While his seeking hands made her moan. Naughty hands. Thorough hands. Learning every bit of her. She must learn as well. The slope of his neck, the curve of his spine, the hard muscle on either side, perfect for digging fingernails into. And every roaming inch she conquered, he gave her something back.
A hiss at her nails along his neck.
A groan as her fingernails scored his muscle.
And when she dared to lay flat her palms over the hard, rounded muscles of his backside, he jerked and moaned her name.
“Like that,” he breathed. “God, just like that, Emma.”
“And like this?” She squeezed.
And he growled. A peculiar reaction that shot a thrill through her; it made her shiver; it left her wet and moaning.
And when his kissing lips found her breasts, all sound caught in her throat, her back arching, her hips pressing against him, needing, needing—
He knew what for. He brought his knee up, grinding his thigh against her center, and when she rolled against him, he growled again, needing, needing—
She knew exactly what, and it proved a short trip from the lovely rounds of his backside, around the stone-hard muscles of his thighs, to the stiff length of him digging into her belly. Less hesitation now, than before, in wrapping her hand around him. And when he slammed his hands into the mattress on either sideof her, throwing his head back as some guttural sound ground in his throat, her hesitation disappeared entirely.
“Now what?” she asked against his mouth when she surged up to kiss him. Her body cried out for more, her breasts aching, her belly clenching as she bent her legs and dug her heels into the mattress. And she knew what more was. His fingers had imitated it, his tongue, too. But… but…
He bent his head to lick a circle round her nipple. Really, to drive her mad, to drive her higher. She drove him higher, too, with a single flick of her tongue across the head of his shaft, with the slow drag of her hand up and down it. He slipped a finger inside her.Yes. And he rubbed a circle around that nub in her curls between her legs that felt so indescribably perfect when he didjust that.
“Are you ready?” he whispered, deep near her ear. “I can wait.”
“Do not wait.” She placed hot kisses along the line of his neck, clawing at his back, wiggling against his thigh, needing to go higher, no matter how high she had already flown.
“You’re in control, luv. Position me between your legs and help me go where my fingers were.”
Yes. She did as he asked, her heart pumping loud in her ears, his mouth moving over hers with barely controlled restraint. His hand worked diligently at her center. If he was restraint, she was wild abandon, writhing, begging for what only he could give her.
The fall. Off the edge and over the cliff and into his arms, into that future they would share, stretching out in kisses and laughter, in tears and holding one another while they fell.
Fell together in every way.
He wanted her to ride him. Wanted her creamy thighs parted around his hips, and her rising up above him, glorious. And all his. One day. And such a quick learner. One day soon.
But for now, he waited, brushing the head of his cock against her opening.
She moaned, her eyes going glassy. She was so close. But she struggled, still, to grasp what she needed.
Did she need permission? Permission to take something for herself, to put her pleasure first?
Forget permission. He demanded it.
“Come for me, Sweetness,” he said, the head of his shaft teasing her opening while his fingers teased that little pearl hiding in her curls. “Come, Emma, scream for me.” He bit at her earlobe and curled his hand away from her for a breath, for two. “Tell me what you want.”
She cried out, a sound of loss as she urged him back to her. Needing his touch? Good.
He gave it to her, demanding at her ear in tones so low only she could hear, “Take it, Emma. Now.”
And she did. She fell, she screamed, and she tumbled mind and body into perfect pleasure. He watched her fall. It drove his own pleasure higher, the fluttering of her eyelids as they closed, the tangled red ropes of her hair spread like vines in every direction, her plump mouth parted on his name, her lush body arching and as she writhed, as he stroked into her.
Tight. Wet. Perfect.
But her so still, so suddenly. Needing him.
He brushed the hair off her face and brushed kisses along her jaw. “Scared, luv?”
