Wicked Dirty (Stark World 2)

As soon as my lips meet his, it's as if lightning has struck. The kiss is wild. Hot. Electrical.

It's deep and naughty and so fucking hot.

It's the kind of kiss that's a standin for sex--but right now, even that kind of kiss isn't good enough. I want the real thing. Hell, I'm demanding it.

I'm straddling his waist, and as we kiss, I slide down, feeling his cock brushing me. Teasing me.

"Lyle," I murmur, because I can't wait any longer. I know it's fast. I know there's been no foreplay. But I want this. I need it. To be connected to him. To be us.

"Yes," he says. "God, Sugar, yes."

He holds my hips steady as I lift myself, then tease us both as I slowly position his cock at my core. I lower myself just a smidge, taking in only the tip, then watching as Lyle arches up, groaning with a sound that could be pleasure or pain, or maybe a little of both.

"Want more?" I ask, my thighs burning as I slowly lift and lower myself, tormenting us both until I don't think I can stand it any longer.

Neither can he, because he grabs my hips and forces me down even as he thrusts up, so that he penetrates me so hard and so deep that I cry out, unsure where he ends and I begin.

"Yes." The word is torn from me, and as it echoes in the room, I ride him, my muscles straining as I lift and lower myself on his cock, as he holds my hips to steady me as he matches me, thrust for thrust.

I watch his face, our eyes locked in a shared gaze as passionate as the meeting of our bodies. I see the explosion building him, and I feel it building in me. "Close," I say, and it's the only word I can manage.

He understands, and he releases one of my hips, then slides that hand between my legs, stroking my clit as we continue this frenzied ride.

"Come with me, Sugar," he demands as his body tightens beneath mine. As he grows tense. As that same explosion builds inside me, too. A wild electrical storm that seems to coalescence in my core, growing smaller and tighter and more intense until finally--when Lyle cries, "now," it all explodes outward in a universe of stars and colors and vibrant light.

I'm completely shattered, and Lyle along with me, the pieces of us mingling as we slowly--slowly--come back together, then hold each other tight, bodies quivering, arms twined, as the world starts to rotate again.

"Wow," I say when I can breathe again. I'm beside him, my head on his chest. "That was--"

"I know," he says. "Incredible."

"I'm completely wiped."

"Me, too," he says, then kisses my shoulder. "Want to do it again?"

I laugh, then roll over in his arms. "Absolutely."

* * *

I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake up with my body curled up beside his, my back to his chest, and his arm resting on my waist, holding me in place.

His body is warm, like a furnace, and I want to stay like this forever, curled up in a limbo filled with streams of sunlight, safe in the arms of the man I love.

Forever, however, is going to have to take a backseat to mundane reality.

I slide out of bed, then slip on the T-shirt he'd been wearing last night. It hits me mid-thigh and smells of Lyle, and right then my idea of heaven is to spend the entire day in this shirt, wrapped up in the scent of him and the memories of last night.

In the bathroom, I check my face in the mirror, wondering if I look different. I've never been in love before, and I've certainly never been in love with a man who loves me back.

I bend close, my nose almost to the glass. My eyes are bright, my cheeks just a little pink, my lips still slightly swollen, a look that a lot of women pay big bucks for.

All in all, I look like a woman who's not only in love, but who spent the night making love.

And I have to say, that whole scenario is damn good for my complexion.

My thoughts amuse me, and I'm smiling as I head down the hallway toward the kitchen for a bottle of water.

But that smile freezes and then fades the moment I round the corner.