He strode around to the passenger's side, flung open my door, and threw me over his shoulder, barbarian style.
I couldn't help it. I squealed and giggled all the way up the front walkway. He pushed through the front door and slammed it shut with a haphazard kick.
Without breaking a sweat, he headed up the wide stairway with me, still laughing, slung over his shoulder. I lost one shoe halfway up and the other when we hit the top step.
He strode down the long hall, heading straight to his bedroom. When he reached it, he hoisted me up and flung me onto his bed, where I landed with a fit of laughter that made my insides ache.
He stood at the foot of the bed, looking down on me with a smile so wicked, and a body to match, that my breathless laughter quieted to mere breathlessness.
He was so damn beautiful. And he loved me. And I loved him. I was living a dream, and I never wanted to wake up.
He leaned over the bed, and unbuttoned my jeans with one hand, and then went for the zipper. He straightened up, and took a pant leg in each hand, tugging slowly and surely until I wore only my shirt and underpants.
When he leaned down to tug at my panties, I said, "No fair. You're still dressed."
"Who said anything about fair?" he said, giving my panties a slow tug downward. "Baby, you are so beautiful," he said. "It hurts just to look at you."
"So are you," I said, motioning him toward the bed. "But you're too far away."
With a small chuckle, he grabbed my ankles and pulled me toward him, until my pelvis rested at the edge of the bed. Slowly, he ran a hand up my thigh. "Better?" he said.
I crooked my finger, motioning him to come closer. When he did, I gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged upward until he gave in, lifting his arms, and letting me tug it, hard, over his head and toss it onto the floor.
Leaning over me with his bare chest, with all those muscles, ridges, and tattoos, I could almost envision him as a conquering warrior, come to claim his prize. I felt my knees tremble and my breath catch. He knelt at the foot of the bed and lowered his head, kissing the inside of my thigh just above the knee.
That small kiss ignited a flame, sending a quiver of heat straight to my core. I felt his tongue on my skin and his hands on my thighs, caressing the skin with slow, steady strokes. His mouth moved higher with every kiss until I felt his lips brush my opening and his tongue giving me a long, sweet stroke.
I was panting now, squirming against him and gripping the bed coverings with both fists.
"I love the way you taste," he said. "And feel."
I felt a finger slip inside me, and I ground my hips upward, wanting more. So much more. Soon, a second finger joined the first, and he took my hot, swollen clit into his mouth. He sucked, lightly at first, and then harder, making me moan and sigh in time with the motions of his mouth and fingers.
I lifted my torso, resting my weight on my elbows, to look down at him. His eyes lifted, meeting mine, and something in my heart gave way. Because what I saw there, it wasn't just a gorgeous guy who knew exactly what he was doing.
It was a guy who made me feel whole in ways I'd never imagined.
And damn, I loved watching him. When his eyes dipped down again, I let my gaze soak up the rest of him, those powerful shoulders, those strong arms, the neck I loved to caress when we kissed on the couch.
When my head drifted backward, my body followed. Soon, my eyes drifted shut too.
The movement of his fingers and the motions of his tongue were sending me closer and closer to that sweet abyss. Then I fell over with a series of shudders and sounds that I wouldn't want the neighbors to hear.
When he lifted his head, I couldn't stop quivering as he stood, and finally unzipped his jeans. "I love you so damn much, Chloe," he said. "I never wanna let you go."
"Then don't," I said, "because I love you too."
I lifted my head, and made a motion to get up. I wanted to taste him too, to have him in the same way he had me.
"No," he said. "Stay right there. I want you just like this. You're so damn beautiful."
When his jeans reached the floor, and his navy briefs followed, I felt a shudder of anticipation. His body was a work of art, and not just the parts that had graced all those magazine covers.
Still standing, he pressed the tip of his massive erection to my opening, and then with one slow steady movement, he surged forward. My slickness welcomed him, closing around him as our two bodies became one.
Through heavy-lidded eyes, I watched him. The muscles of his abs shifted and moved in time with his hips, and I felt my own stomach contract, at first a little, and then a lot. His body was magnificent, and he knew how to use it.
Every thrust, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, was reaching places I almost didn't know existed, and not just with my body. It had never been like this. Not with anyone. Not ever. I ground against him, feeling him move inside me and relishing every motion.
