15 #2
As soon as she lifted her head, he lowered his.
His tongue— skit . It was soft and relentless. He nuzzled her, licked up one swollen fold and down another, and flicked her throbbing clit
so delicately she could have cried.
She reached down with both hands, tangled her fingers in his hair, and forgot herself. Forgot the world outside their hotel
suite. Forgot everything but his gentle exploration and the renewed ache of arousal making her shift restlessly against his
mouth.
He was patient. So very patient. But as soon as she could handle more pressure, he gave it to her.
Burying his face between her legs, he ate her, his mouth and tongue voracious. He licked her from slit to clit with a flattened tongue, then stabbed that tongue as
deep inside her as he could. His beard abraded her inner thighs and prickled deliciously against her oversensitive flesh.
And then he started fucking her with his fingers again.
They crooked and rubbed inside her, and she was making helpless sounds as she desperately ground against his face.
When he spoke, the words were muffled against her flesh. “You want it, Maria?”
She twisted her fingers in his hair and moaned, lost.
“Then take it,” he told her, and sucked her clit.
She crashed into orgasm, clenching around his fingers, against his mouth, with almost painful intensity. Eyes squeezed so
tightly shut she saw stars, mouth open, she panted and came harder than she knew was possible.
“Peter.” It sounded like a plea. For what, she didn’t know. “ Peter .”
He kept sucking, kept pumping his fingers, and she kept coming in little quivers and pulses. When they eventually slowed,
he eased back, flicking softly over her clit until she twitched against his tongue for the last time.
Her cheeks were wet. She couldn’t say whether it was sweat or tears.
When he finally raised his head from between her legs, he looked wrecked. Hair rumpled, beard soaked, face flushed, eyes wild
with need.
“Gods, sotnos .” Reaching down, she clutched his shoulders and tried to drag him on top of her. “We can undress next time. Get inside me
already.”
“Won’t last,” he ground out, but he was already unzipping his jeans and yanking down his boxer briefs, already reaching inside
his pocket for a condom. “Sorry.”
She waved a hand. “Coming again would probably kill me. You don’t need to last.”
With effort, she managed to stay propped on her elbows, entirely so she could ogle him more easily. Fy fan , he was sexy. All broad shoulders and generous belly, strength wrapped in softness, with the hardest, thickest erection she’d
ever seen.
It was hers. She wanted it. She didn’t care whether she had another orgasm or not.
As soon as he’d slapped the condom down the length of his dick, he pulled her up from the love seat. “You’re on top this time,”
he grunted. “Me next time.”
Good. She wanted that big body over hers, just as much as she wanted to ride his cock until he shouted her name.
He sat, then gripped her waist and hauled her closer. “Come here.”
She followed him down eagerly, straddling his lap. But before she could lift up to take him inside, his hands slid into her
hair. Gently, he tipped her head until his forehead met hers, and closed his eyes.
She stilled. “Peter?”
His erection prodded his stomach and her own, ruddy and insistent, and he was breathing in harsh gulps, his powerful frame
trembling at the effort of restraint.
Still, he glided his nose alongside hers in an affectionate nuzzle. Kissed her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.
Rubbed his damp beard against her neck until she squeaked.
The harsh set of his jaw softened at the sound, and he opened his eyes. They were heavy-lidded, his pupils blown with desire.
Hot.
They were also warm .
She had to swallow past a lump in her throat.
Then he cupped her face and softly pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with unhurried tenderness. As if he didn’t taste
like her, smell like her. As if he weren’t shaking with need.
He sipped at her mouth so slowly, so carefully. And when his tongue slipped inside, it stroked hers in playful little swirls
that dizzied her.
His kiss demanded nothing and offered everything.
It was the sweetest kiss of her life.
She clutched his shoulders and let go. Let herself sink down into the moment. Let the sweetness pull her under and trusted
him to keep her safe.
When the kiss ended, she smiled at him with open affection. Nudged his nose with hers. Then, rising up to her knees, she positioned
him with one hand and sank down on his dick.
His groan might have been ripped from the center of the earth, and his big hands clutched her hips in a near-painful grip.
But he didn’t move. Not a millimeter.
“It’s okay, sotnos .” Glorying in the pleasurable stretch of his body inside hers, she rocked her hips once. Twice. “You can let go now.”
“Can’t. You move.” He ducked his head and buried it in the crook of her shoulder, his panting breaths hot against her neck.
