Текст книги "Beautiful Bastard"

Автор книги: Christina Lauren

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Thirteen

A million thoughts ran through my mind in that second. We couldn’t keep doing this. Either this would continue or it had to stop. Now. It was interfering with my business, my sleep, my head—my fucking life.

But no matter how much I tried to kid myself, I knew what I wanted. I couldn’t let her leave.

She practically sprinted down the hall but I chased after her. “You can’t pull something like that and then expect me to just let you walk away!”

“The hell I can’t!” she yelled over her shoulder. She reached her room and fumbled with her key before shoving it into the slot.

I reached the door just as she got it open, meeting her eyes briefly before she ran in and tried to force it closed. My hand shot out, pushing it open so violently that it crashed into the wall behind it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she yelled. She stepped into the bathroom opposite the door and spun around to face me.

“Will you quit running from me?” I followed her, my voice echoing in the small space. “If this is about that woman downstairs—”

She looked impossibly more furious at my words and took a step toward me. “Don’t you dare go there. I have never acted like a jealous girlfriend.” She shook her head in disgust before turning to the counter and rummaging through her purse.

I stared at her she grew more and more frustrated. What else could this be about? I was completely bewildered. Her anger usually had me slammed against something and half naked by now. Here, she seemed genuinely upset. “You think I would be interested in any random woman who puts her room key in my hand? What the hell kind of man do you think I am?”

She slammed a brush on the counter, looking up at me furiously. “Are you serious right now? I know you’ve done this before. Just sex, no strings attached—I’m sure you get room keys all the time.”

I started to reply, because in all honesty I had been in relationships that were strictly about the sex, but this thing with Chloe hadn’t been just sex for a while now.

But she cut me off. “I’ve never done anything close to this and I don’t know how to navigate it anymore,” she said, her voice getting louder with each word. “But when I’m with you, it’s like nothing else matters. This . . . this thing,” she continued, gesturing between us, “this isn’t me! It’s like I turn into a different person when I’m with you, and I hate it. I can’t do it, Bennett. I don’t like who I’m becoming. I work hard. I care about my job. I’m smart. None of that would matter if people knew what was happening between us. Go find someone else.”

“I already told you, I haven’t been with anyone since we started this.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t take a room key if it’s put in your hand. What would you have done if I hadn’t been there?”

Without hesitation, I said, “Handed it back.”

But she just laughed, clearly disbelieving. “Look. This whole thing exhausts me right now. I just want to take a shower and go to bed.”

It was nearly impossible to imagine walking away from her and leaving this unresolved, but she’d already moved away and was turning on the shower. Just as I reached the door to the hall, I glanced back to where she stood, already surrounded by steam, watching me leave. And fuck if she didn’t look as conflicted as I felt.

Without thinking I crossed the room, gripped her face between my hands, and pulled her to me. When our lips met, she made a strangled sound of surrender, immediately digging her hands into my hair. I kissed her harder, claiming her sounds as my own, making her lips mine, her taste all mine.

“Let’s call a truce for one night,” I said, pressing three small kisses on her lips, one on each side and a lingering one in the middle, in the heart of her mouth “Give me all of you for one night, no holding back. Please, Chloe, I’ll leave you alone after that but I haven’t seen you in almost two weeks and . . . I just need tonight.”

She stared at me for several painful beats, clearly struggling. And then, with a quiet, pleading sound, she reached up and pulled me to her, standing on her toes to get as close as she could.

My lips were rough and unyielding but she didn’t move away, pressing her curves into me. I was lost to everything but her. We bumped into a wall, the counter, the shower door, shifting and pulling in our desperation. The room was completely filled with steam now, and nothing seemed real. I could smell, taste, and feel her, but none of it was enough.

Our kisses grew deeper, our touches wilder. I grabbed her ass, her thighs, slid my hands up and over her breasts, needing every part of her in my palms simultaneously. She pushed me back against the wall and a rush of warmth cascaded across my shoulder and down my chest, bringing me out of my haze. With our clothes still on, we had backed into the shower. We were getting soaked.

We didn’t care.

Her hands roamed my body frantically, yanking my shirt from my pants. With shaky hands she unbuttoned it, tearing off some buttons in her haste before sliding the wet fabric from my shoulders and tossing it outside the shower door.

