Hard and Fast(22)

"I like that you get nice and wet," he said. "It's very satisfying to see it, to feel it, to taste it. It means you want me."

"I do want you."

"Slide down the wall," he said. "Still holding the doorframe. Just slide  down, nice and sexy, and spread your knees apart while you do."

She realized then part of the appeal of Ty's directives. Imogen had  never felt particularly sexy, had never known how to use her body to  visual advantage, had never felt comfortable posing and displaying  herself.

Ty was teaching her, probably without even realizing it, how to do just  that. How to take advantage of both the tactile and the visual appeal of  her feminine shape and intimate places to drive a man deeper into  desire.

So she followed his instructions and bent her legs so that her bare  bottom and back slid down the cool wall, holding on to the door for  balance. When she was down about halfway, she took a deep breath and  opened her knees, exposing herself fully to his view, watching to see  his reaction.

It was a good one.

His eyes darkened and he rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb as he  drank her in, not looking at her face, but between her legs. He put his  hands lightly on her knees and gazed up at her with a look so intense,  so hot, that she sucked in her breath.

"I hope you're flexible."

Wondering what he had in mind for her, fairly certain she would like it, Imogen still had to admit,

"Probably not."

"We'll work it out." Ty lifted one of her legs. "Hold on." He placed it over his shoulder so that her knee hooked him.

The shift shot her butt up in the air and threw off her balance. "I'm going to fall," she said, grappling at the doorframe.

"No, you're not. I'm too close to the wall for you to fall. Stop wiggling and relax."

"I'm not . . . ahhh." Imogen forgot what she had been about to say when  he bent forward and deftly inserted his tongue inside her. "Oh, my God."

He moved in and out, quick, swordlike thrusts that had her making sounds  she hadn't even known she was capable of. The soft moistness of his  tongue, coupled with its width, tripped off shudders of ecstasy with  each stroke. She could feel him so acutely inside her, his nose bumping  against her clitoris.

Ty lifted her other leg up, so they were both on his shoulders. His  hands were on the small of her back, and somehow between the wall and  his grip, she didn't seem to be in any danger of slipping down and  smacking her head on the floor. Not that she really cared, because it  was the hottest, most erotic position she had ever been in. It was kind  of like riding on someone's shoulders in reverse. The only way she could  be more fully enveloping his face would be if she were sitting on it,  and that would not have the added bonus of knowing it was his strength  holding her up. Imogen turned her head side to side, held on, and let  him do the most delicious things to her with his mouth while she  regressed to a time before language, expressing her pleasure through  whimpers and guttural groans.

There was no time, no awareness of the room, cold or hot, dark or light,  just the feel of him and her taut, overstimulated body. There was just  him, just his mouth, his hands, his breathing, his ability to strip away  all her thoughts until she was empty except for the acute pleasure, all  her focus on one spot, one spot only. The tightness was building in her  again and she quieted down, feeling it sneaking up on her, wanting to  reach for it, wanting to fall over into that explosion, but Ty pulled  away abruptly and eased her legs to the ground.

She blinked at him. Holy shit. He had done it again, and she couldn't tell if it was intentional or not. "I





was about to come."

"I know." He reached for her hand and stood up. "Come here. Wrap your legs around my waist."

"I can't. My legs don't work." She wasn't lying. Her entire body felt  boneless, and her calves were shaking from the strain they'd been placed  under. Her inner thighs pulsed and ached in incompletion.

He didn't bother to argue with her. He just swung her up into his arms  with more urgency than gentleness and marched over to the bed. Imogen  held on with what little strength she had left while he leaned over and  yanked off the duvet one-handed, revealing cocoa-colored sheets, which  he deposited her on. She was on her back, sideways on the bed, and he  grabbed her knees and yanked her down so that her legs dangled over the  side. He stepped in between her knees and pushed inside her.                       
       
           



       

She loved that moment of first impact, when a man entered her and her  entire body moaned and sighed and accepted him, and with Ty, it was even  more so. It was primal, possessive, the way he gave that hard thrust,  his arms on either side of her, his expression fierce and urgent. Ty was  quiet, his lips tightly pressed together, but Imogen couldn't contain  her pleasure as he filled her with steady strokes, and she moaned,  letting her legs fall farther apart. Wrapping her arms around him, she  rested her hands on his back and felt the movement of his muscles as he  worked hard pumping in and out of her.

Then he shifted slightly and hit a spot that had her soft caresses  turning into hard, nail-scraping grabs as she held her hands in place.  Each time he withdrew, his body moved back as well, sending his back  into her grip, and she knew she was tearing up his skin, but she didn't  care. There should be evidence tomorrow, scratches and bruises to show  how hot and hard they had come together. "Oh, yes, right there," she  moaned.

"You like that?" he asked, staring down at her with satisfaction.

"Yes. Oh, God, yes, please. Please." He had found an angle that nudged  her G spot, and Imogen almost forgot to breathe as he hit her over and  over.

She could feel the fullness of him, feel the throb, his growing loss of  control, and she raised her hips, anticipating both her orgasm and his.  But Ty yanked back all the way out of her, panting, and dropped his  mouth to her. Imogen didn't even have time to protest before she was  caught by the current and dragged under to the different kind of ecstasy  his tongue offered. Raising her arms over her head, she gripped the  sheet and squirmed as he tortured her with long licks over her clitoris.  It was almost too much, her body sensitive and taut, her legs moving  restlessly, feet finding the bed rail to rest on for a better grip, a  way to hold herself in place, to ground her under his assault.

When he sucked her clitoris, she arched up off the bed, a gasp flying  out of her mouth, but Ty didn't let her stay up. With his hand on her  chest, he pushed her back down, moved up, and entered her again.

"Ohmigod," she managed, before she lost the ability to speak.

Then there was nothing, no thought, no words, no anything but the feel  of him deep inside her, taking her, their bodies colliding and slapping.  Imogen's own excitement grew hotter still when Ty broke his silence and  began to let out a grunt of pleasure with each stroke. It was a  thrilling, satisfying sound and she dug her nails deeper into his back,  needing to hold on, needing to feel him.

Ty pulled out yet again, his movements fast and jerky, and Imogen sucked in her breath at the loss. "No, Ty! Please . . ."

His mouth was on her again and all the logic she had been born with, all  her ability to reason and rationalize, completely disappeared. She  disintegrated into an insensible, babbling mass of nerve endings, moan  after moan emerging as her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms  fell to the bed. She couldn't think, couldn't talk, could only enjoy an  ecstasy so acute it was nearly painful.

She didn't know if it was a minute or ten before he lifted his head, his  lips glistening with her arousal, and entered her again. This time, she  was too insane with want, too close. He stroked once and she felt it  rising inside her. When he stroked a second time, harder, her orgasm  burst, hot and explosive, from deep inside her, and she yelled out-a  warning, a triumph, she wasn't sure-but she wanted him to know that this  was it, this was the best orgasm she'd ever had. Ever. Ever, ever.

"That's it," he said, smoothing her hair off her forehead, then  clutching a handful hard enough that her head tilted. "Come for me,  babe."

"I am." She was. She liked the edgy roughness of his grip, the way he held his rhythm while her body





shuddered and convulsed under and around him. The pulse inside was tight  and strong, the volume, the intensity, the pleasure overwhelming and  wonderful and satiating all at once.

But the best moment of all came while she was still feeling the last  vestiges of her own orgasm. She watched Ty as his eyes drifted  half-closed, his mouth opened, his erection paused inside her, pulsing,  then his orgasm joined hers, his shouts mingling with hers, their bodies  tight and connected in shuddering, mind-shattering passion.