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
Grabbing his chin, she forced him to look at her. To see her certainty. “You won’t. Fuck me as hard as you like.”
The vein in his temple was pulsing with alarming violence, but he still didn’t move.
“C’mon, Peter,” she murmured, then slid up almost the entire length of his cock, until he was barely inside her. “I’m a big
girl. Throw me around a little.”
He finally lost control.
His nostrils flared, his hands squeezed her ass with bruising possessiveness, and he shoved her back down on his dick with
a snarl.
Before she even had time to gasp in pleasure, he’d begun bucking his hips, fucking her with such ferocious power that all she could do was hold on. Each impact jolted through her like a thun derbolt, and gods above, it even felt like lightning. Electricity arcing. Power gathering.
Dimly, she heard herself panting. Clinging to his shoulders, she arched back and spread her legs even wider, until her inner
thighs ached at the strain.
She wanted him so deep she’d still feel him in a month. So deep he’d never leave.
“Changed... my mind.” His gravelly words barely sounded human. “First time... inside you again. You’re... coming...
on my... cock.”
He licked his thumb and pressed it to her clit, and with each slap of flesh against flesh, the rough pad of that thumb rubbed
against her. Again and again and again, mercilessly.
He was thick inside her, hot beneath and around her, his hold inexorable, his thumb so fucking talented, and she let her eyes
flutter shut as the pleasure built and built within her.
She was panting harder now. Whimpering. The hand squeezing her ass disappeared, only to land firm and heavy on her nape. Using
his hold on her neck, he hauled her against his chest, so tight her breasts scraped against him with every ruthless stroke,
so tight she could barely breathe, and he claimed her mouth in a bruising, unapologetically carnal kiss.
His lips were greedy, his tongue demanding immediate entry. When she opened to him, he sucked her own tongue inside his mouth,
and he tasted like sweat and mint and pussy.
Then he wrapped her ponytail around his fist and tugged hard.
Without warning, she convulsed again, her body racked with pleasure and clenched tight around his plunging dick, and he swallowed
the breathy cry from her lips.
“Thank”—he groaned into her mouth—“ fuck .”
While she was still shuddering, he gave one last violent buck of his hips, ripped his mouth from hers, and shouted hoarsely as he finally came, the same strangled word ripped from his throat over and over again as he shook in her arms.
One word. Her name.
It sounded like a prayer.
Late that night, after they’d had dinner, made love for a second time, and showered together, Maria pulled the bedcovers over
both of them and flopped down on his chest.
He wheezed for a moment. “Holy shit, woman.”
“You’re tough.” She patted one broad pec, then played with some of his dark hair there. “Suck it up, skitstovel .”
After shaking his head at her, he twisted a bit to reach the bedside lamp and turned it off. “Cruelty, thy name is Maria.”
They hadn’t actually discussed whether they’d sleep in the same bed. They’d simply... not separated. Even though Maria
hadn’t spent an entire night with a lover since discovering her ex’s other life in London.
It was a fool’s act. Until she knew for certain he could commit to her the way she needed, she should maintain a healthy emotional
distance. Keep the sex purely physical. Watch and wait and evaluate.
In the end, though, it hadn’t been so much a conscious decision as an instinct. A visceral urge to huddle against his warmth
and allow him to see her vulnerable in sleep, a sudden certainty that pushing him away would feel wrong . Obeying that reflexive conviction, she’d followed him to his bedroom, to his bed, without a word of protest.
And that was a fool’s defense, making a dangerous choice and declaring it unthinking. Inevitable. Out of her control, so what could she do, really? What could she do but open herself up to someone else whose intentions she didn’t entirely trust, much as she cared for him?
What could she do but offer him another piece of her heart to break?
She shifted uneasily, sliding off his chest to reach the other side of the huge bed, where her own pillow awaited, comfortable
and cold.
His thick arm closed around her waist and tugged her back.
“Where are you going?” Rolling onto his side, he wrapped her tight in his embrace. “I was just joking, sweetheart. I like
having you sprawled on top of me. You know that, right?”
He’d thrown one heavy thigh over her legs, so she couldn’t move away. Not unless she told him to let her go.
She didn’t.
“I know,” she said, and pressed her ear against his chest, right over his heart.
It thumped steadily, each beat strong. As she listened, her breathing steadied, the metallic taste in her mouth melting back
to mint.