The wet silk of her dress clung to her, accentuating every curve. I traced the fabric along her breasts, feeling her tight nipples underneath. She moaned and brought her hand to rest on mine, guiding my movements.

“Tell me what you want.” My voice was rough with need. “Tell me the things you want me to do to you.”

“I don’t know,” she whispered into my mouth. “I just want to see you come apart.”

I wanted to tell her that she was witnessing it now, and in all honesty she’d been watching it happen for weeks, but words fell away as I skimmed my hands down her sides and up under her dress. We teased and bit at each other’s mouths, the sound of the shower drowning out our moans. I slipped my hands into her panties and felt her warmth against my fingers.

Needing to see more of her, I removed my fingers and slid them up to the hem of her dress. In one movement I pulled it up and over her head and stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of what lay underneath. Sweet Jesus. She was trying to kill me.

I took a step back, leaning against the shower wall for support. She stood before me, soaking wet in white lace panties that tied on the side with a satin bow. Her nipples were hard and visible beneath the matching bra, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to touch them.

“Fuck, you are so beautiful,” I said, running my fingertips along her taut breasts. A visible shiver ran through her and my hand traveled upward, across her collarbone, along her neck, and finally to her jaw.

We could fuck right here, wet and slippery against the tile, and maybe we would later, but right now I wanted to take my time. My heart sped up at the thought that we had an entire night ahead of us. No rushing out or hiding. No bitter fighting and guilt. We had one whole night alone and I was going to spend the entire time with her . . . in a bed.

I reached behind her and turned off the shower. She pushed against me, pressing her body further into mine. I cradled her face in my hands and kissed her deeply, my tongue sliding easily against hers. Her hips rocked against me and I pushed the shower door open, holding on to her as we stepped out.

I couldn’t seem to stop touching her skin: down her back, over the gentle curve of her backside, back up again along her sides to her breasts. I needed to feel, to taste every inch of her skin.

Our kiss never broke as we made our way out of the bathroom, stumbling clumsily while we desperately tore at our remaining clothes. I kicked off my wet shoes as I backed her into the bedroom, her hands raking along my stomach as she reached for my belt. Guiding her, I was quickly free of my pants and boxers. In a rush, I kicked them to the side, where they landed in a wet pile.

I traced along her ribs with my knuckles before sliding to the clasp of her bra, releasing it and practically ripping it off her body. Pulling her closer, I groaned into her mouth as her hard nipples grazed my chest. The tips of her wet hair tickled my hands as they roamed her naked back, felt electric against my skin.

The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the small sliver of light that crept out from the bathroom door and the moon in the night sky. The back of her knees hit the bed and my hands ran down to the last piece of clothing between us. My mouth moved from her lips, down her neck, and across her breasts and torso. I placed soft biting kisses across her stomach and finally to the white lace that hid the rest of her from view.

Sliding to my knees in front of her, I looked up and met her eyes. Her hands were in my hair, running her fingers through the messy, wet strands.

Reaching out, I took one delicate satin ribbon between my fingers and pulled, watching it slide off her hip. A look of confusion crossed her face as I continued running my fingers along the lace edge to the other side and did the same. The fabric fell from her body undamaged until she was completely naked before me. I might not have destroyed them, but she could be damn sure I planned to take these pretties with me.

She laughed, seeming to read my mind.

I guided her back so that she sat on the edge of the bed and, still kneeling in front of her, I spread her legs. Running my hands down along the silky skin of her calves, I planted kisses along her thighs and between her legs. Her taste slid around my mouth and inside my head, erasing everything else. Fuck, what this woman did to me.

Pushing her back to lie across the sheets I finally moved up to join her, running my lips and tongue along her body, her hands still tangling in my hair, guiding where she wanted me most. I slipped my thumb into her mouth, needing her sucking on me somewhere, needing my own mouth on her breasts, her ribs, her jaw.

Her sighs and moans filled the room and mingled with my own. I was harder than I could ever remember being, and I wanted to bury myself in her over and over again. I reached her mouth and dragged my wet thumb across her cheek when she pulled me down to her, every inch of our naked bodies aligned.

We kissed frantically, hands seeking and grasping as we tried to get as close as possible. Our hips rocked together, my cock sliding against her soaking heat. Each pass along her clit elicited a moan. With one tiny move, I could be deep inside.

