He pulled away, and I almost fell off the dresser to chase his lips, but he quickly hunched down to dig in his wallet for a condom.
I trembled in anticipation, having imagined this moment for years. It was almost too much but not enough all at once. My head swam watching him slide the condom down his length, my hips rocked, already seeking more. When I expected him to come to me, he dropped down, kissing and biting his way down my chest, taking only a moment to suck my nipples into his mouth before descending between my legs.
I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him to fuck foreplay, but he shoved my legs wide without care, making room for his broad shoulders. He used his thumbs to pull my folds apart and dove in. My whole body contracted at the first swipe from my opening to my clit. My fingers clawed at the hard wood, searching for something to hold me steady. He ate me like a man starved, sucking on my clit with purpose, pushing two fingers deep without warning, twisting and sliding until I thought my whole world would explode.
Just when I almost tipped, he stopped, standing to his full height, and kissed me—making me taste myself. His forearms tucked under my knees, and his palms gripped my hips, jerking me to the edge of the dresser. He pushed all the way in to the base, tearing a savage cry from my throat like it’d been waiting there for years.
For just a moment, he stilled, and we held each other. Foreheads pressed close, breathing each other’s air, we made a moment, committing it to memory. The moment over seven years in the making. The moment we gave in.
He hooked one of my legs around his hip and used his free hand to cradle my face and tip my chin to meet his deep blue eyes. Everything fell away, and it was just me and him—Nova and Parker—like we’d longed for, for so long.
His thumb traced the arch in my cheek, the edge of my jaw, the curve of my lip, and I just watched him, felt him filling me. Finally, he pulled back one agonizing inch at a time, only to slam back in. It started slow and steady, a pounding rhythm full of intensity and need. But the desperation came roaring back, creeping through our veins, pulsing with more, more, more.
We lost our rhythm. Our soothing, searching hands became frantic again, grabbing on wherever we could. Our kisses no longer explored with intent but roved and tasted every inch we could reach. His nipple in my mouth. His ass under my clawing nails, his wavy, damp locks in my fist.
He rutted against me, thudding the frame behind me against the wall with each powerful thrust until I was sure it’d come crashing down.
And I didn’t care if it did because, with each slide, my world came closer and closer to exploding into a million pieces, and all I needed was him to cling to, and I’d be okay.
His hand moved between us, his thumb slicking around my clit with quick sure movements, and I rocked harder, racing for the finish.
“Parker. Parker.” I cried. I pleaded. I whimpered.
One more swipe, and I fell. I did my best to stem the ragged screams of pleasure by shoving my mouth against his shoulder, but it was useless because moments later, he joined me and clung to me as he tipped too. We fell in each other’s arms into the abyss of pleasure. By the time the world came back into view, I was still in Parker’s arms, and he was in mine.
Our sweat-slicked skin stuck together. Our chests heaved in sync, trying to catch our breaths. Our mouths still pressed to each other’s flesh as if unwilling to part.
Prying my grip loose of his hair, I stroked my fingers down his back, just relishing the feel of him still stretching me, the feel of his naked skin under mine—a dream I wasn’t sure would ever come true.
“That,” he breathed, “was so much more than I ever expected.”
He finally managed to support himself and pull back enough to hold on to the condom and slip free. As soon as he was gone, I already wanted him back.
Tossing the condom in the trash, he returned to hold me in his arms, brushing my damp, tangled hair out of my face so he could reach my lips.
Our kisses were lazy and slow and just as good as the frantic.
“Hold on,” he muttered just before lifting me up and turning us to the bed. As gently as possible, he laid me back and rolled beside me.
“You, Nova Hearst, are wild.”
I rolled to my side, fingered the supernova tattoo along his ribs. “Nonsense. I’m just trying to keep up with the rock star.”