Ocean (Damage Control 5)

“I don’t…” He buries his face in my neck and bites lightly. “Oh God.”

“Your time is up,” he informs me, pulling on the neckline of the T-shirt and leaving a hot trail of kisses. “By the way, you look hot in my T-shirt.”

“I do?” My mind is full of white noise as he kisses his way up to my jaw and nibbles at my earlobe.

“Yup. And you’ll look even hotter out of it.”

I’m starting to get an idea of what he has in mind, especially when he drags me away from the door and toward the counter where he was leaning when I entered the kitchenette, his hands on my hips, his hard-on pressing between us.

“Been dreaming of this,” he breathes, sliding the T-shirt up my thighs, revealing my trimmed sex, my belly button, my boobs until he’s tugging it off me. “Of waking up with you, of touching you like this.”

I’m not the sort of girl to walk around naked, especially in the light of day. Crazy or not, let’s face it, daylight isn’t always kind to a body that isn’t supermodel thin and toned. I have curves, oh yeah, baby, hips, and ass, and boobs, and this super-hot guy has only seen me naked in the soft light of his bedroom so far.

But he did say he wants to be with me, and the way his gaze is raking up and down my not-so-perfect body is scorching.

“God, Kay…” he murmurs and puts his hands on my boobs, then trails them down to my hips. “You’re beautiful.”

And I don’t say anything, my throat closing up. He makes me feel beautiful, every time, with every look and every word.

Then I squeal when he heaves me up on the counter, a wicked grin curling his lips. He presses up between my legs, presses that impressive hard-on against my throbbing sex, and leans in to lick at the seam of my lips.

He kisses me and kisses me until I moan and open up for him. With his tongue he traces my lips, strokes along the roof of my mouth, tangles with my tongue, sending lightning bolts of pleasure into my core.

Blindly I paw at his T-shirt, wanting it off, and he draws back to oblige. Slowly he takes it off, and the tightening on his face tells me the problem is his ribs, not that he’s making a show of it.

It doesn’t matter. It is a frigging strip show, one any girl I know would have paid a month’s salary to watch. His mouthwatering abs appear first, then his strong pecs, and Jesus, when he stretches up his arms to pull the shirt off, heavy biceps flexing, I have to bite on my lip not to moan.

He drops the T-shirt and steps between my legs again. I trail my hands over his tattoos, the snake on one side, the skull on the other, the angel on his arm.

Now I know it all. I see it all. I see who he is, and I love every part of him.

Impatiently I tug on the waistline of his sweats, and he lets me, putting his hands on my waist and giving me a crooked grin.

The sweats catch on his hard cock, and I tug harder, freeing it. It swings up, slapping him on the stomach with a wet sound, and his breath catches.

Mine, too. I push his sweats down, and they fall around his feet. He kicks them away and grips his cock, giving it a few long strokes, his gaze going distant and hazy.

“Now.” I put my hand over his, and he grunts. “Inside me.”

“You’re not ready.” He looks down, between my legs, where I’m naked and exposed to him, and strokes his other hand there, parting my seam. “Oh fuck, you’re so wet.”

“I’m ready. Ready for you.”

Or I think I am. Because when he groans and bumps the head of his cock against my opening, then pushes into me, when he sinks deep, all the way, his mouth going slack with pleasure, I’m not prepared for the tug on my heartstrings, or for the impossible, indescribable heat that spreads through me when he fits so perfectly inside me. When he fills me up so completely, in every way.

And that’s before he starts moving. When he does… Oh holy crap, I can only hold on for the ride as he slams into me again and again, his mouth crashing on mine, devouring me, his tongue thrusting between my lips like his cock is thrusting inside me.

I can’t… I don’t… Shit, I’m going to come. How does he do this, making me come just by shedding his clothes and putting his cock into me?

It’s just everything about him, turning me on. By the time he touches me, I’m halfway there, and I…

God, oh my God! The pleasure ricochets through my body like a flaming bullet, and I scream. I actually frigging scream as my core pulses and my breasts tingle and my toes curl and my nails dig into his broad shoulders. I’m coming, and coming, and I think the pleasure’s never going to end.

“Goddamn,” he hisses, his hips slamming into me, his cock jerking, and heat floods my pussy, triggering another mini orgasm on the heels of the one barely ended.

“God,” I moan, rocking against him, my feet pressing into the back of his muscular thighs. “So good.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He’s still spilling inside me, his hips still jerking, one hand braced on my hip, the other on the counter. “So damn good.”