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Hot and Bothered(57)

By:Serena Bell


                * * *

                DESPITE WHAT LYN had done to him, he’d never seen sex as a power game. Sex, especially since Lyn, had been a convenience, a way of forgetting. A way of leaving the things he didn’t want to think about for a realm where thought was inconvenient and unnecessary.

                But between Haven’s legs he felt powerful. Hearing the slick, wet sound of her as he moved the head of his cock over her clit, feeling her tipped-up hips pleading with his body to deliver on its promise. And his name on her lips, that please like a chant, like a mantra. He felt invincible.

                “What do you want?” he asked.

                She licked her lips, closed her eyes and lifted her hips higher, trying to engage.

                He resisted for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this perfect, on-the-edge feeling.

                “You’re killing me,” she whispered.

                He braced himself on his arms, fitted himself to her without needing a hand to guide him, and gave her the head of his cock. Her heat enveloped him, squeezing him, and his balls drew up tight.

                It was too much. He couldn’t hold back. He thrust into her abruptly, and she exhaled, a deep half-moan on her lips as she grabbed his ass and pulled him in close.

                “Oh,” she said. Just that. Oh.

                He wanted to stay where he was, pressed up against her where she needed him. He wanted to do this for her, let her keep wriggling against him, making little needy, whimpering noises, digging her fingernails into his back and her teeth into his shoulder. He wanted her to come for the fourth time, but he was too far gone. His abs contracted and his hips thrust forward, driving him into her, drawing him back so he could get more—more power, more length, more stroke, more Haven, more, more, more.

                And far from complaining, she was crying out her pleasure at the pinnacle of each plunge, his name, please, more, oh, I’m coming again, and he wasn’t sure he’d given her the three minutes he’d promised her, but there was no helping it now, tension gathering in every muscle in his body, in the curl of his toes and the kinks in his fingers and the strain in his neck, coalescing into something pinpoint small and infinitely big, exploding outward and collapsing inward at the same moment.

                He barely had enough of his wits about him to disengage and rescue the condom before he collapsed limply beside her.

                She rolled to her side and draped her arm and half her body over him, rested her cheek against his damp chest and sighed contentedly.

                Of all of it, of everything, it was that sigh that undid him. Her little exhalation was yielding, was release. He’d made Haven come spectacularly, over and over. He’d made her do things she’d never done before. She’d pushed him beyond his own controls.

                But it was the way she willingly put her clean cheek to his sweaty skin and gave herself over to him that choked him up.

                And terrified him.

                What happens now?

                He stroked her hair and listened as her breathing evened and slowed until he was pretty sure she was asleep.

                He tried to imagine it. Haven waking up and smiling at him. Telling him, That was amazing. Let’s do it again.

                They’d do it again, Haven just as wild and uninhibited.

                They’d order takeout and sit up in her bed—