Some Like it Hotter

She should send him a thank-you note.

Ames began his adoration of her other breast, her other nipple...

Eva rolled to her side and hooked her leg over the top of his hip so his warm penis teased her sex, slight nudges that would take him where he wanted to go—where she wanted him, too.

He groaned and took hold of her buttock, pressing her firmly against his erection. “I’m getting this...this vision of our future.”

“Yes?” She wriggled down slightly to improve the angle between their bodies. “Wait...I’m seeing it, too. It involves you deep inside me. Yes?”

“Yes.” He rolled her to her back, grinning sensually, and kissed her. “Ye-e-e-es.”

“Mmm.” Eva reached for his erection with one hand and guided it home, spreading her labia with the other so he could slide in easily. “Ohhh.” She spoke against his mouth, loving that first penetration, the way his cock gradually advanced, stretching her, pushing in, pulling out, bit by bit farther in until he filled her completely.

Ames gave a groan of pleasure, then lifted his head and met her gaze, somber and sweet. She felt breathless, almost dizzy, trying to smile, not sure why it was suddenly difficult. He started to move, sending jolts of sexual energy through her nerve endings, his eyes warm and tender holding hers.

Eva’s almost-smile faded. Her heart gave a few uncertain flips. The wobbly feeling was back, as if she were on the brink of a chasm she didn’t understand, wasn’t sure she could handle falling into. She hooked her feet over his calves, used the leverage to return his thrusts, increasing the speed, trying to regain her stability in a solid base of desire.

It sort of worked. She closed her eyes, concentrated on the delicious friction of his erection inside her, the tugs on her clitoris that would eventually send her into ecstasy, the warmth of his chest against her breasts, the feel of his back muscles under her fingers, the bunch and release of his buttock muscles as he pushed in and out.

Sort of worked... Lifting her knees, she spread them wide, tightening her channel around him. Ames’s breathing accelerated, became harsh. He slowed his movements, trying to hold back for her, then reached between them, rubbing her clitoris as he thrust, holding his weight up on his left arm.

Eva’s desire rose, hot and sharp, became tinged with welcome desperation. The more she felt in her body the less she could feel in her heart. She thrashed on the pillow, lifted her head, let it drop, moaning, slave to this man’s fingers on her, the penetration bringing her closer and closer to her climax, inevitable now, burning toward her, low and away, then sweeping her up slow-motion to a height where it stretched nearly interminably before bursting into a peak.

She cried out at the dizzying explosion, clutching his arms as her muscles contracted around him.

Ames dropped fully back onto her, pushing hard, then stiffened, thrust once, twice, breathing out in a harsh groan as he came.

Oh, gosh. Oh, my gosh. She wasn’t sure she’d ever come that hard in her life.

No, it wasn’t that. She hadn’t come that hard with someone, feeling nearly a part of him. Not ever before. Not even close.

Oh, gosh.

She clasped Ames’s body to her, panting, feeling his skin, his breath, his warmth. Instead of the usual exhilarating rush of triumphant infatuation, there was a deep, gravely sweet ache in her chest.

This wasn’t right. This was weird. She should be happy, for heaven’s sake. Men made her happy! Being held in a man’s arms was sheer bliss. This was not bliss. It was somber and intense and almost frightening.

And when Ames lifted his head and gazed into her eyes without a hint of a grin, without a hint of the score! mentality, just a visual reflection of the lovely serious feeling inside her, it all became much worse. She nearly burst into tears.

Ames Cooke was so beautiful.

Eva Meyer was so messed up.

He excused himself to clean up. Eva lay still, staring blankly at the ceiling, giving herself a good talking-to. Something was troubling her, that was all. Maybe she was homesick for California and investing too much in her emotions around Ames as some kind of substitute safe harbor. Maybe deep down she felt guilty, that she should be home with Zac. Maybe she’d acted recklessly moving here, and didn’t belong in this intense black-and-white city with all her crazy California colors.