Chapter 18 Gretchen
GRETCHEN
This man is magic.
There's no other way to explain how he knows exactly what to do to make me feel this good. From the way he looks at me like he can't believe his luck to how he touches me like he wants to commit every inch of me to memory, there's never been anyone else who's made me feel this good. This amazing.
This beautiful.
When he finally pushes back and strips his clothes off, I'm ready to beg for him to fill me up.
His body is all hard planes and angles, and the hard bulge I'd felt when clothes were still between us is revealed.
He takes it in his hand, giving himself a few hard pumps and my center clenches involuntarily. I want him inside me.
“Cooke, please,” I say, reaching for him.
He grins, eyes raking over me, and then prowls toward me until he's on the bed, hovering above.
“You're amazing,” he says, kissing me, and I can taste myself on his tongue. “Are you good with taking me bare, sweetheart? I'm tested regularly as part of the health requirement for my company. I'm clean. If you're not okay with that, it's fine. I'll wait until we have a condom.”
His willingness to ask the question is touching in this moment, but it also makes me wonder. “You didn't plan ahead and bring a condom with you tonight?”
“Truthfully, sweetheart, I don't think I actually believed this would ever happen. Thought you'd thank me for dinner and send me on my way.” He chuckles, gliding his fingers down my side, making me shiver. “And if this is all you want tonight, I'm happy with that.”
“If all I want is two mind blowing orgasms, you're happy with that?” I ask, lifting up to press my lips to his. “Thank you, but no. That's not enough. So yes, I want you, now. I'm tested at work too, and I trust you.”
Emotion smolders in Cooke's eyes as he looks down at me, then lines himself up, and slowly slides into me.
He takes his time, gaze locked with mine, waiting until I've adjusted to the stretch and complete fullness I feel, and when I nod, he pulls his hips back.
The second thrust makes me see stars, and I cling to his shoulders.
He hits the end of me with every stroke, and I can already feel that tension building again.
With each pull and push, Cooke builds up the waves of pleasure like a master.
He pulls my hips up, changing the angle, and it amplifies everything I'm feeling. His mouth seals around my nipple, teeth brushing over the tip, and I break apart, screaming his name.
Cooke doesn't stop, doesn't let me catch my breath.
He keeps up his relentless pace, hitting deep every single time, until he drives in, holds there, and shakes with his own release.
I don't miss how careful he is, keeping his weight balanced above me on his forearms. He kisses me again, this one slow and languorous, like he wants to savor the feeling.
Then he rolls us easily, so I'm resting on his chest as he holds me close.
I'm warm and cozy as he pulls the covers up over us, and I draw random patterns on his chest. “This is not at all what I thought I'd get for Christmas this year.”
He laughs, and I think it's the first real, true laugh I've heard from him. “Well, sweetheart, you're the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten. Truly.”
His arms tighten around me, and we drift to sleep, holding onto each other.