Dirty Distractions (Afternoon Delight 1)

“Watch,” she whispered, lifting up and then sinking down to take him into her body. Slow, so slow. Like she was sliding down a mountain. At the base she collided with his groin, and the contact sent her clit into hyperdrive. She gasped at the sudden spasm that gripped her. He broke his casual pose and reached out to grab her hips, anchoring them together while their bodies flexed and separated without her conscious thought.

The gravitational pull of Brad’s magnificent penis had taken over, and all she had to do was ride him for all she was worth.

She twisted her nipples harder, her other hand snaking down to strum her clit. He groaned an

d drove into her, so hard and deep that her back bowed in supplication. Even from below he was controlling things, shoving her to the brink and holding her there. She might’ve been embarrassed by the way her sex clutched at him, so slickly that wet noises accompanied his every retreat and thrust. Might’ve been had his fevered groans not offered distracting background music.

“That’s it. Deep. Deeper. Take me.” Said while he bent her backwards, her hands on his knees the only thing keeping her from flying off the bed. As roughly as he fucked her, he tenderly skimmed his hand over her stomach.

And in his eyes she saw the words they still hadn’t shared, the twin of the emotions that carved through her as cleanly as a blade. Leaving no room for doubts, for anything but him.

With one flick of her nipple, she cried out, her climax even more unexpected for its force. She’d built and built and now she crashed, shaking and limp as aftershocks rampaged through her system.

But he didn’t stop. He never stopped.

Somehow she found herself on her knees at the side of the bed, facedown on the mattress. How exactly she’d gotten there, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that Brad was still as hard as granite inside her, and she’d started to ascend that peak again, her spine arching with each plunge. She couldn’t fathom how she could come again. Knew she would die if she didn’t. She fisted the bedsheets, her shoulders hunched, her body melting into the bed from his relentless siege. He’d made her his, and now he was staking his claim.

He pulled her hair, and the pain felt like permission. To be completely in this moment, to give herself totally to him. To let go again with a moan that verged on agony. Even if they wrecked, they’d go over the cliff together. And God, the trip would be fucking fabulous.

His shout as he came made her shudder. Out of reflex her teeth scissored into the rumpled bedding as his release blasted her inner walls, renewing spasms that had yet to fully cease. He continued to surge into her while he softened. Extending her pleasure, sharing it. Wrapping it around them so nothing could ever touch them but its fragile, transcendent beauty. He fumbled for her hands on the bed and, holding them, swiveled into her until he’d sated the need he’d aroused, easing her body to a shivering plateau beneath his.

Gripping her fingers tight, he brushed his lips over her neck. Her ear. The curve of her jaw. “I’m falling for you, Sara.” Hearing him repeat what he’d said the other night when he’d been drowsy from cold meds caused her pulse to skip. “It’s not too soon when it’s right.”

“Too soon?” She let out a watery laugh. “I’ve been waiting forty-two damn years.”

He didn’t say anything, just pressed close to her back and buried his face in her hair. Waiting. Asking the question without words.

So she answered it.

“We’ll fall together,” she murmured, though she knew they already had.

For a moment, they huddled against the bed. When his weight started to get uncomfortable, she shifted out from underneath him, only to find he’d fallen dead asleep. On his knees on the floor. Like a little kid.

A laugh tickled the back of her throat as she pushed to her feet. Nope, not going down that “little” road again.

“Come on, up with you.” She tugged at his arms. He didn’t respond. The guy had made sick sleeping into a high art form.

“Come in, come in hard!”

“Oh Jesus.” The laughter she’d held back slipped free with one glance at Telly’s cage sitting on Brad’s desk. She’d brought him in for the night because she’d been afraid he was getting lonely downstairs with Kim gone. He’d been quiet the whole time other than an occasional chirp for her to give him some love. Not anymore. Sex seemed to inspire him.

“Goddamn bird,” Brad muttered, lips lifting. “Bread him for Thanksgiving.”

She laughed again and tickled his ribs to keep him from falling back asleep. “C’mon, smart ass. In bed with you.”

With much grumbling, he flopped down belly first on the mattress. “Sorry. Overdid.” He stuck his hand out to her, and her heartbeat kicked into high gear. “Wanna snuggle?”

God, this man was going to be the death of her. Or help her find a whole new life.

“Can’t refuse that offer. Just let me put Telly in my room.” She rushed over to the cage, distinctly aware of the stubble burn between her thighs. Ouch. At the last minute, she shrugged into the robe he never wore that hung on the back of the door. Not that she needed to get dressed since they were alone in the house, but it felt weird to wander around bare assed in her best friend’s home.

And her lover’s.

Her grin spread while she hurried down the hall. Telly probably wouldn’t like being sequestered, but she’d give him extra treats to make up for it. After that performance, Brad needed his rest.

She pushed open the closed door, frowning. Hadn’t she left it open?

Her gaze lasered in on her bed and the person reclining there, her swaddled ankle up on a pillow. “Finally. I thought you two were going to get cited for noise violations.” Kim dragged out her earbuds and lifted her brows. “I only have one question.”