Chapter Sixteen #3
His gaze snapped to hers. “‘Good’ is nowhere close to good enough.”
“Okay, okay.” She curled her hand around the nape of his neck, bringing him back down for a sultry kiss.
Then she reached between them and guided his tip to her entrance. Scarcely breathing, she arched into him as he pressed in. Slow and gentle, and holy hell.
She was as wet and open as possible, thanks to his earlier efforts, but it was still a stretch. He took his time, moving deeper with every restrained thrust, until finally he was seated within her. The fullness drove the breath from her lungs, the pleasure almost too much.
“Tell me,” he begged again, rocking against her.
“This. This is good—great,” she corrected when he started to rebuke her again. She put her hand on his cheek and held him against her mouth. “You feel incredible.”
He shuddered, growling, eyes fluttering. “Not as incredible as you feel.”
She didn’t believe that for a second, but a hot rush of pride moved through her. Curling her legs around him, she rocked up into his strokes. Deep within, he was hitting a sweet symphony of nerve endings that had pleasure blooming within her once more.
“Can you?” he breathed, his tempo beginning to quicken.
“I don’t know—I usually don’t—”
“Fuck usually.” His face was red with effort, sweat beading at his temples, his muscles bulging as he braced himself over the top of her.
Everything felt so good—his thrusts smooth and long, and lighting her up inside. She reveled in the weight of his body and the pressure of his hips every time he drove home.
“Let me make you come again,” he breathed, and it was almost a plea. “Want to feel you—”
Her head spun. She wasn’t used to concentrating on her own satisfaction like this; honestly, she was more than happy to manage to climax even once.
But as she tried to will herself to another orgasm, the elusive edge of ecstasy retreated, and the more she chased it, the further away it seemed. “I don’t know—”
He growled, pushing into her faster and harder, driving himself and her to the brink. “Tell me what you want. What you need.” Closing his eyes, he pressed his brow to hers. “Show me.”
A little prickle of something that was both arousal and embarrassment tugged at her gut. “I—”
“Please,” he whispered, and he was so close to unraveling, so gorgeous as he was trying so hard to keep himself from falling apart.
With his fervent plea ringing in her ears, she pushed aside any shame to slip a hand between them. The first glancing brush of her fingertips against her clit was exactly what she needed. The retreating edge of pleasure snapped back into focus, and she moaned.
“So hot.” He kissed her mouth again, driving away any possible lingering embarrassment. “God, Emma—love feeling you—”
“Faster,” she begged. There was a part of her that was reluctant to ask for what she wanted, but he gave it to her with so much enthusiasm that her entire concept of what was happening here went up in smoke.
“That’s it.” Straightening his arms, he rose higher over the top of her, staring down at her with an intensity that burned in the best possible way. He got his knees under himself, changing the angle and getting the leverage to speed up even more and—
“Hunter—” She gasped, eyes flying wide, and then she was there.
Her orgasm crashed over her, and he groaned with relief, slamming his mouth into hers.
He drove in deep half a dozen more times, all the restraint within him snapping at once.
Still lost to the pleasure, she scraped her nails down his back, drinking in his moans.
He released inside her with a low cry, mouth going slack and eyes clenching tightly until his hips finally stilled.
Throbbing with aftershocks, she pulled him in. He collapsed over her, breathing heavily. She squeezed him with her internal muscles, and he laughed and shuddered before allowing his head to fall to the mattress beside hers.
She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and back. Even now, practically boneless, he was so careful with her, keeping most of his weight off her.
At last, he breathed in deeply. He pressed a soft, wet, messy kiss to her mouth before withdrawing and rolling off and onto his back. He got up just long enough to deal with the condom, then flopped down next to her again. Instinctively, she curled around him, her hand over his thundering heart.
Wrapping her up in his arms, he kissed the top of her head. “Wow.”
“I’ll say,” she agreed, but it felt too flippant for what they’d just shared.
She still didn’t know who or what they were to each other, but she’d never had sex like that before. She’d never been so connected, or felt so safe or adored.
A shiver trembled its way through her.
Mistaking her reaction for a sudden chill, he groaned and reached across her to snag the covers and drag them over them both.
And there was something about that kindness. That paying attention to the signals she was giving—even if he was interpreting them wrong.
She clenched her jaw shut tight, blinking furiously. But it was futile.
She hiccuped, and then burst into tears.