“Better access this way. More efficient.”
“Indeed.” He took full advantage, sliding his hand under her knee, and up and around, almost too slow. She bent her leg to see if she could make his hand slide faster.
“In a hurry, Miss Reed?”
“Only for you, Mr. Kurck.”
“I think we should go over your very nice penguin sketches first, then.”
“I’ll show you some sketches.”
He let her push him down, laughing. She lifted her skirt and straddled him, forgetting to take care of the pants again, but at least now there were only three layers of clothing between them. Or two.
“No, I’m not commando.” She must have frowned, for he laughed again, bouncing her up and down a little. She liked that feeling. She wanted more.
But he wanted sketches, did he? She ran her hands through all his shirt’s stupid buttons and pushed it away. Spreading her hands wide, she pulled her fingers gently down his taut chest, shoulders to hips. Then she did it again, nails down, marking little furrows down him. Marking him. Mine.
She leaned in and traced the lines, already disappearing with her tongue, taking little diversions when she came across a nipple. He sucked in a breath, and she glanced up at his face. She wiggled her hips, her panties warm and right over his bulging need. He groaned.
“Slow enough for you, Mr. Kurck?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Such a sweet talker.” She lifted her arms, settling deep into his seat, and unhooked the halter top part of her dress. He smiled and reached for the fabric. But he didn’t stop there, but reached around to the fastening at the back of her skirt. Freeing it, he swept the skirt fabric up and off her, over her head. He tossed it onto his chair, behind them.
“I like dresses that don’t need bras.” Bringing his hand back, he splayed it on her back and pushed her forward. Tilting his head up, he flicked her nipple as she had his. She lifted up involuntarily, and he pushed her forward until he had a whole mouthful of her breast. For once she didn’t feel too small, but perfect. Just right.
She slid her hands between them, undoing the button and zipper of his khakis. He took her other breast in his hand, and she smiled. A boxers man, just as she’d suspected.
But he wasn’t being as cooperative as he was this morning. He kept his hips pinned to the floor, even as she’d lifted up to give him room. She leaned forward and took his mouth, matching his tongue’s circling of her tightly ruched nipple. His breathing was heavy, and his eyes closed. She scooted her hips up, and quickly reached behind her down his hips, inside the roomy boxers, and slid him free.
His eyes popped open in surprise. “You distracted me.”
“Fair’s fair,” she said, quickly dispensing with her own bikini briefs. She felt deliciously wet, and wanton, and so, so ready.
“Use your words, Miss May.”
“I want you in me, now, deep, and deep, and deep.”
He pulled her head toward his and kissed her long, and deep. But it wasn’t the deep she wanted. “In the jeans. Back pocket.”
She pivoted and rummaged and found a strip of three condoms. “Only three?”
“For now. Are you sure you’re ready?”
How could he even ask? She was drenching his crotch with her readiness even now. She ripped a packet open and popped the condom in his mouth. His expression was priceless. “Softens it up,” she said.
She dipped down and used her tongue to scoop the now soggy condom back. Now it was easy to unroll over him, even as big as he was, and most eager, bounding forward and back like it was seeking her out. Which, thank her lucky stars, it was.
She lifted up to position herself over him, and he propped a hand behind her. “Slow. I want to feel every millimeter.”
She did, too, though he had to remind her twice by squeezing her butt to do so. As he entered, the muscles of her vagina clenched, and loosened, and clenched again, waves of marvelous tension and relaxation bathing her senses, winding her up even tighter. Then the fullness of him, slow, slow, into her. She jumped when he slid past her G-spot, and he smiled. “So noted,” he said, his voice whispering past his heavy breathing. Now both his hands were on her hips, not so much guiding as holding on for dear life.
She loved this sense of power. Her old boyfriend hated having her on top, so they rarely did it.
Beau was half in her now, and she was in balance. She gripped his shoulders, kneading them. Her thumbs moved down, and flicked his taut nipples.
He bucked so hard he would have impaled her, but his hands kept their hips at the same distance. May felt a twinge of disappointment. Next time, maybe.
Slowly, slowly, she settled on him. He lifted a hand to her breast, kneading so softly. Slowly, slowly, she couldn’t stand much more. His hand slid up her chest, up her neck, his fingers reaching her lips. She sucked them in, hard. It was harder to squirm in this position, but she was managing it.