The Heart Principle (The Kiss Quotient 3)

“Very good.”

His lips find mine, and he licks me, sucks on my bottom lip, before plunging his tongue deep, claiming my mouth with a drugging kiss. His hands rove over my body, squeezing my curves, palming my breasts. He teases my nipples until I’m gasping into his kiss and digging my nails into his shoulders as my body responds to him helplessly. My inner muscles tighten and clench on nothing, and I move my legs restlessly, run the soles of my feet along his calves. That’s when I feel him, hard now, between my legs. When I roll my hips, my sex strokes over his length, and he breaks the kiss as he makes a hoarse sound.

“Quan, you—”

“Just kissing,” he repeats before he takes my mouth in another deep kiss.

That works for me, so I lose myself in the moment. I stroke his tongue with mine, I revel in the taste and texture of his mouth, I glory in the feel of his body against my body, against my hands, against my sex. I arch my back, and the tip of his length dips inside me. It’s so tempting, so good, that I push into the sensation, taking more of him.

He stills my movements with a firm hand on my hip. “I should—we should—a condom.”

“You said just kissing,” I murmur before I brush my lips across his, giving him tiny teasing kisses.

“This is more than just kissing.” As if to prove the point, he flexes his hips, and we both moan as I take another inch of him.

“Do you want to stop?” I ask in a breathy voice.

“Fuck no.”

“Then don’t.” I kiss him lightly and undulate my hips, loving the feeling as my body stretches to accept him.

He makes a pained sound as he pushes in deeper, pulls out a fraction, pushes in again. “You don’t want me to use a condom?”

“I got tested after Julian . . . changed our relationship. Because I thought he might have started seeing other people before he told me,” I manage to say. It’s hard to focus when he’s just inside me like this. Instinctively, I crave a more complete joining, even though I know it won’t satisfy the ache in my body. “I don’t have anything. Do you?”

“I don’t have anything.” He kisses me, but only briefly, like he can’t help himself. “Are you sure?”

“Ye—es.” The word turns into a moan as he pushes in the rest of the way.

Breathing hard, shuddering, gripping my hip tightly, he says, “Nothing has ever felt as good as you do right now.”

His words make me light up with happiness despite the fact that I have very little responsibility for what he’s enjoying at the moment. It’s not like I dutifully practice Kegels every day to optimize my vaginal muscle tone for his maximal pleasure. For lack of anything better, I say, “Thank you.”

A rough laugh cracks from his chest. “You’re the only person who could make me laugh at a time like this.”

Smiling into the dark, I say it again, whispering in his ear, “Thank you.”

He laughs as he kisses me, and I feel his smile on my smile. I wrap my arms around him, wondering how I don’t light up the room when I glow like this.

He moves between my legs with a slow sinuous movement of his hips, pulling away and returning to me like waves on the seashore. It’s so sexy that I wish the lights were on. I want to see him moving against me. I can’t help arching into the motion, claiming as much of him as I can. I’ll never orgasm this way, but my body craves what it craves. It craves him.

Our position changes slightly as he urges me onto my back and captures one of my hands. I don’t understand what he wants until he eases it between our hips and whispers, “Make it feel good, Anna.”

Unease threads through me. I can’t shake the feeling that it’s wrong. I hide my face against his neck, saying his name in protest.

“So I’m not alone,” he says, and there’s such stark vulnerability in his voice that I can’t deny him. He matters more to me than the voices in my head.

Here in the safety of his arms, here in the dark, I touch myself. And I cry out as I tighten around him.

“Just like that,” he whispers, kissing my temple, sucking on my ear, biting my neck, licking the sting away.

I do it again, touching myself exactly the way I need, and I can’t help the sound that rises from my throat. Pleasure concentrates low and sharp, irresistible.

“More,” he encourages me, moving inside me now, retreating and returning with gaining momentum.

I can’t stop. Perhaps this is what I’ve always needed without really knowing it, to love myself without shame and without reservation.

He praises me with dark words, tells me he’s proud of me, tells me what I’m doing to him. He asks me if it’s good, when he has to know. I’m crying out nonstop as I climb higher and higher, lifting my hips to meet his every thrust, clenching down uncontrollably.