He finds the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head. I help him, tugging at his buttons and pushing his shirt open until I can get my hands on the warm skin beneath.
He murmurs against my throat, his lips trailing heat down to my collarbone. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking perfect.”
His words make me bold, but when he reaches for the waistband of my khakis, panic flickers through me as I remember the hair elastic, which was my improvised solution to buttons that won’t close over my changing body. If he undresses me, he’ll notice, and questions will follow that I don’t want to answer.
I catch his hands and guide them away from my pants. “Let me.”
I work at his belt instead, focusing on his clothes while he unclasps my bra and lets it fall to the floor. When his hands cover my breasts, I arch into his touch with a sound that’s part gasp, part moan.
I reach for my own khakis, turning slightly away as I work the hair elastic free and slide the pants down my legs. The movement is quick and designed to hide the evidence of my growing belly. Will he notice it? It’s just a slight thickening of my waist so far. I pray he thinks I’ve been eating too many tacos or something if he does notice.
“I’ve wanted you,” I confess breathlessly, stepping out of the khakis and turning back to face him, “Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”
He lifts me easily, carrying me the few steps to the bed and laying me down with careful reverence. “If you want me, you should have me.”
He follows me down, pressing me into the mattress as he captures my mouth again. I can taste the whiskey on his lips that blends pleasantly with the tea still in my mouth and notice the tremor in his hands as he touches me.
When he slides my panties down my legs with agonizing slowness, he pauses to look at me in the dim light. His hands skim over my hips and thighs, and I hold my breath. “You’re lusher than I remembered,” he says, his voice rough with appreciation. “Softer. More beautiful.”
The comment sends a spike of fear through me. Does he suspect? Can he tell my body is changing? When I look at his face, I see only desire and reverence, no suspicion or questions.
“Lusher?” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Curves in all the right places.” His hands map my body with gentle exploration. “Perfect.”
Relief floods through me, followed quickly by renewed desire as he settles between my thighs. The first touch of his tongue makes me arch off the bed, a broken cry escaping my lips.
He works me with devastating skill, alternating between broad strokes and targeted pressure until I’m writhing beneath him, my hands fisted in his hair. When he adds the gentle pressure of his fingers inside me, I come apart completely, crying out hisname as pleasure crashes over me. When I finally come back to myself, he’s kissing his way back up my body, and I taste myself on his lips when he claims my mouth.
I push at his shoulders until he rolls onto his back, then work at the rest of his clothes with hands shaking slightly from aftershocks. When I have him naked beneath me, I take a moment to appreciate the view of lean muscle, hard and ready for me.
I lower my head to take his cock in my mouth, enjoying the way he tangles his hands in my hair, and the harsh sounds he makes as I work him with lips and tongue. When I take him deeper, he grips the sheets with white knuckles.
“Danielle, you’re going to kill me.”
I pull back to look at him, relishing the way his eyes are dark with need. “Good. You deserve it after making me wait so long.”
“Not like this.” He stops me gently. “I want to be inside your pussy.”
The words send fresh heat through my system. He reaches into the nightstand drawer and produces a condom, and I take it from him with hands that are steadier now. It crosses my mind to throw it aside, but that would mean explaining why we don’t need to use it.
I tear open the packet and roll the latex down his length, savoring his breathing deepens at my touch. When I’m finished, he pulls me up for another kiss, then positions me astride him.
I guide the base of his cock with my hand until he penetrates my opening. I sink down onto his cock slowly, gasping at the sensation of being filled completely. We both go still for amoment, adjusting to the connection and the intimacy of being joined like this.
I begin to rock against him, setting a rhythm that has us both gasping. He grips my hips, guiding my movements as I ride him with increasing urgency. The position gives me control, letting me take exactly what I need while watching the effect I have on him.
When he reaches between us to find my clit, I cry out at the added sensation. The combination of being filled by him and the pressure of his fingers pushes me toward another climax embarrassingly quickly.
“Come for me,” he commands, his voice rough with his own approaching release.
The words push me over the edge. I convulse around him, clenching my inner muscles as another orgasm tears through me. The sensation triggers his own release, and he buries his face against my neck as he follows me into oblivion.
We collapse together, breathing hard, with our bodies still joined. For a long moment, there’s only the sound of our recovery and the storm continuing outside.
He murmurs against my hair. “Stay. Don’t leave tonight.”
The request is more tempting than it should be. The idea of sleeping in his arms, of waking up beside him, and pretending for a few hours that this could be simple is enticing, but I can’t. “I can’t stay all night. I have responsibilities.”