And I wanted that more than anything, but I needed to hear something from her first. When she’d said my name downstairs, it had set something off inside me. I didn’t understand it yet, didn’t know if it meant something I wasn’t completely ready to explore, but I knew I needed her to say it, to hear it was me she wanted. I needed to know that for tonight, she was mine.

“I am fucking dying to be inside you right now,” I whispered into her ear. Her breath caught and a deep moan escaped her lips. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice pleading and her hips rocked higher off the bed in search of me. My tip grazed her entrance and I clenched my jaw, wanting to prolong this. Her heels ran up and down my legs, finally locking around my waist. I took each of her hands and placed them above her head, entwining our fingers.

“Please, Bennett,” she begged. “I’m losing my mind.”

I lowered my head so our foreheads touched and I finally pushed deep inside her.

“Oh, fuck,” she moaned.

“Say it again.” I was becoming breathless as I began to move in and out of her.

“Bennett—fuck.”

I wanted to hear it again and again. I pulled myself up on my knees and began thrusting into her more steadily, both of our hands still entwined.

“I can’t get enough of this.” I was getting close and I needed to hold out. I’d been away from her too long, and nothing I’d fantasized about while she was away compared to this.

“I want you like this every day,” I growled against her damp skin. “Like this, and bent over my desk. On your knees sucking my dick.”

“Why?” she hissed between clenched teeth. “Why do I love it when you talk to me like that? You’re such a prick.”

I lowered myself onto her again, laughing into her neck.

We moved together effortlessly, sweat-slicked skin sliding against skin. With each thrust she raised her hips to meet me, her legs around my waist pulling me deeper. I was so lost in her that time seemed to stop. Our hands were still tightly clasped above her head and she began gripping tighter. She was getting close, her cries becoming louder and my name leaving her lips over and over, pushing me closer to the edge.

“Give it up.” My voice was ragged with the desperation I felt. I was so close but I wanted to wait for her. “Let go, Chloe, come all over me.”

“Oh, God, Bennett,” she moaned. “Say something else.” Fuck. My girl got off on dirty talk. “Please.”

“You’re so fucking slippery and hot. When you get close,” I panted, “your skin flushes everywhere and your voice gets hoarse. And there is nothing more fucking perfect than your face when you come.”

She squeezed me harder with her legs and I felt her breath hitch, felt her tighten around me.

“Your fucking bee-stung lips go all soft and open when you pant for me, your eyes begging me to make it good and, fuck, nothing is better than the sound you make when you’re finally there.”

That was all it took. I deepened my strokes, lifting her off the bed with every thrust. I was teetering on the edge now, and when she cried out my name, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

She muffled her screams against my neck as I felt her let go, clenching wildly beneath me—nothing in the world felt as good as this, letting the rush build inside and crash over us, together—and I let go too.

Afterward, I moved my face close to hers, our noses touching, breath coming out hard and fast. My mouth was dry, my muscles ached, and I was exhausted. I loosened her grip on my hands and rubbed her fingers gently, trying to bring some of the circulation back.

“Holy shit,” I said. Everything felt different, but completely undefined. Rolling off her, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the tangle of thoughts.

Beside me, she shivered.

“Cold?” I asked.

“No,” she answered, shaking her head. “Just really overwhelmed.”

I pulled her to me and reached down, dragging the blankets over us. I didn’t want to leave, but I wasn’t sure if I was welcome to stay either. “Me too.”

The silence stretched between us as did the minutes, and I wondered if she’d fallen asleep. I shifted slightly and was surprised to hear her voice. “Don’t go,” she said into the darkness. I bent, kissed the top of her head, and inhaled her sweet, familiar scent.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Fuck, that felt good.

Something warm and wet enveloped my dick again and I groaned loudly. Best. Dream. Ever. Dream Chloe moaned, sending a vibration along my dick and straight through me.

“Chloe.” I heard my own voice and jerked slightly. I’d dreamed of her hundreds of times but this seemed so real. The warmth disappeared and I frowned. Don’t wake up, Ben. Don’t fucking wake up from this.

“Say it again.” A soft, throaty voice broke into my consciousness and I forced myself to open my eyes. The room was dark and I was lying in a strange bed. The warmth was back and my eyes flew to my lap, where a beautiful dark head of hair moved between my open legs. She sucked my cock back into her mouth.

