He punctuated her surrender with a loud smack on said ass, which startled another giggle out of her. But her laughter faded into a moan when he hooked his arm around her waist, hauled her onto her knees, and proceeded to kiss her punished cheek.
His mouth roamed lower. “Hunter…” She tried to draw her arms under her and push herself up, but he took hold of the backs of her thighs and applied enough forward pressure to make it difficult.
“Just like this. Don’t move.”
Good lord, he expected her to stay put, with her butt in the air, and the rest of her angled down? Clearly yes, because now the real torture began. He settled low on the bed, braced himself on his forearms, and used his tongue on her again, sliding in out and around the same territory he’d thoroughly exploited in the living room. But whereas he’d given her a measure of control last time, this time their position left her very much at his mercy.
The abrasion of his whiskers awakened a whole new set of nerve endings from this direction, as did the open-mouthed kisses he pressed to all her freshly shaved flesh. Nothing escaped his reach. His tongue teased her clit, her folds, ultimately easing into her channel to stretch her anew from behind. She grabbed fistfuls of comforter and held on.
The room filled with the thick, wet sound of his mouth working its magic. If he kept this up, it seemed likely she’d wasted twenty-five bucks on lube they wouldn’t need—not that she was complaining. No, she was breathing heavy, and moaning a little, but complaints? Not a one.
Eventually, though, the slide of his mouth, the thrust of his tongue, and her spread-eagled pose only intensified the empty ache insider her. “I’m ready. Hunter? Please, I’m ready. Really, really ready.”
Despite her urgency, he took his time disengaging. She did her best to be patient while he reversed course—until she realized where he intended to trail his tongue next. She pushed up onto her arms and wriggled out of his grasp.
“Hey,” he grumbled, “I own your pretty little ass, remember?”
“I’m taking it back.”
“I thought you said you were ready?”
She glanced over her shoulder and caught his challenging grin.
“Not for that.”
He shifted around until he was propped against the pillows, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands behind his head, his crunching abs providing a rugged backdrop for his imposing erection. This long, rangy, absolutely unrepentant tribute to masculinity stared at her with dazzling blue eyes. “What are you ready for, baby?”
His low drawl served as a whole new seduction. Her insides quivered. She crawled up his body, her arms bracketing his crossed ankles, his sculpted, hair-dusted shins and strong, muscular thighs. She stopped when she straddled his lap. He ran his hands up her thighs and under the hem of her shirt to rest at her hips. “According to my doctor, I’m ready for something called controlled penetration. It’s when—oh…”
He settled her on his lap, nestled his thick ridge against her soft parts, and drew his knees up behind her. She leaned back against his thighs, which brought her pelvis forward and pushed their lower bodies into deeper, hotter contact. He tugged the neckline of her T-shirt down to expose her breast and cupped it in his callused palm. His eyelids drifted down. He pulled in a slow breath through his nose. “I know what it is. I’ve been reading up.”
And now the place between her legs wasn’t the only part of her melting. The knowledge he cared enough to research how to make this good for her left a warm, soft spot dangerously close to her heart.
She tightened and relaxed her muscles, simultaneously rocking herself against him and hugging that hard curve lodged between the folds of her sex. His jaw clenched, and his hands grew slightly rougher with her breasts, but he let her keep at it for a bit. Finally, he caught her hips and held her still. “You want to ride it, cowgirl?”
“Yee-haw,” she whispered.
He scooted her back until he had access to his equipment. “Get ready to mount up.”
She scrambled for the box of condoms, tore it open, and pulled out one foil wrapped square.
“Hold up there, quick-draw. Don’t forget to take care of your animal.”
She paused in the act of tearing the foil. “I thought I was.”
He plucked the condom from her fingers, dropped it on the nightstand, and picked up the Liquid Silk. “Hold out your hand.”
When she did, he pumped a dime-sized pearl into her palm. The container went back on the nightstand and then he gripped the base of his erection, manhandled it until it pointed straight up, and guided her hand down until she could curl her palm around the smooth, wide head. She massaged her lube-slicked hand over him. The back of his skull thunked against the headboard.
For half a minute he let her lube him up. Then he raised his head and sent her the kind of slow, sexy smile that made her insides quiver. He pumped a generous amount of lube into his hand, coating his palm and fingers. When their eyes reconnected, he said, “You take care of your stallion, your stallion will take care of you.”
Then he slid his hand between her legs, and slipped a finger insider her. He had her so ready—beyond ready—the minor invasion only tapped into a deeper well of need. She leaned forward, which pressed her clit solidly into his hand, clamped her hands around his head, and pulled his mouth to hers. Their tongues tangled, and their breath mingled. All the while he cautiously worked his finger deeper.
The caution was driving her out of her mind. “You,” she sighed into his mouth. “I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me.”
“Another finger. Jesus, baby, we’re just getting started. We’re going to take this slow. Slow and easy.”
Right now she wanted fast and reckless. She wanted heat and friction, pain and pleasure, and every mind-blowing sensation in between. When he nudged the second finger into her, she bore down. Hard. Then inhaled sharply as her body reluctantly stretched to accommodate.