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Drawn Deep (Afternoon Delight 2)

Page 23

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“If you insist.” His lips moved over hers, tender and soft. Rousing her so effectively that she had to see him. Without shifting back, he smiled as they stared into each other’s eyes. “Much better. Hi.”

“Hi.” She lowered her lashes, suddenly shy. In the dim morning light, it was easy to hide—at least from his gaze. Not so easy to avoid the erection now sliding between her already dampening thighs, as if it belonged there. Inside her.

Key into lock. Hand in glove. Heart in trash disposal, if she didn’t watch her step.

Nothing about him fit her usual patterns. She rarely fell for guys. That was simple fact. Her husband had been the exception and she still had the skid marks on her internal organs to prove it. Since then her outer shell had hardened to a crisp, proving nearly impermeable to the average male.

Michael was not average. In any fucking way.

He cupped her cheek. “What’re you thinking?”

The question almost made her giggle again. No sane man asked that the morning after having sex for the first time with a new woman. Borrowing trouble much? Luckily she wasn’t the average woman any more than he was the typical guy.

“I’m thinking about pancakes,” she said soberly. “Huge stacks of them dripping with maple syrup and butter.”

“Liar. That’s not what you’re thinking about. I’m not either. I’m thinking about this.” He moved on top of her, catching her wrist and pressing it into the pillow next to her head. The show of dominance surprised her a little, as did the assertive way he simply slid inside her, no foreplay required. He pulled the car right into the bay and made himself at home.

Well okay then.

“Hey there, cowboy, slow your roll.” She pinched his ass with her free hand. The other wiggled in his grip. “Don’t you think we should talk about last night?” God, was she really saying those heinous words while she had a huge, thick cock buried inside her? Had she completely forgotten her dry spell? A gift penis should never be wasted.

His hips rocked into her, startling a moan from her throat. “Shh. Let me make love to you.”

Her eyes flew open. “Uh, yeah, let’s talk.”

“Later.” He slanted his mouth over hers, hot and hungry, his tongue licking between her lips. His cock flexed inside her, stretching her until she shifted to ease the burn. He took that as an invitation and plowed in farther, widening her legs, driving into her so hard that she couldn’t stop her moan. “That’s it. You want it, baby?”

She did want it, as evidenced by the slick wetness meeting his thrusts. He was a quick learner and other than last night, it had been too fucking long since she’d taken a good pounding. Her body was one hundred percent ready to play. That didn’t mean she was going to point her toes to the ceiling and pretend alarm bells weren’t

clanging in her head.

Or at least she thought she wasn’t, until he started going deeper, harder, driving her hips up the bed. The shrieking in her brain grew dimmer with every stroke. Pretty soon a choir would sing and she’d start swearing fealty to deities she usually only mentioned while in the throes.

Damn, she hadn’t been in throes like this since…never.

He caged his arms around her head, pressing his sweat-drenched chest to hers, making her moan at the contact against her sensitive breasts. He mumbled something against her mouth and then he was kissing her with the same hunger he put into his fucking, with absolutely zero reservations and one hundred percent focus on her face. She should’ve been disconcerted that he never closed his eyes or looked away. She wasn’t.

Something about the way he studied her with such reverence made her body smolder that much hotter. He wasn’t just screwing some random chick. He was savoring her in long, mind-blurring pumps of his hips that caused her to rake her nails down his shoulders. The groans he uttered against her lips encouraged her to do it again while he bottomed out inside her and shouted out his release.

And then, because he was an angel of mercy, he reached down and rubbed his thumb swiftly over her clit. Granted, she kind of took him there by the hand but he didn’t resist. At all. He got into it too, swiveling his softening cock until she could swear he was getting hard again. Before she could ponder such a miracle, she approached the peak and shot right over it, her cries of completion caught in his kiss.

“Oh God. That’s the best feeling ever.” He lowered his forehead to hers and wheezed. “Fuck.”

What feeling? She soon thought better of asking the question. He’d probably say something mushy to destroy her glow.

Minutes passed. Eventually her lungs refilled. But the peace that had descended for that blissful instant after her orgasm vanished all too fast. The warm weight on top of her shifted from comforting and pleasant to oppressive.

And shit, he hadn’t worn a condom. She hadn’t even thought to ask, despite the fact that “no glove, no love” was practically her standard theme song.

“Why didn’t you wear a condom?” she asked shakily. Explain it to me. Make me understand why we’re so fucking dumb together.

He lifted his head. “What?”

“A condom? Hello? You didn’t wear one.”

His face transformed from tranquil to concerned in a heartbeat. He rolled off of her and sat on the side of the bed. “You said your tubes were tied. You can’t get pregnant. Can you?”

“No. Not worried about that.” Saying it out loud helped get her own fears back in line. Jeez, they might as well call themselves the disaster twins. “But diseases—”



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