She was too spent to do much more than sigh and moan, so he slid her skirt up, baring her ass to his sight. “I’m not finished with you yet,” he growled, palming her roughly.
She whimpered and pressed into his hand, despite her clear satisfaction with what he’d done to her so far. That was hotter than anything else she could have said or done. “Steven.”
“I’m here.” He positioned the tip of his dick between her thighs, pressing inside of her just the slightest bit. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until I’m good and finished.”
Whenever the hell that would be.
She scratched her nails across the stainless steel counter. “Do it.”
He cupped her from behind, resting his palm directly over her core. His fingers brushed her clit, and she sucked a deep breath in. “I will. When I’m fucking ready.”
Slowly, lazily, he traced circles around her clit. She cried out, dropping her head on the counter, and fisted her hands. “You’re killing me.”
He chuckled throatily and pressed inside her a little more. “I’d never do that.”
“Steven, I—” She let out a strangled groan, cutting herself off.
He thrust into her even more, his fingers still working over her sensitive clit. She screamed and reached behind her to grip his hips. “You were saying?”
She let out an unintelligible groan.
Then she slapped his ass. Hard.
And that made the last string that held his control break free. He thrust all the way inside her with one hard stroke. She screamed, and her tight pussy clamped down on him as she came immediately. He moved inside of her blindly, forgetting all about the world around them, or why it was so important he retain control.
All that mattered was this. Them. Together.
“Lauren.” He pumped his hips faster and harder, his fingers still working over her. She climbed higher with him, her hips moving frantically beneath him. When he gripped her ass, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, she came again.
And he was right there with her this time.
In fucking heaven.
He collapsed on top of her, his breathing harsh and fast, and tried to grasp his thoughts. They were all over the damn place. He’d let himself forget why it was so important he wait to make his move. He needed to make sure he could get his shit together before he took another step toward her.
Before he broke her heart.
Pushing off of her, he stepped back, swiped his forearm across his sweaty forehead, and swallowed hard. “Shit.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
What the hell was she doing to him? Just the sight of her draped across the counter, ass up, made him want another round. But he couldn’t—shouldn’t—take her until he knew he could clean up his act. Until he was certain he could be her man, in every way, without ruining everything.
So instead of touching her, he walked over to the trash, removed the condom, and ignored every instinct that told him to take more. As he pulled his pants up, the timer on the oven dinged. “Cake’s done,” he said drily.
“Steven…” She stood, pressing a hand to her chest as the other smoothed her skirt back into place. She was deliciously disheveled, with swollen lips and a loose ponytail. “What are we doing?”
He cocked a brow and tucked his semi-hard dick away. “Baking.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
Instead of answering her, he remained silent. To be honest, he didn’t have a damn clue. He’d had to have her. So he’d taken her. And he would do it all over again.
When it came to her, he had no self-control.
Once it became clear he wasn’t going to answer, she gave him her back and strode over to the sink to wash her hands. He tried to get a read on her emotions and failed. When she shut the water off, she grabbed a towel and dried her hands, still not turning his way. She opened the oven door and bent down to check the cake, and it reminded him of earlier, which made his pulse race even more.