coaxing hands on my hips, his mouth alternating between wet kisses on my lips and breasts. We don’t speak—we don’t need to—our bodies saying all that’s to be said. I ride him instinctively, the force of him intense as I impale myself on him over and over again.
It’s so deep. So much. So sublime.
Suddenly, his hands fall away and lie at his sides. I settle my mine on his shoulders, our eyes never parting as I rise and fall, undulating against him, this time at my pace.
‘Fuck me,’ he whispers the choked plea. ‘Fuck me like I’m yours.’
His eyes reflect my movement and shine bright. I’m in charge—I hold the power inside of me, quite literally. His jaw tenses, his brows drawing together.
Knowing he’s close only heightens my pleasure.
‘You need to move,’ he rasps.
I frown back at him without altering my rhythm. I don’t want to move. I’m not finished yet, plus I want to watch his face as he gives up. Gives in. So I close my eyes and let my head fall back.
‘We haven’t used anything, I don’thaveanything,’ he appeals.
I straighten but continue my motion. I know what he means and bite my lips against a smile as a wicked thought takes over. Clamping my fingers over his shoulders, I shake my head and horror hits his eyes. Gripping my hips like a vice, he pulls.
‘Move,’ he pleads, ‘we can’t.’
The devil on my shoulder wonders how far I can push him, wonder if I can get him to give in. So I lean my torso back and grab his thighs.
‘It’s fine, let go,’ I rasp.
‘Fuck,’ he garbles, his fingers brushing my clit and I buck against his hand. Suddenly, he rolls, not leaving my body, ending up above me, trousers ridiculously clinging to his legs.
‘You win,’ he growls, pushing my back against the floor and his body harder between my legs. ‘You. Fucking. Win.’ He punctuates his words with thrusts, planting himself deep inside. Lost to all intellectual function, he grinds against me over and over again, utterly beautiful as climax takes him that moment. Dark and resplendent, he pulses into me, lowering his head against my own.
‘S’all right,’ I murmur, savouring his aftershocks of pleasure, wrapping my legs around his thighs.
As he lifts his head, my stomach squirms a little in shame.
‘What did you say?’
‘I’m on the... you know,thecontraceptivepill.’
His eyes blink slowly before he exhales. ‘Thank fuck. Though I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or put you over my knee.’
‘I veto the last option. And you promised, remember?’
‘So I did,’ he says full of wry amusement. His expression falters, smile reducing as he speaks. ‘Well, that was a whole new experience.’
‘Sex on the floor?’ I ask sceptically.
‘Sex without a condom. Penetrative sex without a condom,’ he qualifies.
Ohhh. ‘Never?’ I cough out, wincing, needing neither the imagery nor semantics. I want to ask why. Has he never gotten close to someone, never trusted enough?
‘Should I feel honoured? ‘Cos I only feel guilt?’Wow, I think I just said that out loud.
‘For taking advantage, I shouldn’t wonder. I didn’t think I’dbe ableto move,’ he says running a hand down his face. Withdrawing, he lies next to me, propping his head on one bent arm.
‘Laugh, cry and rage all you like, you can’t punish me.’ I readjust my bra, pulling a couple of throw pillows from the sofa above, shoving them under my head.