In a rush, the entire night came back to me, the haze of sleep rapidly disappearing.

“Chloe?” There was no way I could be lucky enough for this to be real.

She must have gotten up sometime in the night to shut off the bathroom light; the room was so dark I could barely make her out. My hands drifted out to find her, my fingers tracing her lips around my cock.

She bobbed her mouth up and down on me, her tongue swirling and her teeth raking lightly against my shaft with each movement. Her hand slipped to my balls and I moaned loudly as she rolled them gently in her palm.

The feeling was so intense, the realization of my dreams and reality coming together, that I didn’t know how long I could last. She moved slightly, her finger lightly rubbing a spot just below, and a long hiss escaped my clenched teeth. No one had ever done that to me. I almost wanted to stop her, but the feeling was so incredible I was helpless to move.

While my eyes adjusted to the light, I ran my fingers through her hair and across her face and jaw. She closed her eyes and increased the suction, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. The combination of her mouth on my dick and her finger pressing against me was unreal, but I wanted her up with me, that mouth on my mouth, sucking my lips while I buried myself in her.

Sitting up, I pulled her into my lap, wrapping her legs around my hips. Our naked chests pressed together, I took her face in my hands, looking into her eyes. “That is the best wake-up call I’ve ever gotten.”

She laughed a little, licking her lips to a delicious shine. Reaching down I placed my cock at her entrance and lifted her slightly. In one smooth motion I was deep inside her. Her forehead fell to my shoulder and she rocked her hips forward, taking me further inside.

Being with her in a bed was unreal. She was leisurely riding me, grinding in tiny movements. She kissed along every inch of the right side of my neck, sucking and pulling at my skin. Short utterances punctuated every circuit of her hips.

“. . . like being on top of you,” she breathed. “Feel how deep you are? Feel that?”

“Yeah.”

“Want faster?”

I shook my head, absolutely lost. “No. God, no.”

For a while, she stayed slow, tiny circles, teeth all up and down my neck. But then she shifted closer, whispering, “I’m gonna come, Bennett,” and instead of releasing a string of curse words to describe what hearing that did to me, I bit her shoulder, sucked a bruise into her skin.

Working me harder now, she began to talk. Words I could barely process. Words about my body inside her, her need for me. Words about my taste and how wet she was. Words about wanting me to come, needing me to come.

With each swivel of her hips, the pressure began to build. I gripped her tighter, fearing briefly that I would leave bruises every time I moved my hands, and quickened my thrusts. She moaned and writhed above me and just when I thought I couldn’t hold out anymore, she called my name again and I felt her begin to spasm around me. The intensity of her orgasm brought on my own, and I moved my face to her neck, pressing a loud groan into her skin.

She collapsed against me and I lowered us both to the bed. We were sweaty and panting and utterly exhausted, and she looked fucking perfect.

I pulled her to me, her back pressed against my chest, and wrapped my arms around her, entangling my legs with hers. She mumbled something I couldn’t make out but was asleep before I could ask her.

Something had shifted tonight, and my last thought as my eyes closed was that there would be plenty of time to talk tomorrow. But as the early morning sunlight began to creep under the dark curtain, I realized with an uneasy feeling that tomorrow was already here.

Fourteen

Consciousness fluttered on the edge of my sleep-filled mind, and I tried to force it away. I didn’t want to wake up. I was warm and comfortable and content.

Vague visions of my dream passed behind my closed eyes as I snuggled into the warmest, best-smelling blanket I’d ever slept in. It snuggled back.

Something warm pressed against me, and my eyes fluttered open to see a head of familiar messy hair inches from my face. A hundred images flashed through my mind in that second as the reality of last night came crashing down on my muddled brain.

Holy shit.

It was real.

My heart rate quickened as I lifted my head slightly to see the beautiful man wrapped around me. His head lay on my chest, his perfect mouth parted slightly, releasing puffs of warm air across my bare breasts. His long body lay flush against mine, our legs tangled together and his strong arms wrapped tightly around my torso.

He stayed.

The intimacy of our position hit with a crushing force that actually took my breath away. He didn’t just stay, he clung to me.

