He kissed me, a kiss that was gentle but full of passion, of promises of what was to come.
I threaded my fingers through his soft hair, touched my tongue to his, and curled my toes.
I was with Sullivan. It would be okay. Hearing him talk like that, it reminded me that he wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t some young man who’d hijacked my life. He was the person I’d spent many, many hours talking to. The man who knew me as well as I knew him.
He rested me down onto the bed, his big body staying over me as his kisses traveled across my cheek.
I spread my hands out over his wide shoulders, trailed my fingertips to the dent of his spine and traced down to the waistband of his boxers. Beneath his flesh, his muscles were hard and solid, defined and taut. He was long and lean, not pumped up yet by the power that seemed to resonate from his body, as he shifted over me. Taking his weight made me greedy to feel more.
“Damn, you taste so good,” he said, propping onto his elbows and staring down at me.
I squeezed his buttocks through his underwear and wrapped my legs around his thighs. His cock was butting up against my mound, and through my knickers, my clit was receiving delicious pressure.
“You feel good,” I said.
He grinned and glanced downward.
I followed his gaze.
My breasts were pressed against his chest, the soft orbs straining against the lace on the negligee.
“You have too much on,” he said, shifting to the right.
He took hold of the thin strap of my negligee and slid it over my shoulder. He kept tugging until the delicate edging wrinkled then slipped over my breast.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, staring at my chest. “I knew you would be, but seeing you takes my breath away.”
He kissed my chest, just below my collarbone.
I looked at his hair on the crown of his head.
His attention dropped lower, and he traced the top curve of cleavage with his tongue.
My chest felt heavy, like the weight of my breasts had doubled. Need had engorged them, and my nipples tingled.
I drifted my hands up his back and weaved them through his hair. My action pulled my nightwear up, the strap tightening on my arm.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “this is all very pretty, but it’s got to go.”
“Fine by me.”
He lifted up and sat back on his heels.
I wriggled and tugged and pulled the negligee over my head. I tossed it to the floor, the action so wanton I giggled.
A smile spread on his face. “Wow.”
I dropped my gaze to his tented boxers. “Wow yourself.”
“I don’t know why these get to stay on,” he said, slipping his finger around the waistband of my black, lace knickers, “when everything else comes off.”
“So do something about it,” I said then bit on my bottom lip.
“I think I’ll do just that.” He tugged them off, then with a flourish, threw them over his shoulder. They hit the wall with a soft slap.
I laughed and crossed my legs.
He propped himself next to me, leaning close with his mouth hovering against mine.
My smile dropped as I studied the intensity in his eyes.
“I’ve heard you come,” he said, his expression serious.
I traced the curve between his neck and shoulder. “Yes.”
“Now I want to see it.” He slipped his hand over my bare breasts, over my belly, and set his fingers on my small strip of public hair. “Uncross your legs, Kay… Now.”
My clit trembled and a wave of need burst through me. I spread my legs. There was something commanding about the way he’d spoken—the volume gentle but the tone sure of obedience—and it touched a place deep inside of me.
His lips pressed over mine, and his tongue peeked into my mouth.
I kissed him back and clutched the tense curve of his biceps.
He rubbed a gentle circle, just above my clit, with the pads of his fingers.
“Ohh…” I gasped into his mouth. It had been so long since a man had touched me, and oh…that was it, just there. He’d got it right.
“Relax, baby,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” He kissed me again and worked his fingers lower, skimming through my folds and searching out my entrance.
I tried to relax and not be so tense.
“You feel amazing,” he said. “Better than any of my fantasies.”
“Sullivan,” I murmured.
“Shh… It’s right here.”
He eased into me, just one finger by the feel of it, but right to the knuckle.
I was wet and the dampness eased his way.
“Fuck,” he murmured, kissing his way to my ear. “Fuck, so good.”
I lifted my hips and the heel of his hand came into contact with my clit.
I gasped.
He pressed harder and added another finger.
“Yes,” I managed. “Fuck, that’s it.” It was as if he’d flicked a switch. Arousal raced in my veins. My heart rate skyrocketed. The need—no, the desperation—for more loomed within me, consumed me.
