* * *
Later, back in bed, I propped myself up on my elbow, gazing down at her. We’d cleaned the kitchen, had a shower, and I’d pulled her back to the mattress beside me. I wrapped a damp curl around my finger, feeling the softness between my fingers.
“Has anyone ever told you how amazing you are?” I asked.
“Stop,” she hushed me.
“No. You are.”
“Maybe that’s postcoital glow talking.”
I lowered my head and kissed her. “There is that, but it’s much more. It’s you. You make me feel like—Simon.”
She cupped my cheek. “You don’t usually feel that way?”
“Not for a long time. I’m Simon the money guy. Simon the divorced guy. Simon the single dad. Simon the responsible adult who puts everyone and everything else first.” I sighed. “Tonight, I was just me. Enjoying a night out with a beautiful, sexy woman. Eating the food I like. Drinking a great glass of wine. Kissing and touching you because I wanted to. Because you wanted me to. It felt good.”
Her fingers moved restlessly on my cheek. “I like just Simon,” she whispered. “I like him a lot.”
“Good. Because he likes you too.”
I covered her mouth with mine and kissed her until she was breathless. Until my body pulsated with need for her, a steady beating rhythm under my skin that would only be satisfied once I’d had her again.
I hovered over her, staring into her fathomless eyes. “Should I stop?”
She slid her arms around my neck. “God, no. But you should come with a warning label, Simon Fletcher.”
I grinned. “What warning would that be?”
“Sort of like the Energizer bunny. Unending.”
“Pleasure,” I replied.
“What?” she asked, furrowing her brow.
“Unending pleasure. That’s what I give.”
She pulled me down, our chests melding, her skin silky against mine.
“Okay, then. Give away.”
* * *
I woke in the morning later than usual. Amy slept beside me, a warm bundle of softness. Her hair was wild—a mass of golden wheat across the pillow. She faced me, her lips pursed as she slept, her arm draped over my waist. Her bare shoulders gleamed in the morning sun, her tattoo vivid on her creamy skin. I had traced that ink with my tongue. Tasted the honey of her, the sweet with the salt. I knew how thick and silken her hair felt around my hand. How she tasted—everywhere. Her incredible passion.
“Stop staring at me, stalker,” she mumbled.
I chuckled. “You are too irresistible not to stare.”
She opened one eye, peeking at me. “You’re talking with your cock.”
I laughed. “He’s gifted, but talking isn’t one of his strengths. He is far better at communicating in other ways.”
She shifted closer. “He is talented.”
I groaned as she wrapped her hand around me. “Baby, you have to be sore. I’ve had you four times in the past twelve hours.”
“Surprisingly, I’m not.”
She stroked me, her touch firm and perfect. I had no idea how I could be hard again. Feel this level of lust for this woman. But I did.
She pushed me onto my back, straddling me. I gazed up at her, the way her hair tumbled down her back. Her small, firm breasts peaked in the cool morning air. On her hip was another tattoo. A small bunch of flowers that bloomed bright colors on her skin. She was a warm, welcome weight on my thighs. She locked gazes with me as she lowered her torso and took me into her mouth again. I pressed my head into my pillow with a long hiss of pleasure.
“Jesus, woman.”
“No,” she mumbled. “Just Amy.”
Despite the vortex of lust I was trapped in, I laughed. She chuckled, the vibration swirling around my shaft. I lifted my hips higher, needing deeper, closer to the sensation. The warmth.
Her thick hair tickled my thighs as she sucked and licked. She played with my balls, cupping and stroking. I was a mass of sensation, pleasure rippling through me as she took me deeper and harder. I moved under her, groaning and hissing, begging her for more. Wanting whatever she would give me. Never wanting this to end, yet desperate to feel the moment of ecstasy with her again.
She swallowed around me, and I fell. Hard, fast, unexpected. No warning or final buildup. I bellowed her name, cursed, and shook. Gripped her hair and praised her. Begged her again.
And then there was nothing. That blissful moment of peace where your body and brain disconnect and you’re floating, adrift and alone.
Amy curled up beside me, and I pulled her into my arms. I pressed a kiss to her head.
“You need to come with your own warning label,” I mumbled, tracing her lips with my finger. “Your mouth needs to be listed as a dangerous weapon.”
Playfully, she bit the end of my finger. “Made you smile, though.”
“Was that your goal?”
“You don’t smile enough, Simon. I like knowing I put it on your face.”