Craft (The Gibson Boys 2)

Slipping off my shoes, then my socks, I kick them to the side. I refuse to let her look anywhere else as I unbutton my shirt and send it flying. My pants and navy boxer briefs drop to the floor and go skidding to the side with the rest of my shit.

A smile tickles her lips as I palm my cock.

“Is this hard enough for you?” I ask.

The air between us sizzles, our gazes heating the space until it’s too much to take. We meet somewhere in the middle, our lips crashing against one another. Her hands wrap around my neck, her legs around my waist. I press her back to the door again, the shelf on the wall rattling at the force.

My shaft is buried between the ridges of my abs and the softness of her belly. She reaches down, touching the pre-cum glistening on the head.

“I have no condom,” I say, pressing my lips against the top of her shoulder.

“Now’s not the time to tell me that.” Her head hits the door, the sound thudding through the room.

“I’m clean,” I promise. “Had a check-up last month.”

She cups my cheeks, pulling my face to hers. “Why should I trust you?” she asks, nibbling my bottom lip.

Squeezing the cheeks of her ass, I groan. “Because I’m not an asshole. Good enough for you?”

“Fine. I’m on the pill.”

“Fabulous. But are you clean?” I tease, sliding my tongue into her mouth.

She laughs, pulling away. “Fuck you.”

“I want to, but I have to be safe too.”

“Yes, of course I’m—”

I’m inside her with one thrust, parting her flesh with a single, solid stroke. She yelps as her muscles pull at mine, cinching my cock like a sheath.

“I’m inclined to believe you haven’t done this in a while,” I chuckle. The head of my dick is pulled back so hard by the tightness of her pussy that it almost hurts.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Lance.”

“Yes, madam.”

I bury myself in her. She’s soaked, her pussy burning inside for me. I shove myself inside her again, feeling her pulse around my throbbing cock.

She softly moans, her eyes fluttering open like she’s in a haze she’s can’t get out of as I pound into her. If I had my way, I’d keep her here permanently.

She feels too good wrapped around me. Too good in my arms. Too fucking gorgeous, and she’s glowing from what I’m doing to her. Me. A man who has no business touching a woman like her.

I’m an animal, a guy that intentionally keeps emotion out of the equation when sleeping with a woman. So why in the fucking hell does this not feel like a normal, run-of-the-mill fuck?

“Hey,” she breathes.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

Mariah

A slow, sexy smile stretches across his face as he presses himself all the way until he hits the back of my pussy. I’m held between him and the door, his body sweaty against mine.

The butler’s pantry smells of sex and sugar mixed with Lance’s cologne.

I can barely breathe from the adrenaline, barely process the fact that he’s inside me. I’m dying for him to move, dying over the fact that he’s looking at me in a way I can’t deal with.

His chin lifts, his throat on full display. It leads to a set of muscled shoulders, a symmetrically perfect chest, and abs that make me whimper.

Tilting my hips forward, he doesn’t miss a beat. He rolls into me again, filling me with his rock-hard length.

He works himself against me, swirling across my clit. With each movement the door rattles, the cookbooks lining the door above us rustle against the shelf.

“Hold on,” he says.

Wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he cups my ass in his hands and walks me to a counter. Pushing aside a cookie jar and a canister of flour, he sets my ass down on the cool marble.

My legs dangle off of the edge. My breasts sit on the top of my bra, my hair hangs in my face which is assuredly smeared with make-up, but I hold my breath as he takes me in.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls.

I’m sure I’ve looked prettier, but I’ve never felt it more than I do right now with this man eyeing me like he wants to devour me.

“Show me,” I whisper.

His hands grip my hips almost too hard, dragging me towards the end of the counter. I reach for his cock, but he squats down instead.

He parts my legs and crouches between them, giving me a mischievous grin. His face inches closer to my opening until his tongue slides between my legs and laps at my wetness.

“Oh, my God,” I groan, my hands propping me up behind me. All I can see is the green of his eyes dancing with mirth as he watches me absorb the pleasure he’s doling out.