He set up a steady rhythm, fucking me with his hand, catching all my hot spots inside and out.
I bucked beneath him, my breasts scratching against the hairs on his chest. The impending orgasm was growing, the steady beat of his hand racing me closer.
A moment of wonder surged through me—how turned on I was, how near, with just his first touch.
I raised my hips again and a mewling sound escaped my throat.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he said, looking down at me.
“Oh, God, it’s so…” I whimpered. I was right on the verge, on the plateau before sheer bliss took over. It had claimed me so quickly.
“Let it go,” he said. “Come on my hand. I need it.
You
need it.”
He upped the pace, almost slamming his hand into me. His buried fingers were nudging the pressure toward boiling point.
I clutched at his forearm and moved my hand in time with his as he worked me.
I tipped over the edge.
My abdominal muscles bunched, and my thighs squeezed around his wrist. I butted into him, pressing down on him. A series of breathy cries left my mouth.
He caught them and kissed me while my orgasm ravaged me. Ecstasy racked over my nerves, and the image of the stars outside appeared behind my closed lids, flashing wildly.
My core seemed to clamp and spill onto him. My limbs trembled. My pulse thudded loud in my ears. Euphoria seared over my skin and flooded my thoughts.
Eventually, the tremors faded and I returned to the here and now. Panting, I opened my eyes and looked up at Sullivan.
He was staring down at me, his lips wet from our kisses and his hair flopping forward.
“That was amazing,” he said, his fingers still lodged within me.
“So quick,” I said. “I’ve never…” I pushed a sweat-damp lock of hair from my cheek. “With just…”
One side of his mouth tilted. “Well, I guess our foreplay has been going on for a year.”
“Yes, I suppose.” I pursed my lips and blew out a breath. “But still.”
“I want to make you come again,” he said with a determined glint in his eyes. “That was just the warm up.”
I relaxed my legs and released my leg lock on his hand. He slipped his fingers from me and traced them over my belly to my breasts, leaving a damp trail.
The scent of my arousal filtered up to my nose. “I suppose we have got some lost time to make up,” I said, fingering the waistband of his boxers.
“We have.” His face fell serious. “I’ll be gentle.”
“I know you will.” I smiled.
“We talked about some damn filthy fantasies, but if that’s all they were, I’m cool with that. I just want you.”
“I think now that we’re together, fantasy is blurring and reality is taking over.”
“You’re right.” He reached down and shoved at his boxers. “It was fun, though.”
“So is this.”
“I’ll second that.” He kicked away his underwear and slid over me. The tendons in his neck were taut, and the roped muscles in the balls of his shoulders, defined.
I spread my legs wide, and he settled between them, taking most of his weight on his elbows, but some of it rested on me—a hard and sexy weight that added to my arousal. He had the ability to make me feel so small and delicate, yet also brave and confident. I’d always be grateful to him for that.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Do you even need to ask?” I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and my calves around his thighs and pulled him nearer. I’d just orgasmed, but I was greedy for more. I felt like I couldn’t get close enough to him.
“Yes, of course I have to ask,” he said. “You’re my priority, you know that.”
“I’m fine, now go ahead and do what you’ve been promising to do for months.” I lifted my head and spoke onto his lips. “Fuck me.”
He growled as he claimed my mouth.
His erection nudged my entrance.
For a moment, I tensed again, the width of his glans felt impossible for me to accommodate. He was so big, much bigger than me. Then he nudged forward, his thickness prying me open. He went on a determined, steady glide, easing apart my clinging insides until he reached full depth. Our pubic hair meshed, and his solid body rubbed up against my taut, tender clit.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he moaned. “You feel amazing hugging my dick like that… You have no idea.”
“I think I do.” I clutched at his body. “Damn, you’re big.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He eased out then stroked back in.
He kissed me softly and made love to me with a steady, controlled rhythm. I could feel him so acutely inside me. His girth, the domed shaped of his head, the way he smoothed over my G-spot.
