Never Too Hot (Hot Shots: Men of Fire 3)

Together they yanked off his pants and pulled off his shirt until he was levered over her, completely naked.

Ginger was sure that nothing and no one had ever felt this good. She wanted to touch and kiss every inch of him, take her time exploring his perfection. But those explorations would have to wait, because he was pushing her thighs apart with one knee and lifting himself up her body so that the head of his penis was pressed up against her open folds. And then, before she could take her next breath, he was inside her, in one long stroke.

“You're so tight,” he groaned, going completely still as her body stretched to accept his thick member. “So wet.”

She could feel him throbbing against her womb, her body answering with more wetness and fluttering way down deep in her belly.

“Please, Connor,” she begged, not knowing the right words to ask for what she wanted, but knowing it was waiting for her just the same.

But those two simple words were magic, because a moment later, he began the long, slow slide out, then back in.

Out. In. Out. In. Over and over again until she was delirious with desire and the peak that she'd crested only minutes earlier was, amazingly, back within reach.

She pulled his face down to hers so that she could show him with her kisses how much this lovemaking meant to her. That it was everything she'd been waiting for. That being with him was so much more than anything she'd ever felt before.

And as they kissed, he grew bigger still inside her until that moment when she felt her hold on her body give way again to another mind-blowing orgasm and he was throbbing and pulsing inside of her, pushing harder, higher, deeper as they both came.

Panting hard, her skin still slick from the rain, but mostly from the intense heat they'd generated, Connor shifted their weight so that his back was on the mattress and her head was cradled against his chest.

One of his arms over her hip, one leg wound against her, exhaustion swept over her, the perfect kind of tiredness that came from having given all of herself. It was similar to how she felt after an all-day painting marathon, but far more special.

Because she wasn't alone.

Connor breathed her in, the delicious scent that was so unique to Ginger. Her name said it all; sweet and spicy mingling together in the perfect package.

He hadn't meant to attack her like that. Hadn't meant to bury his face in her br**sts, between her legs. Hadn't meant to pound her hard into the mattress. But he hadn't been able to help himself.

It was the first time he'd ever completely lost control with a woman.

And yet, as he lay there with Ginger warm in his arms, he knew it had been about more than just making her come, more than loving the feel of her soft flesh in his hands.

She was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. He'd felt her surprise when he'd said as much to her, and he'd wanted so badly to erase all those years of fat camps, all the horrible things her husband had done to her. He knew he'd never find the words, but here in his bed, in the dark, he could show her how special she was.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths to try to steady his heartbeat, counting backward from one hundred to let her fall asleep, but somewhere around thirty, he was kissing her again and she was responding by rubbing her br**sts against his chest. Wanting to go slower this time, he kissed her along her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin, then her neck and collarbones. His hands ran softly over her br**sts, to her waist and hips.

Rolling her over so that she was lying on top of him, he said, “You make me crazy, Ginger,” his voice rough with desire, and then she was grinding against him, bringing him back in record time.

“You. These.” He cupped her br**sts together, then closed his eyes and tilted his face up to rub himself on her like a lion would his mate. “There are no words,” he finally said a moment before he sucked one taut nipple in between his lips.

She arched her back to give him better access to her br**sts and he was laving both br**sts at once, his tongue darting, his teeth lightly scoring her ni**les, his stubble brushing against her flushed skin.

He could feel how ready she was as she rocked into his erection and then he was pushing up into her again, sounds coming out of their mouths that they couldn't control, and everything was connected, his mouth on her br**sts, his hands on her hips as she rode him faster, harder, his desire for her growing bigger, stronger than anything he'd known was possible. And then, she was crying out, slamming herself against him as she reached the pinnacle and started to fall.

Her orgasm was so sweet he swore he could hear the angels sing as she came, and then he stopped trying to hold on to his self-control and gave himself up completely to pure pleasure.

Minutes later, with Ginger's curves pressed up tight into him, her breathing soft and even as the storm raged above them, Connor fell into the deepest sleep he'd had in two years.

Chapter Twelve

SNIPPETS OF the previous night slowly came to Ginger as she woke up. Remembrances of intense pleasure. Connor's mouth on her. Moaning — screaming — his name as she came. And then as she grew more fully awake she realized that she was in his bed, and he was still there with her, his large arms holding her tightly against him.

He was running the tip of his fingers over her hips, the small of her back, the side of her br**sts. But she hadn't yet tasted him with her lips, her tongue, and now it was what she most wanted, so she put her hands on his chest and said, “I want to give you pleasure.”

He groaned and shook his head. “Sweetheart, I don't know if I can let you-”

This time she finished his sentence with a kiss, pushing him flat on his back on the bed.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispered as she ran kisses down his face, his shoulders, his chest. The deeply ridged muscles on his stomach rippled and tightened as she brushed her fingertips over the peaks and valleys.

His erection bumped into her forearm and she shifted her attention lower, to his impressive penis. Her mouth watered and she didn't think, she just did what was natural and bent over to taste him. Her hair brushing against him made him groan again and then she was pressing her lips to the soft, hot skin stretched across the head of his cock. She'd never thought the word before, but it was the perfect description for his magnificent erection.

His hands threaded into her hair, helping her take him deeper. She was amazed by how sexy this was, how good it felt to give him such deep pleasure. She moved her mouth slowly back up, then down him, once, then twice. With every stroke of her tongue, he grew bigger, harder. And then, she was on her back on the bed and he was driving in between her thighs, and she was crying out his name.

her they yanked off his pants and pulled off his shirt until he was levered over her, completely naked.

