Chapter 9 #2
She rode her orgasm like she did everything, with raw honesty and fierce abandon. No performance, no holding back. Watching this strong, capable woman come apart beneath his touch was the hottest moment of his life.
Her body gradually calmed against his hand, and as she melted back onto the bed, he claimed her mouth again, hungry for more.
Their tongues dueled in a heated dance, but as he rolled toward her to climb on top, she pushed against his shoulders with surprising strength, forcing him to lie back on the bed.
The sudden role reversal sent a fresh surge of heat through him.
As he squeezed one of her spectacular breasts, feeling its perfect weight in his palm, she kissed the curve of his neck, and her lips and teeth found a spot that sent electric shivers racing up his scalp.
She shifted her body higher, deliberately thrusting her breast toward his mouth in an unmistakable demand.
Loving her take-charge attitude, he curved his hand under the soft weight of her breast, lifting it slightly, and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She gasped and her body bucked against him in response, so he sucked harder and curled his tongue over her hardened peak.
The taste of her skin drove him wild as he sucked and licked, and flicked his tongue over her nipple, feeling her bud harden.
Every reaction and tiny sound she made was like fuel to a fire already burning out of control.
She wrapped her hand around his cock, her fingers sliding over his heated skin with a confidence that stole his breath.
She stroked him, once, twice, three times, and her grip was firm but gentle, learning the shape and feel of him.
His hips jerked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more pressure.
“Christ,” he groaned. It had been so damn long since he’d felt a woman’s touch, and the sensation of her hand on him was almost unbearable. His cock was already rock hard, throbbing against her palm, a drop of moisture beading at the tip.
“You feel incredible,” she whispered, her voice husky as her thumb circled his sensitive head, spreading the wetness down his shaft. The simple touch was driving him wild, pushing him dangerously close to the edge way too soon.
With a growl low in his throat, he caught her wrist and flipped her onto her back. Her surprised gasp turned to a moan as he settled between her thighs, raising one of her knees to open her wider. He positioned himself at her entrance, the tip of his cock sliding against her slick heat.
“I want to see you,” he said, his voice rough with need as he braced himself above her. “Want to watch your expressions when I’m inside you.”
Her eyes locked with his as he pushed forward, entering her with agonizing slowness that took every ounce of his control.
The sensation was overwhelming, hot, tight, absolutely perfect.
He had to pause halfway, struggling to maintain control.
Her expression shifted from anticipation to pleasure, her lips parting on a silent moan as he finally seated himself fully inside her.
He began to move, establishing a rhythm that had her pressing her hands against his chest, fingers splaying across his skin before dropping to claw at the sheets beside her. Her mouth fell open, eyes glazing over as he increased his pace, driving deeper with each thrust.
“God, yes.” She gasped, her body arching beneath him. “Right there.”
He angled his hips, hitting the spot that made her thighs tremble against him. Her inner muscles tightened, tremors of her approaching climax rippling around him. The sight of this fierce, independent woman coming undone beneath him was almost too much to bear.
“More,” she whispered, though not a plea but a command.
He obliged. She was strong and wild beneath him, all lean muscle, taking as much as she gave. No soft moans or whispered names, just heat and digging fingernails. They found a rhythm, moving as one.
When she arched under him, back bowing, thighs tightening around his waist, and bit his shoulder to stifle a cry, he damn near lost control. His vision narrowed, blurred at the edges. The tension that had been building since their eyes first met snapped like a tripwire.
When she came, it was with a sharp cry that seemed torn from somewhere deep inside her.
Her body bowed off the bed, inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic waves as hot juices spilled between them.
The pulsing grip of her body and the raw abandon on her face pushed him past the point of no return.
With a hoarse shout, he followed her over the edge, his release tearing through him with an intensity that blinded him momentarily. He emptied himself inside her, hips jerking with each pulse, as the world narrowed to nothing but this moment, this woman.
He collapsed forward, bracing himself on trembling arms. Her mouth found the curve of his neck again, pressing a kiss there that left a mark that went deeper than skin.
That simple gesture crossed an invisible line, connecting them in some way.
The realization should have terrified him.
It was fucking absurd. He’d known her for less than twenty-four hours, and yet she had somehow slipped beneath his skin, into places he’d kept guarded for years.
For some wild, inexplicable reason, he wanted her there.
He rolled to her side, facing her as they caught their breath.
With her eyes still closed, she traced her fingers over his side and down his back, exploring the ridge of his shoulder blade with curious fingertips, as if trying to confirm he was real and not some fevered dream.
He watched her face in the half-light, studying the perfect slope of her nose, the fullness of her cherry lips, her dark lashes that flickered against her cheeks like she was processing a profound statement.
He wanted to ask what she was thinking, yet their comfortable silence was too perfect to break. It had been years since he'd let anyone this close. Longer still since it had meant anything beyond the physical. Since he'd felt this raw, this exposed. This vulnerable.
She didn’t roll away or rush to the bathroom, instead, she turned into him, tucking her head beneath his chin, fitting herself against him with a naturalness that made his chest ache. Like she didn’t just want him, but she couldn’t breathe without him.
As she settled against him, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, savoring the feel of her body against his. Her breathing gradually slowed and deepened. Her warmth against his body was better than any blanket.
For once, sleep came easily, without the ghosts that usually haunted his nights.
But as consciousness slipped away, one thought circled in his mind: tomorrow she might disappear just as suddenly as she’d appeared.
The prospect of Frankie walking away left a hollowness in his chest that no tactical training had ever prepared him to face.