I struggled to find my breath and not panic. I was keenly aware of each inch of where our skin touched. I felt the powerful thump of his heartbeat against my chest. His cock was pressed against my thigh, semihard in his sleep. My fingers burned to touch him. My lips ached to press against his hair. It was too much. He was too much.

Something changed last night and I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with it. I didn’t know what that change entailed, but it was there. In every move, every touch, every word, and every kiss, we had been together. Nobody had ever made me feel that way, as if my body were made to fit his.

I’d been with other men, but with him I felt as if I was being carried away by a hidden undertow, completely unable to change the course. I closed my eyes, trying to quell the sense of panic that was building. I didn’t regret what happened. It was—as always—intense and easily the best sex I’d ever had. I just needed a few minutes alone before I could face him.

Placing one hand into his hair and the other on his back, I managed to roll him off me. He began to stir and I froze, holding him close and silently willing him to go back to sleep. He mumbled my name before his breathing evened out again, and I slipped out from underneath him.

I watched him sleep for a moment, the panic receding somewhat, and was once again struck by just how gorgeous he was. Stilled by sleep, his features were tranquil and peaceful, and so very different from any expression he ever wore around me. A thick curl had fallen down across his forehead, and my fingers itched to brush it back. Long lashes, perfect cheekbones, full pouty lips, and a stubble-covered jaw.

Christ on a cracker, he’s pretty.

I started to make my way to the bathroom but caught my reflection in the mirror over the bedroom vanity.

Wow. Freshly fucked. That was definitely how I looked.

Leaning in, I examined the small red scrapes that were scattered along my neck, shoulders, breasts, and stomach. A small bite mark was visible on the underside of my left breast, a hickey on my shoulder. Glancing down, I ran my fingers along the red marks on my inner thigh. My nipples hardened as I recalled the feeling of his unshaven face brushing along my skin.

My hair was a wild and tangled mess, and I bit my lip as I remembered his hands twisted in it. The way he pulled me first into his kiss and then onto his cock . . .

Not helping.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by a voice thick with sleep. “Awake and freaking out already?”

Turning, I caught a glimpse of his naked body as he twisted in the sheets and sat up before pulling them over his hips and leaving his torso bare. I didn’t think I would ever get tired of looking at—and feeling—his broad, muscular chest, washboard abs, and tantalizing happy trail that led to the most gloriously hung man ever seen. When my eyes—finally—reached his face, I scowled at his lopsided grin.

“Caught you looking,” he murmured, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

I wasn’t sure whether to smile or roll my eyes. Seeing him rumpled and vulnerable in his half-awake state was disorienting. We never bothered to close the heaviest drapes last night, and now sunlight streamed in, blindingly bright against the tangle of white linens. He looked so different—still my asshole boss, but also someone else now: a man, in my bed, looking like he was ready for round . . . four? Five? I couldn’t keep track.

And as his eyes raked over every inch of me, I remembered that I too was completely naked. In this moment, his expression was as intense as his touch. I briefly wondered, if he continued to look at me like that, would my skin ignite? Would I feel his touch on my flesh the same as when he put his hands on me?

I fixed my expression into something I hoped camouflaged that I was mentally cataloging every inch of his skin and bent over to retrieve his white undershirt off the floor. It had been in front of the air conditioner all night and was a little cold but, thankfully, mostly dry. When I slipped the soft cotton over my head, I inhaled the sagey scent of his skin and then emerged, catching his dark stare.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “Come here,” he growled quietly.

I moved to the bed, intending to sit beside him, but he pulled me so I straddled his thighs, and said, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He wanted me to condense a million thoughts into a single sentence? The man was insane.

So I opened my mouth and let the first thought out: “You said you haven’t been with anyone since we were first . . . together.” I stared at his collarbone so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “Is that true?”

Finally, I looked up.

He nodded and slipped his fingers beneath the undershirt, running his hands slowly from my hips to my waist.

“Why?” I asked.

He closed his eyes, shook his head once. “I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret that. Did he mean he hadn’t met anyone he wanted but was open to it? “Are you usually monogamous if you’re sleeping with someone?”

He shrugged. “If that’s the expectation.”

Bennett kissed along my shoulder, to my collarbone and up my neck. I reached around him, grabbing the complimentary bottle of water on the nightstand and taking a sip before handing it to him. He finished it in a few long swallows.

