The ER's Newest Dad

He bent, dipped his tongue between her pretty pink lips, and suckled the swollen flesh.

“Ross,” she murmured, her fingers back in his hair, working across his scalp as her hips writhed against the thrust of his tongue.

He laved her most sensitive part until her breath came in short pants and she said his name over and over as if chanting a magic spell all her own.

Perhaps she had because certainly he felt enchanted, under her spell, as if some magical force was at work making him completely and totally hers.

She arched off the bed, curled her fingers tightly into his hair then cried out softly with her orgasm.

Hearing her pleasure, seeing her reaction to his touch, feeling her, tasting her overwhelmed Ross’s senses and he lost control.

Lost control of his mind and his body.

He finished the job she’d started, shucking his shorts off in record time and moving over her, positioning his body, then without hesitation slid home to where he’d always belonged.

With Brielle.

* * *

Brielle closed her eyes at the sheer pleasure moving through her body.

Every touch of Ross’s hand against her lit fires that had burned low for too many years. Every brush of his mouth against her body started infernos only he could quench.

Now, feeling him stretching her, filling her up with him, she wanted to cry from the joy of it. Then again, crying was what had started this.

No, she wouldn’t think about the emotions that had assuaged her when she’d gone to her room and given in to the tears. For the moment she was just going to be greedy, to take what his body was giving, to feel all the things she’d had denied her for five years.

Five long, lonely years since she’d made love to this man. To any man. Five long, forlorn years when she’d loved him, missed him, wanted him to miraculously reappear in her life, sweep her off her feet and tell her he felt exactly the same way about her.

Never had she actually believed he would.

Not really.

Or had she?

Sure, there had been a part of her that had dreamed, hoped, but she’d kept that part buried so she could survive day by day with a big chunk of her heart missing.

She’d focused on Justice, Vann, her job. She’d been happy, even if she’d always known something was missing. Someone. Ross.

But here he was. Buried deep inside her, his gorgeous body moving against hers, thrusting deeper and deeper until rational thought was becoming more and more difficult, until all she wanted was to lose herself in him.

His lips marauded hers, as if her mouth provided him with the necessities of life itself and he was a dying man in need of sustenance.

His hands caressed her, then supported his body above hers where he angled himself, driving even deeper into her, but where he could watch her beneath him.

From her vantage point she admired the chiseled lushness of his chest, of his cut abdomen. She wanted to reach out and touch him as she had earlier, but her insides began to melt and she could only curl her fingers into tight fists. First she melted only at the very core of her, but then she liquefied in a spiraling outward motion that built in momentum until every nerve cell was rocked with the force of a tornado turning her insides out in a pleasurable explosion.

She gripped her bed covers. Her fingers clenched and unclenched. Wave after wave of glorious spasms shook her body. She arched into Ross, then bit her tongue to keep from crying out with the enormity of the orgasm that hit her.

Total. Orgasmic. Meltdown.

But he wasn’t through. Oh, no. Just as she crashed over the pinnacle of her pleasurable ride, he jetted her right back up by taking her nipple in his mouth and giving her a hard suckle, all the while imprinting her body over and over with him.

She lost count of how many times he brought her up, let her fall just a little so she could appreciate the next ascent to an even higher crest. Over and over until she was positive her brain would never function again. That all of her body had completely short-circuited from the lightning running through her and she would remain a sizzled, spent gob of ooey-gooey goop.

When she felt the change in his pace, the tightening of his abdominal muscles, the tension pouring from every pore of his body, she arched into his thrust, meeting his rhythm, welcoming the rush of pleasure filling her body as, that time, it was her name crossing his lips in a possessive growl.

His body glistening with sweat, he virtually collapsed onto her, kissing her cheek. “Perfect.”