But she took over before he could act on the thought. Gently pushing him down onto the leather couch, she straddled his body. With painstaking care, she opened his shirt so she could touch his bare skin, stroke his chest, massage his undamaged shoulder.
Then, after rolling the condom over his erection, she planted her fists on either side of his head and moved her body against him, grazing his chest with her breasts and rubbing the cleft of her sex against his penis.
He groaned. “God, woman, you’re killing me.”
“I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this.” With little love bites, she nipped at his mouth, his jaw, his neck.
“Please, just let me … ” He touched her, felt how ready she was for him. Stroking her, inserting his fingers into the wet center of her, he tried to position his hips so he could enter her but she wouldn’t let him.
“Not yet. Just kissing now.” This time, however, when she moved to kiss him, he guided himself into her. She gasped, pushed his good arm back over his head. “I thought I was in charge here,” she said.
“Okay, baby, you be in charge. What do you want?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“This. Just this.” She began to move her hips slowly and deliberately. He let her set the rhythm at first. Sipping and licking her way from his mouth to his neck and back up again, she eluded his attempts to change the pace, to hold her close, pushing away his arm when he tried to pin her, to keep her close to him. When he swore under his breath in frustration, she just laughed.
Finally, he ended her game by corralling her with his casted arm and holding her to him. His mouth took possession of hers; his tongue played sexy games. With his cock deep inside her, thrusting harder and faster, she came in a shuddering climax and so did he.
When they returned to earth, he snuggled her against him, kissing her damp forehead.
“I’ve never made love in the living room before,” she said, when her breathing calmed.
“Sex on the nearest horizontal surface with half your clothes on isn’t what I’d call making love,” he said as he gave her breasts one last caress and pulled down her sweater, which had bunched up around her neck.
She returned the favor, readjusting his shirt. “And what would you call it, cowboy?”
“I think you know.”
“You want to hear me say the word, don’t you?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say it, have I?”
“Probably not.” She waited for him to change his mind but he was apparently not going to back off. “Okay, it’s fucking. Sex on the couch with us half dressed is fucking. Happy?”
He kissed her cheek, his grin so broad he thought his face would crack. “Yeah, I’m happy but not because of that. I’m happy because I love you, because we’re … ”
“Hey, stop that.” She was laughing.
“Stop what? Telling you I love you? Don’t you like hearing it?”
“No … I mean, yes, I like hearing it. I didn’t mean you should stop. I meant Chihuly should stop. He’s licking my toes and it tickles. What do you call sex on the couch with a dog licking your foot?”