Chapter 26 #2
There was no Anastasia Chernyshevsky tonight.
No Ana Quinn, the FBI agent.
Just the redheaded, sexual goddess that A.J. brought out of her. A woman who wasn’t above begging him to make her body writhe with his touch and stars explode in her vision while luxuriating in the best orgasms of her life.
“Look at me.” She lifted her eyes, unable to deny him anything at the moment. “Tell me, one more time. Tell me what you really want.” His tone was gentle but commanding. He was talking about more than sex, wasn’t he?
She cradled his cheeks between her palms. “I want you,” she admitted. “All of you.”
He slanted his mouth over hers with a crushing kiss that she was certain was also a freeing one for the both of them. It was a kiss that allowed him to move on from whatever else may have been holding him back, same as her.
She sank to the plush carpet moments later, not needing a bed or anything other than him.
“On top of me,” he rasped. “With the hat.”
She sat up, grabbed the hat, and secured it on her head, then waited for him to get on his back. Sex with me on top. Yes, oh yes, yes, yes. What’s that saying? Save a horse, ride a cowboy? She understood it now more than ever.
But this wasn’t just sex, and they both knew it.
Once she’d straddled him, her knees sinking into the soft carpet, he leaned up on his forearms and eyed her pussy as she positioned the tip of his cock to her opening. The sight of him watching as their bodies connected was as erotic as it got for her.
She lowered her gaze and clenched her teeth, worried his thickness would hurt, at least initially.
It had been a long time since she’d had sex.
But she guided him inch by inch. Taking her time.
And A.J. looked as though he might die. Ana knew it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to grab her hips and take control.
To penetrate her hard and fast. But he was letting her set the pace.
Letting her choose how and when to lose the control she’d spent years trying to maintain.
Let go. Now. And with those words echoing in her mind, Ana sank down and took all of him. A.J. cursed under his breath as her palms landed on his chest and she adjusted her position, then began rocking. Moving up and down. Experimenting. Any and every which way felt phenomenal.
She leaned forward, sliding her hands alongside his muscular arms to bring her lips over his. He groaned against her mouth as she raised her bottom up and down in small motions.
“Ana,” he said through gritted teeth.
He gripped her sides, digging his fingers into her flesh as he thrust with her, their bodies in a rhythmic dance. She eased to an upright position again to admire his carved muscles, to trace her finger over the lines of his V, the sex lines.
He palmed her small tits as they bounced. Perfect handfuls for him. She gyrated and moved, and her body tensed as the impending orgasm mounted and built.
It was too soon. She didn’t want to come yet.
But there was more time.
There would be more time for them, right?
As desire consumed her, Ana began moving faster, grinding against him, losing control. “Oh, oh, oh.” While her little sounds grew louder and louder, A.J. brought his hands to her hips to steady her.
“Let go, sugar. Let go.”
Ana tipped her head back and cried out a guttural moan, which was quickly followed by the feel of A.J.’s cock pulsating inside of her.
She collapsed onto his chest, her energy totally spent. The muscles in her thighs deliciously sore already from holding the position. “That was incredible.”
He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lip, a taste of saltiness there when her tongue peeked out of her mouth. “More than incredible. And I think we need to do it again.”
“No,” she said with a firm shake of the head. “There is no ‘I think’—we must do it again. And with you behind me. On top. Every which way.”
A light rumble of laughter broke from his chest. “You’re my kind of woman.”
I am, aren’t I? she thought with pride before folding her arms on his chest, resting her chin on her hands.
“A.J., what the fuck!” A deep, roaring voice had A.J. flipping Ana to her side and off of him.
Twice in one day, but this time, it wasn’t his mom.
Tremors of embarrassment rocked through her body as she stole a glimpse of a man in uniform, his eyes closed, head turned to the side.
“Beckett, what are you doing here? Don’t you knock?” A.J. grabbed her pile of discarded clothes and handed it to her, then picked up his cowboy hat and stood, using it like a fig leaf to cover himself.
Ana quickly put on her dress, sans underwear, and backed against the window out of sheer horror that A.J.’s older brother—the freaking sheriff, and McKenna’s father—had caught her butt naked on top of A.J.
“You can open your eyes,” A.J. said once Ana was covered, but he hadn’t taken the time to do anything other than protect his condom-wrapped dick with his hat.
Now that hat would never look the same.
Beckett slowly opened his eyes and scoffed.
“I can see your naked ass in the window’s reflection.
” He shook his head, grabbed A.J.’s jeans from the floor, and tossed them his way.
“I’m betting your phone must be on silent—for obvious reasons—but it’s probably been ringing nonstop.
” He turned his back so A.J. could pull on his jeans.
Not so easy. Condom had to be dealt with first. “One sec.” He removed and tied off the condom, then hid the thing before pulling on his jeans.
Oh, jeez. She was going to die of humiliation.
“I don’t know what happened.” A.J. snatched his phone from his pocket. “Jesse must’ve put my phone on silent,” he mumbled, probably assuming his friend had snuck the ringer off to give A.J. “alone time” with Ana. “Ten missed calls. Fuck.”
“What’s going on?” Ana worked her hands down the dress, attempting to find a few buttons that’d survived A.J.’s urgent hands earlier.
Beckett faced him, drawing a hand over his beard. “Ms. Anastasia Quinn, aka Anastasia Chernyshevsky, can you tell me why I shouldn’t arrest you since you’re now on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?”