Inked in the Steel City Series(77)

There was so much force in her kiss that her lips would’ve crushed his if they hadn’t been so soft. As it was, they exerted cock-stirring pressure, bringing him to life in a way he couldn’t resist, couldn’t regret. Pulling her into his lap, he kissed her back, slipping his tongue deep into her mouth.

“Let me show you where you’ll be sleeping,” she said when their lips parted minutes later.

He went to her bedroom with her and didn’t have time to so much as glance at the prints hanging on the walls there before they were on the bed, tangled in each other’s arms. The words she’d spoken in the kitchen still rang in his ears, filling his mind with disbelief and his body with a desire so potent that time seemed to stop as he stripped her clothing off of her, revealing all the perfectly milky skin he’d been remembering so vividly for the past two days.

The world started turning again when she slid her hands beneath the hem of his t-shirt and unbuckled his belt, pulling his jeans down and wrapping her hands around his shaft. He sucked in a breath and reached for her.

Before he could make contact, she slipped her other hand into his pushed-down jeans, cradling his balls. That combined with the way she moved her hand up and down, from the base to the head of his dick, was enough to make him swear. Fuck, it had been hard to resist her, hard to tell her he wasn’t right for her. And now here he was, despite his efforts. He didn’t regret it. Not yet.

Finally wrapping his arms around her again, he pulled her close and kissed her hard before pulling off his disheveled clothing and throwing it all aside. Sinking down onto the mattress and lying chest-to-chest with nothing between their skins sent shivers of memory and expectation down his spine. Remembering what they’d done two days ago while anticipating what was about to happen … it was a combination that made his heart speed and his head spin as he kissed her, keeping his lips firmly against hers as he rolled on top of her.

He hadn’t meant to stop there, with his hips between her thighs and his cock pressing up against the slick folds between them. When he’d lowered himself onto her, his head had been filled with vivid notions of sliding down and pushing her legs farther apart with his hands, opening her wide enough that no part of her would be hidden from his mouth. But before he could move a muscle, she reached down and pressed a hand against each of his ass cheeks, curling her fingers and letting her nails bite.

He couldn’t resist her pulling him in, insistent as she tightened her grip, breathing a sigh. Not when he could feel the heat and wetness of her pussy against the head of his dick. With a moan, he flexed his hips, pushing past her folds and into the tight embrace of her body.

In one split second, he noticed and reveled in everything – the pulsing hitch her internal muscles gave when he pushed in to the root, the way she gripped him even harder, nails digging into the crease between his ass cheeks and his thighs, making his skin sting, and the way she exhaled against him, her breath warming his shoulder. All of it was enough to push him instantly to the edge, but she was so irresistible that he was torn between the urges to come and to stay inside her forever.

She rolled her hips, pulling back a little and then sending him plunging deep into her. The motion sent the breath rushing out of his lungs and was almost enough to make him lose it completely, too. Instead, he clung to every last scrap of self-control he had and focused on the splay of her hair against the pillow.

There were a dozen different shades of red and brown, and as she moved, they rippled beneath the overhead light, changing. He studied the light and shadow, the brilliant reds, and even thought about how he’d translate the shades and texture into a tattoo. He stopped when he sensed himself pulling back from the edge, back into a state where it was safe to enjoy every blistering second spent inside her body, undistracted.

She kept rocking her hips as he thrust, gripping a fistful of sheet as they moved to the same rhythm. Even their breathing seemed to be in sync – she exhaled hard and fast, as he did, and the sounds of breath and breathlessness blended with the faint banging of the mattress against the headboard. The symphony sent bolts of heat down his spine and into his groin, but he craved more. He thrust harder and faster, until she lost her rhythm and arched beneath him instead, breathing several wordless cries and then his name.

His name. The sound of it on her lips had his balls tight against his body, his dick aching for release inside her. He kept rocking into her, refusing to ease his rhythm until she reached climax. She was close; that was evident in the way she kept arching and squeezed her eyes shut as her lips moved, soundless now.