Wild Kisses (Wildwood 2)

And when he stroked his fingers between her legs, wet heat swallowed them. “Perfect.”

He replaced his hand with his cock, and as he pushed into her, Avery sipped a breath, rocking her hips toward him. With her thighs in his hands, Trace pulled her wide and watched his cock push inside her. And, God, it was beautiful. Her hands gripped his forearms, head dropped back against the wall. He pulled back, and thrust again, and again and again. Until he filled her.

Pressure spread through his cock, his balls, his pelvis. Avery’s fingers bit into his skin. He fought to slow down, to make this wild passion between them last. Wished he could do this for hours in fifty different positions. Sliding inside her, feeling the slick, hot walls of her tight pussy give, open, then close around him with that delicious squeeze was absolute ecstasy.

Her head rolled side to side, mouth open. “Need it, need it.”

He used his body to pin hers against the wall, released one thigh, and slid his hand under her hair to grip the back of her neck. He pressed his forehead to hers. “I want you looking at me when I give you what you need.”

She obeyed, and the raw desire flooding her expression went a long way toward healing whatever wound had ripped open inside him. He hoped he could bring her enough pleasure to do the same for whatever pain he’d caused her.

Holding her gaze, he looked into her eyes as he pulled all the way out and slowly thrust.

“Oh, God.” Her lids fluttered closed, and her back arched as she lifted into him.

“Fuck, baby, that is so good.”

He thrust again, and her mouth dropped open, and that look crept into her eyes, the one she got just before she came. “You want it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He quickened his pace but kept the thrusts full and deep and strong, tip to balls, and encouraged her to meet him by using her thighs to pull her into the thrust. Which also helped him control the speed, helped him hold it off until she was writhing and shaking.

“Want it, Avery?” he whispered.

“Yes. Please.”

Goddamn, there was something about hearing her so needy that just rushed through his blood, and he hammered into her, slamming her back against the wall. When she broke, her pussy squeezed his cock so hard, Trace gritted his teeth to keep his own orgasm in check.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck . . .”

He gained a wicked amount of pleasure watching her come apart. Hearing the guttural sounds of pleasure thick in her throat. Feeling her pussy soak his cock.

And when her final shudders quieted, he kissed her, deep and slow, and started the build to a joint climax. She peaked again so quickly, he didn’t have to control himself long. His passion rose to a rabid pitch until he couldn’t kiss her deep enough, couldn’t thrust hard enough, fast enough. Couldn’t get enough of her even when he had absolutely all of her.

“Fuck, Avery . . .” He buried his face in her neck. “Need you.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, clutched his head, and lifted her hips to meet him thrust for thrust.

She cried out and arched, her hips bucking against his.

Trace matched her need, right on the blissful edge. “So . . . good . . .”

The orgasm clawed its way up his spine, digging deep into his core before it released in an almost violet explosion. Blinding light burst behind his eyelids. His brain went white. Every muscle in his body flexed, squeezed, or bowed. And Avery’s name kept coming from his lips.

When the climax subsided, Trace pressed his weight into her to hold her in place until he got the strength to set her down gently.

Long before that happened, extended moments of silence stretched and lengthened and deepened between them—but not in a good way.

Finally, Avery’s fingers floated down his neck and over his shoulders, followed by a whispered, “I think we have a problem.”

Trace’s heart sank, and an empty ache filled its space. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder. “Yeah. Guess we do.”

EIGHT

Avery opened the passenger door of her Jeep and pulled the taped list from her last covered tray of sample pastries.

“Okay.” She sighed the word and tucked her hair behind her ear, scanning the tray to make sure she had something special for all the big hitters on Dr. Morrison’s office staff. “Mandy caves for anything chocolate, Brenda’s mouth waters at the sight of lemon, Richard drops to his knees for cherry, and when Vickie tastes the new twist on my cinnamon rolls, she’s going to moan like—”