Ginger was sure that nothing and no one had ever felt this good. She wanted to touch and kiss every inch of him, take her time exploring his perfection. But those explorations would have to wait, because he was pushing her thighs apart with one knee and lifting himself up her body so that the head of his penis was pressed up against her open folds. And then, before she could take her next breath, he was inside her, in one long stroke.

“You're so tight,” he groaned, going completely still as her body stretched to accept his thick member. “So wet.”

She could feel him throbbing against her womb, her body answering with more wetness and fluttering way down deep in her belly.

“Please, Connor,” she begged, not knowing the right words to ask for what she wanted, but knowing it was waiting for her just the same.

But those two simple words were magic, because a moment later, he began the long, slow slide out, then back in.

Out. In. Out. In. Over and over again until she was delirious with desire and the peak that she'd crested only minutes earlier was, amazingly, back within reach.

She pulled his face down to hers so that she could show him with her kisses how much this lovemaking meant to her. That it was everything she'd been waiting for. That being with him was so much more than anything she'd ever felt before.

And as they kissed, he grew bigger still inside her until that moment when she felt her hold on her body give way again to another mind-blowing orgasm and he was throbbing and pulsing inside of her, pushing harder, higher, deeper as they both came.

Panting hard, her skin still slick from the rain, but mostly from the intense heat they'd generated, Connor shifted their weight so that his back was on the mattress and her head was cradled against his chest.

One of his arms over her hip, one leg wound against her, exhaustion swept over her, the perfect kind of tiredness that came from having given all of herself. It was similar to how she felt after an all-day painting marathon, but far more special.

Because she wasn't alone.

Connor breathed her in, the delicious scent that was so unique to Ginger. Her name said it all; sweet and spicy mingling together in the perfect package.

He hadn't meant to attack her like that. Hadn't meant to bury his face in her br**sts, between her legs. Hadn't meant to pound her hard into the mattress. But he hadn't been able to help himself.

It was the first time he'd ever completely lost control with a woman.

And yet, as he lay there with Ginger warm in his arms, he knew it had been about more than just making her come, more than loving the feel of her soft flesh in his hands.

She was so incredibly beautiful, inside and out. He'd felt her surprise when he'd said as much to her, and he'd wanted so badly to erase all those years of fat camps, all the horrible things her husband had done to her. He knew he'd never find the words, but here in his bed, in the dark, he could show her how special she was.

Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths to try to steady his heartbeat, counting backward from one hundred to let her fall asleep, but somewhere around thirty, he was kissing her again and she was responding by rubbing her br**sts against his chest. Wanting to go slower this time, he kissed her along her forehead, her cheekbones, her chin, then her neck and collarbones. His hands ran softly over her br**sts, to her waist and hips.

Rolling her over so that she was lying on top of him, he said, “You make me crazy, Ginger,” his voice rough with desire, and then she was grinding against him, bringing him back in record time.

“You. These.” He cupped her br**sts together, then closed his eyes and tilted his face up to rub himself on her like a lion would his mate. “There are no words,” he finally said a moment before he sucked one taut nipple in between his lips.

She arched her back to give him better access to her br**sts and he was laving both br**sts at once, his tongue darting, his teeth lightly scoring her ni**les, his stubble brushing against her flushed skin.

He could feel how ready she was as she rocked into his erection and then he was pushing up into her again, sounds coming out of their mouths that they couldn't control, and everything was connected, his mouth on her br**sts, his hands on her hips as she rode him faster, harder, his desire for her growing bigger, stronger than anything he'd known was possible. And then, she was crying out, slamming herself against him as she reached the pinnacle and started to fall.

Her orgasm was so sweet he swore he could hear the angels sing as she came, and then he stopped trying to hold on to his self-control and gave himself up completely to pure pleasure.

Minutes later, with Ginger's curves pressed up tight into him, her breathing soft and even as the storm raged above them, Connor fell into the deepest sleep he'd had in two years.

Chapter Twelve

SNIPPETS OF the previous night slowly came to Ginger as she woke up. Remembrances of intense pleasure. Connor's mouth on her. Moaning — screaming — his name as she came. And then as she grew more fully awake she realized that she was in his bed, and he was still there with her, his large arms holding her tightly against him.

He was running the tip of his fingers over her hips, the small of her back, the side of her br**sts. But she hadn't yet tasted him with her lips, her tongue, and now it was what she most wanted, so she put her hands on his chest and said, “I want to give you pleasure.”

He groaned and shook his head. “Sweetheart, I don't know if I can let you-”

This time she finished his sentence with a kiss, pushing him flat on his back on the bed.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispered as she ran kisses down his face, his shoulders, his chest. The deeply ridged muscles on his stomach rippled and tightened as she brushed her fingertips over the peaks and valleys.

His erection bumped into her forearm and she shifted her attention lower, to his impressive penis. Her mouth watered and she didn't think, she just did what was natural and bent over to taste him. Her hair brushing against him made him groan again and then she was pressing her lips to the soft, hot skin stretched across the head of his cock. She'd never thought the word before, but it was the perfect description for his magnificent erection.

His hands threaded into her hair, helping her take him deeper. She was amazed by how sexy this was, how good it felt to give him such deep pleasure. She moved her mouth slowly back up, then down him, once, then twice. With every stroke of her tongue, he grew bigger, harder. And then, she was on her back on the bed and he was driving in between her thighs, and she was crying out his name.