“Thirsty?”

“I was. Feeling a little hungry now.”

“Not surprising, we haven’t eaten in like—” I stopped as he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned.

I rolled my eyes, but they fell closed as he leaned forward and kissed me once, sweetly, on the lips.

“Is monogamy the expectation here?” I asked.

“After what happened last night, I think you need to tell me.”

I didn’t know how to answer that. I wasn’t even sure I could be with him like this, let alone be monogamous about it. The idea of how that would work made my head spin. Would we actually be . . . friendly? Would he say, “Good morning,” and mean it? Would he feel safe criticizing my work?

He spread his fingers over my lower back, pressing me into his side and pulling me out of my rambling thoughts. “Never take this off,” he whispered.

“Deal.” I leaned back to give his mouth better access to my throat. “I’ll wear this and nothing else down to the poster session this morning.”

His laugh was low and playful. “Like hell you will.”

“What time is it?” I asked, trying to see behind him to the clock.

“Don’t give a shit.” His fingertips found my breast, and slipped back and forth over the soft underside.

But in the process of leaning away from him, I’d exposed the skin just above his hip. What the hell?

Was that a tattoo?

“What is—?” I could barely form the words. Pushing him away slightly, I looked up to meet his eyes before returning them to the mark. Right below his hipbone was a string of black ink, words written in what I guessed was French. How the hell had I missed that? I thought back briefly to all the times we’d been together. We’d always been rushed, or in the dark, or in only a state of semiundress.

“It’s a tattoo,” he said, bemused, pulling back a bit and trailing his fingers over my navel.

“I know it’s a tattoo, but . . . what does it say?” Mr. Serious Business had a fucking tattoo. Another piece of the man I thought I knew fell away.

“It says, ‘Je ne regrette rien.’”

My eyes flew to his, my blood heating at the sound of his voice dissolving into a perfect French accent. “What did you say?”

He definitely smirked. “Je ne regrette rien.” He spoke each word slowly, emphasizing every syllable. It had to be the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever heard. Between that and the tattoo and the fact that he was completely naked under me, I was going to spontaneously combust.

“Isn’t that a song?”

He nodded. “It’s a song, yes.” Laughing quietly he said, “You might think I’d regret that one drunken night in Paris, thousands of miles from home, without a single friend in the city, I decide to go get a tattoo. But no, I don’t even regret that.”

“Say it again,” I whispered.

He moved closer, hips rolling against mine, his breath hot in my ear, and whispered it again. “Je ne regrette rien. Do you understand?”

I nodded. “Say something else.” My breasts were heaving with each labored breath, my sensitive nipples grazing against the cotton of his shirt.

Bending slightly, he kissed my ear, saying, “Je suis à toi.” His voice was strained and gravelly as he held himself up for me and I put us both out of our misery, sinking down over him with a groan, and loving the depth of this position again. He whispered a single, profane syllable over and over, staring up at me. Instead of clutching my hips, his hands fisted the shirt at my sides.

It was so easy, so natural between us, that it somehow just added to the space of uneasiness that I couldn’t seem to shake. Instead of focusing on that, I focused on his quiet grunts into my mouth. I focused on the way he sat us up abruptly and sucked on my breasts through his shirt, exposing the pink beneath. I got lost in his urgent fingers on my hips and thighs, his forehead pressed to my collarbone as he got closer. I got lost in the feel of his thighs under me, his hips moving faster and harder to meet every one of my movements.

Flipping me over, he spread his hand flat on my chest, hips stilling. “Your heart is pounding. Tell me how fucking good this feels.”

Instinctively, I relaxed when I looked up at his cocky grin. Did he know I needed some reminder of who we’d been less than a day ago? “You’re doing that talking thing again. Stop.”

His smile widened. “You love my talking. You especially love it when it coincides with my dick being in you.”

I rolled my eyes. “What gave that away? The orgasms? The way I ask you for it? Good sleuthing.”

He winked, pulling my foot up to his shoulder and kissing the inside of my ankle.

“Have you always been this way?” I asked, tugging uselessly on his hips. I hated to admit it, but I wanted him moving. When he was still, it teased, it was sore, it felt incomplete. When he moved I just wanted time to freeze. “I pity the females whose discarded egos litter the path.”