Another orgasm was simmering, not as needy as last time but fabulously deep and satisfying.
We’d already had the condom discussion—all bases were covered—and now I was thrilling at the thought of him coming inside me, releasing his pleasure and letting go.
Our kiss broke.
He stared down at me, concentrating, it seemed, on the tender movements of his hips.
“I’m close,” he gasped, his muscles turning rigid beneath my hands.
“Yes, me…too.”
He threw back his head and groaned.
Sweat prickled over my skin. My clit seemed to contract as he increased the pace of his lunges and his body swiped over it, on and on.
“Oh…oh…” I cried, digging my nails into his back. “Yes. Come.”
My impending climax tightened my abdominal muscles, and I fastened my legs around him.
He gave several deep, thrusting plunges.
Our bodies writhed. Control had gone. He kissed my cheek then nipped the skin on my neck.
I dragged my nails over his back and clasped him closer with my legs. My pussy clamped around the length of his cock. Ecstasy overtook me.
Roll upon roll of spasming bliss joined me to him.
“That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he gasped. “I’m going to…”
“Yes…yes…” I stabbed my fingers into his hair, turned his face to mine and kissed him…hard.
He scooped his arms beneath my shoulders, captured me against his chest and rolled so that I was on top of him.
Cool air hit my buttocks and wended over my hot back.
I sat upright, my palms pressed on his pecs, and ground my clit against him.
He groaned and arched his back. He grabbed for my breasts, and I pressed my hands over his and stared, through my climatic haze, at his face as he let his release claim him.
He gritted his teeth, tipped his head on the pillow, and his eyes scrunched up. He came.
My orgasmic tremors were going on for what felt like forever, the intensity not waning. I gyrated my hips, extending our pleasure and enjoying the new depths this position had shunted his cock.
“Fuck yeah…” He sat upright and grabbed me to him, his hips jerking his cock harder into me.
I groaned and allowed his mouth to ravage mine. I felt so possessed, so claimed by him. He was so deep, so much a part of me. I felt a part of him, too.
“Damn, you’ve nearly finished me off,” he gasped, his hands on my cheeks. “That was so intense.”
I gulped in air that was laced with the scent of his skin, our sweat, our sex.
“Yes,” I managed. “And wow, that second time.”
“Made you feel good, eh?” He grinned and slid one hand from my face down the length of my spine to my arse.
“Spectacular.”
He was breathing fast. “So have I proven…I’m man enough for you?” He grinned cheekily.
“You know you have.”
“Can’t blame a guy for checking when yesterday you accused me of being a boy.”
“Well, I can safely say”—I clenched my internal muscles around his cock—“that there is nothing boyish about you.”
He gasped and his eyes widened. “Minx.”
Suddenly, I was on my back again with a big, hot man over me. He’d managed to stay buried deep, and his cock appeared to have no intention of softening. “You know I’m going to make love to you again tonight, don’t you? Probably about ten times over.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, just give me five minutes or so to recover.” He kissed me softly, gently, as though exploring every millimeter of my mouth.
I surrendered myself to him. Time and space receded into another dimension that had nothing to do with us and the here and now.
I allowed happiness to wash through me. Months of waiting had finally culminated in my soul joining with Sullivan’s, and it was heavenly.
Chapter Eleven
I woke the next morning locked in Sullivan’s arms. Despite his promise, we hadn’t made love again. I suspected it was my fault as I’d fallen asleep with him still inside me. Two orgasms, it seemed, was my limit.
Maybe I’d have to work on my stamina to keep up with him.
I slipped from his embrace. He was snoring a little, his head deep in the super-squishy pillow and his hair sticking up in a hundred different directions. He looked so peaceful, so content.
I stood and went to the French doors. We’d left them open, enjoying the coolness on our tacky skin.
The dawn had broken, and the sky was awash with streaks of amber and gold. Its beauty caught my breath. So many sunrises had been colorless for me the last five years, the wonder of the new rays of morning light just not registering in my sad brain. But today, I saw them all in fabulous Technicolor. Shards of cerise and lilac, indigo and yellow, purple and orange.