Chapter Twenty
Anna
I stay in his lap as he drives us home. It’s dangerous but neither of us is thinking very clearly now. It’s not an option to move off him, to let him go. Drew’s arm remains wrapped around my waist, his big hand clamped on my hip as if he’s afraid I might change my mind, try to escape.
I don’t. I won’t. I’m too far gone now. I’m weak and needy for him. So he drives, and my head rests on his shoulder as my fingers trace his neck, touch the spot where his pulse is a rapid tattoo. He holds me tighter, presses his cheek against the top of my head, as he maneuvers the car down darkened neighborhood streets.
His heart beats as fast as my own. We’re almost humming with anxious anticipation. If we don’t get there soon, I know he’ll pull over and take me in the back seat, cramped or not. I almost make the suggestion, I’m so achy for him, but the car swerves into a driveway and then lurches to a halt.
He’s got the car turned off and the parking brake on in seconds. The door wrenches open, and somehow, we’re out. I’m in his arms. I don’t even know how he’s accomplished swinging both himself and my body weight out of the car with such ease, nor do I protest that he’s carrying me. I’m pretty sure if he puts me down right now, we’d both fall.
His house is a small Craftsman-style bungalow with a peaked roof that creates a wide front porch. Drew makes short work of the front steps. I burrow my nose into his neck and cling with my legs around his waist as he fumbles with his keys before the glass-pained door. Then we’re stumbling inside.
I get a glimpse of white walls, high ceilings, and dark floors. A retro ’30s metal dome table lamp casts a warm haze over a leather couch and chair and teak credenza. This isn’t a college guy’s hangout. It’s a home. Framed and matted photos hang from the walls. That’s all I see of it. Drew captures my mouth with his once more, his grip on my ass tight and sure as he strides across the room.
His room is cool, quiet, the mellow glow of another table lamp limning everything in golden light. Drew sets me down at the foot of his bed before attacking my buttons, his fingers fumbling and desperate, his mouth never leaving mine.
My knuckles press into his abdomen as I rip open his jeans, shoving them down in my haste. The waistband of his boxer briefs snags over his hard cock, and he curses. He frees himself then reaches for me. Everything becomes a blur of flying, discarded clothes and messy kisses. And then the world lifts away. In his arms one second, and sinking into a cool, thick down comforter the next.
Drew climbs over me. Hot, smooth skin slides over mine. Hard muscles. Heavy, dense flesh. And everywhere he touches, I ignite.
We don’t stop kissing. I don’t think I’m capable of stopping. I’m starved for his mouth.
He moves between my legs, and I tilt my hips to give him better access. Now. I want him now. Hard. Fast. But suddenly he slows us down, suckling my lower lip before he raises his head. Arms bracketing me, he looks into my eyes, his fingers playing with my hair.
His lids lower a fraction, but he doesn’t close his eyes. “Every night,” he says. “Every single night I’ve thought about you being here. Just like this.”
I shiver. Every single night I’ve feared being here. Like this. Because I wanted it so very much.
Skin to skin, we lie, trembling and sweating. Between our pressed bellies, his cock throbs hot and firm. I struggle to breathe. My palms skim over his narrow, tight waist. “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do to me?”
Drew’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile. “Keep you here.”
Promise?
Just when I fear emotion might cripple me, he moves, canting his hips until the rounded tip of his cock nudges against my opening. My attention zeroes in on it, that spot where everything has gone so hot and needy that my sex clenches. Holding my gaze, he slides the tip in. Then the bastard stills.
“Drew.” Squirming, I try to take more.
He only smiles and holds steady, a solid plank of unyielding muscle. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.” Every substantial inch. But that’s not what he’s asking, and we both know it.
“All of me?” His expression turns serious, his voice a ghost in the silence. Oh, but he rocks his hips, pushing in just a bit more, an inducement designed to make me come apart. “Do you want all of me, Anna?”
I can feel my heart beating against his. Twin steady, quick thrums that match pace. I could lie and say no. Retreat to safety. And it would end the best thing that has ever happened to me. With a shaking hand, I reach out and skim my fingers along the damp hair at his temple. “Yes.”
He swallows audibly, his body trembling with something that feels like relief against my skin. “Glad we’ve got that settled.” He moves to thrust but halts again. This time with a curse that mingles with mine.
“Now you’re just being cruel,” I wail.
“I’m not... Fuck.” He pants. “I left the condoms in the car.”
“In the car?” I squirm, barely able to think. “What the hell are they doing in there?”
His breath gusts over my cheeks on a pained laugh. “It’s not like I need them in here, Jones.” He tilts his head and kisses me at a different angle, all open mouth and wet. When he talks again, it’s a thick whisper. “I’d have left them at your house, but it seemed presumptuous.”
God, I even love the way he murmurs presumptuous against my mouth. My lips vibrate with it, and I lick them, before licking his. I’m so hot, so turned on, I can’t stand it. I’m so empty it hurts. “Forget the condom,” I say in a strangled voice. “Just...just fuck me.”
A tremor lights over him, and I feel the head of his cock twitch. Honey-brown eyes stare down at me. “You sure?”
We both know it’s a matter of believing each other when we say we’re STI free, and trusting that we’re exclusive, of Drew trusting me when I say that I’m on the pill. Do I trust him? Yes. Am I nervous? Hell yes.
I swallow hard, resisting the temptation to move. “Unless you don’t want to?” I won’t hold it against him if he wants a condom. Never. I start to tell him that when he replies.
His answer is a kiss, a dirty-sexy, wet fuck of my mouth, as he thrusts his cock in deep. That thick invasion, it fills me up, makes me gasp.
“Holy hell.” He groans. “You feel so good.” And then he’s pumping, groaning low as he moves. My focus narrows to the smell of his skin, the feel of him pushing in and pulling out of my swollen sex, the near helpless sounds he makes with each thrust.
His thumb finds the tight bead of my nipple and rolls it. Combined with the way he licks along the inside of my upper lip, the simple action is almost indecent. It shakes me to the core.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp into his mouth.
An orgasm steals over me, not with violence, but a slow, swelling wash of heat that has me shivering and whimpering into his open mouth. I’m weak with it, my arms falling limp at my sides as it takes me.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my lips. “Let it ride.” He cups my cheek, his hand big, warm, solid, as he watches me come undone, his eyes burning.
Helpless, I grab hold of his hair, as another roll of sensation hits me.
“Drew. I...” I can’t breathe. “I need...”
You.
“I know,” he says as if hearing my silent plea. “I know.”
He captures my hand, forcing me to stay with him as he plucks my nipple and grinds his hips. I’m at the precipice when he loses control. A shudder runs over him and then he levers himself up on his arms and pounds into me. Flesh slaps against flesh. The impact makes my hipbones ache. I’m so wet, so messy wet, that every sound is magnified. And I love it.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he rasps, moving his hips with a swivel, raw and greedy, like he’s rutting against me, and my world goes dark and violent with lust. I’m coming again, the sensation punching into me, making me arch up, my hips chasing his, my hands clawing at the hard swells of his shoulders.
Drew lets go with a long, low groan, and a flood of warmth fills me up.
For a moment we lie quiet, Drew curled around me, his cheek against mine, the corners of our lips touching as we pant. Slowly, I come back to myself, aware of his fingers stroking my shoulder and the pulse of his cock within me.
It’s so quiet that when he whispers in my ear, my whole body shivers from the sound. “You’ve destroyed me, Anna Jones.”
I know exactly what he means, because he’s destroyed me too.