A strange ripping sound that she only deciphered later as the Velcro of his flight suit opening, a shrug and it was off.
Sophie desperately wanted him naked, wanted to touch that hard warm flesh she’d only felt beneath his clothes. He lifted slightly, holding his arms out, and she pulled a light cotton tee over his head, long, dark-blond hair lifting around that perfect face and oh God! He looked like Thor, like a Nordic god, larger than life, shoulders so broad they shut out the world, encasing her in a world that had contracted to her and Jon.
He eased her back down with a hand to the back of her head and caught her mouth again. Now. Now she could touch him, touch his naked flesh. She hooked her hands around his back, all that golden skin like steel, only warm.
She dug her nails into his back and it was like she’d kicked him into another gear. His thighs opened hers, he positioned himself at the opening of her sex and she hesitated. He was enormous and it had been a long time for her.
It was like he could read her, read her body. Instead of entering, he shifted so one hand could drift down her chest, over her belly, down to cup her mound. He was kissing her hard, tongue deep in her mouth, stroking.
Her sex contracted again. He felt that. He must have felt it against his hand, against his loins as her hips moved. He could feel how wet she was, how ready.
He didn’t have to ask because her body was talking to him. He knew.
When he slid into her, hot and hard and deep, they both moaned.
She lifted her thighs, opened herself up to him even more, and he began moving. Long, deep, slow thrusts. She was holding him so tightly she felt all his muscles in motion as he moved in her. Lean, incredibly strong muscles, with no give.
She’d taken an anatomy class once and could identify each muscle in his back by touch. Trapezii, deltoids, lats. She moved her hands down lower. Glutei. Mmm. All those muscles shifting and bunching and moving like a well-oiled machine, only warm. And alive.
God, he was alive, down to his fingertips and he infused her with life. He was strong enough for the two of them, such incredible power under her hands. He surrounded her completely, on her, in her. So close she could see only him, smell only him, feel only him.
Nothing bad could happen to her while he was making love to her. The world outside—that terrible world of death and destruction—receded with every stroke. Nothing else existed, only this powerful man moving in her. He was incredibly heavy but she liked that. Proof of how powerful he was.
He pressed into her deeply, holding her head between his two large hands, kissing her as if someone was about to come and separate them. No, nothing could separate them. She wouldn’t let it. Her hands moved slowly up his back, up over those strong, slick muscles, until she curled her arms around his neck, holding tightly.
Never let me go, she thought. The very notion of him leaving her body, of not feeling that heavy weight on her acting as a wall between her and the rest of the world, made her panicky. She tightened her arms around him.
He pulled out of her slowly, so slowly she thought she could feel the emptiness in her womb that he left behind. He held himself at her opening, the big head of his penis stretching her, but if he pulled back even a touch more, he’d leave her body.
No!
She instinctively rebelled at the thought.
She freed her mouth, placed her lips against his ear. “Don’t leave me,” she whispered and felt him jolt, as if in shock.
“God, no,” he muttered, lifting his head. His eyes were slitted, only a shard of ice blue showing. They were both trembling, panting. He moved back into her, just a little. God, he’d somehow become even larger. “Does that feel like I can leave you?”
She stared into his eyes, aware of him over every inch of her body. Cheeks flushed, face grim, he looked as if he were almost in pain. She felt the same way. They were barely making love and it was the most intense experience of her life. He pressed forward just a little and her vagina clenched hard.
She shook, on the very edge of orgasm.
“Jesus.” Jon closed his eyes then opened them again, staring into hers. His jaw clenched so hard she could hear his teeth grinding. “I need to move fast now,” he panted. “Is that okay?”
Those words, and the image they evoked, set her off. She clenched around him, arching her neck back, breath leaving her lungs in a burst.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, moving hard and fast inside her.
CHAPTERTHREE
Eyes closed,Sophie drifted. She was wiped out, completely depleted. Every cell lax, ripe with pleasure, a pleasure she thought had left the world. Apparently not. Apparently there were small pockets of mind-blowing pleasure still around.
And the source of one was lying on top of her, heavy as an elephant.
A tap on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered, but she couldn’t open them. Too much effort…she drifted again.
Another tap. Annoying. “Sophie,” a deep voice commanded. “Open those beautiful eyes.”
“Mmm.” She tried to breathe in but he was so heavy he was bending her ribs. But still, it was a wonderful sensation. A heavy male body, brimming with heat and life. Her arms tightened around him, then slid away as he lifted himself up off her, resting on his forearms. “Sophie!” It was a barked command, in a voice used to command.
