“I don’t care.” She gripped the steel sides, leaned over, and parted her legs as far as the jeans would allow.
The sight of her lifting that perfect little ass to receive him made any lingering hopes of mustering up some foreplay impossible. He curled one hand around the base of his cock, the other around her hip, and drove in.
The first thrust jostled a loud “Yes!” out of her, rocked her onto her tiptoes, and sent her hands scrambling across the top of the table for a more secure hold. She steadied herself and arched her back in time to meet his second thrust. Flesh slapped against flesh.
She cried out again, but he wasn’t so far gone or so out of practice he failed to realize he’d given her nothing yet except a rough pounding. He needed to do better than what had become his MO—a quick, mind-numbing release, followed by an immediate exit.
Make it good for her, so she’ll let you have her again.
Again?
Hell yes, again. Your mind’s not numb this time, and you know damn well there’s no immediate exit.
Instead of suffocating him, the realization grounded him. Focused him. There was an eventual exit, they both knew it, and the shared awareness made this recklessness okay. Repeatable, even, provided he did something worth repeating. A thousand ideas raged through his mind—touch her breasts and figure out if she liked a gentle stroke or a firm caress. Slide his hand between her legs and determine if she preferred the graze of his finger on her clit or a hard grind against his palm.
Unfortunately, they would have to wait, because the hot, tight hug of her body felt too good to do anything except thrust again.
Tension gathered in his gut, his balls. The backs of his thighs burned. Neurons fired at will, taking direction from some primitive part of his brain his conscious mind couldn’t touch, leaving him a passenger in his own body. His thrusts turned fast and reckless, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to slow the train down. Fuck. He was done for.
“Next time, Savannah. Next time, I swear to God, I’m going to rain orgasms on you until you drown in your own pleasure, but right now I have to—”
She threw back her head and screamed while inner muscles dissolved into a frenzy of contractions around him. They squeezed the orgasm right out of him in a rush so sudden and violent he would have collapsed if the table hadn’t been there to support him.
Holy shit.
It took a minute for him to catch his breath and reestablish motor control. Then he braced his weight on his forearms, turned his head, and kissed the corner of her smiling mouth. The off-center smile got him every time.
“Sorry I interrupted your work.”
Her husky laugh tickled his skin. “Oh yeah. Me, too.” With that, she tucked her hands under her shoulders and started to push herself upright, but he didn’t budge.
“Don’t move, Smith. I’m not done with you yet.”
…
Not done with her yet? He’d just made her come so hard she might have broken something. She raised her head to ask what else he could possibly do to her, but he chose that moment to slowly drag his extremely effective cock from her pleasure-swollen body. She bit her lip and groaned as he withdrew, unable to stop herself from wringing a last few greedy spasms of satisfaction from the process.
When he finally slipped free, she sighed and started to straighten, but a big hand splayed across the center of her back and held her still. “Uh-uh. I told you not to move.”
He wanted her to just…lean over a table, half naked? She wasn’t especially shy, but the idea of lying there bare and trembling from aftershocks made her blush. She felt displayed. Exposed.
And yet the uncomfortable experience of holding herself still for his perusal made her so hot she could hardly keep still.
Where was he looking?
What could he see?
Just when the tension of the moment became unbearable, warm, firm lips trailed over the vulnerable curve of her ass cheek. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but a hand at the small of her back kept her still while he scraped his teeth along sensitive territory.
“I’ve been fantasizing about kissing this ass since I saw it naked, in my bed, Friday morning.”
At the same time he delivered the revelation, his fingers delved between her thighs and searched out the still-quivering spot that reduced her to a slave with one featherlight touch.
Those nimble fingertips stroked again, and she pursued the fleeting caress in a blind effort to prolong the addictive agony. He rewarded her effort by sinking his teeth into her flesh, and her bones dissolved. She gripped the sides of the table to keep from sliding to the floor.
Sweet Jesus, Savannah. The man just bit your ass. She loved a helping hand every once in a while. What woman didn’t? But who knew she’d be so susceptible to a good, sound biting? Now she had two competing punishments to withstand: the unbearable assault of his fingers teasing her clit, and the irresistible sting of his teeth against her unguarded flesh. Should she beg for mercy, or plead for more?
He gave her more, biting and stroking while she chased an increasingly crucial release, and yet for some reason she never saw the orgasm coming until those gentle fingers and not-so-gentle teeth shot her up and over a ragged crest.