Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

His burning gaze turns my pale skin pink. His jaw pulses as he finishes unbuttoning his shirt and shucks it off, unzips. Pants gapping open, I can see his erection twitching as I stare at it, a wet spot on his boxers. He pushes his pants down and drags his underwear along with them.

Sigh. Double sigh with a back flip.

There are no words. None. I didn’t exactly get a good look last time I saw him in all his naked glory. You know, with him bleeding all over the place. But I am looking my fill now.

“Like what you see?” he murmurs as he opens his bedside table drawer and pulls out a condom. He watches me as he rips it open with his teeth and suits up.

“Like?” I rasp, my throat bone dry. “Yeah, you could say that.”

His mouth hooks up. Thank God I’m lying down because if I was standing right now, I’d faceplant.

“Good,” he says, moving towards me. He crawls up the bed, and over me. “Because I love what I see.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his smile falters, the mischievous sparkle in his eyes replaced by something significantly more serious. I see more than lust and need, more than a physical attraction that will not quit. I see everything, and he lets me.

Panic starts to overshadow the lust. This is about sex! Just scratching an itch! I remind myself. He must’ve sensed my flight instinct kicking in because he kisses me. So soft and sweet. The panic turns into unbridled excitement of the earth shaking sex I’m about to have. With his face above mine and his hands bracketing my head, he holds his upper body suspended while his lower body settles between my thighs. His hot length presses against me, sliding. I moan and whimper and struggle for more. I need to feel him over every square inch of my skin. I need to feel the weight and strength of him pushing me into the mattress.

I cup his face and bring it closer, our lips a breadth away. “Stop teasing me.”

“So impatient,” he murmurs in a voice that speaks to the basest part of me.

Bring it on, my mind screams, bring it all on. And he does. He gives me what I need. His tongue slips into my mouth and makes love to mine. He cups my breast and rubs his calloused thumbs over my sensitive nipples and I arch closer––the calluses only I know he gets from pounding away at that sheetrock. Rocking his hips, he swallows my moans. We’ve been dancing around this for far too long, the slow burning foreplay serves as tinder to the fire inherently burning between us––no app necessary.

On the next rock, he pushes inside of me with a force that makes me gasp and dig my short nails into his back muscles. His fingers threaded in my hair, he tugs on it to look at my face. “You okay, baby?”

Baby? Oh God, I actually like that. I give him a short nod and he rolls his hips again. And just like that I’m on the verge of coming.

“You feel so good, Amber. Nothing has ever felt as good.”

One big hand grips the back of my knee and hikes my leg up, hooking it around his waist, sinking even deeper into me, sinking all the way to the root. His grip on my hair tightens possessively and the prickle of my scalp translates into a throb between my thighs.

My nice guy…a hair puller. I’m grinning from ear to ear. This man is full of surprises.

Sensing my amusement, he looks at me. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m happy. And I want you.” His hips have mine pinned down. “Move.”

I cup his ass and squeeze. His eye lids drop, gaze filled with lust.

“I want you too. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

“Well then stop talking and get to work.”

He smoothly pulls his hips out and slams into me. I cry out and dig my fingers into his ass muscles. “It’s been a while so this may be quick. But it’s just the start, baby,” he murmurs, his pace as steady as his words. He swivels his hips, tests the angle until I gasp. His teeth scrape my neck. The pads of his rough fingertips play with my nipple while he drives into me. The pleasure builds quickly. Almost too quickly, I need it to last. As soon as he senses my impending O he picks up the pace.

Uncorked, my orgasm explodes through me. But Ethan doesn’t stop. He keeps driving, prolonging my pleasure. His breath tickles my ear as he murmurs words I can’t make out. Words of encouragement, I think. I am fighting not to lose myself in this feeling of completion, of wholeness of body and spirit. Sweat beads on his forehead and he bites his bottom lip, staving off his own release for my benefit.