Marriage of Inconvenience(Knitting in the City Book #7)(165)
She stroked.
I shuddered.
And then I sat the fuck down.
Her eyes on mine, she climbed on my lap, straddling me, her knees on either side of my hips, the friction of her breasts slick and hot against my skin.
I grabbed two handfuls of her ass, but not to guide her, oh no. Not that. She gripped me, stroking, her body open and hovering, but making no move.
“Do you like being teased?”
I grunted, my fingers digging into her hips, and tried to keep my voice even as I said, “Was I teasing you?”
Her eyes narrowed and she tilted my cock towards my stomach, treating it like a slip-n-slide for her clit.
“Oh fuck.” My head fell back, connected with the wall of the shower, and I lost my damn mind.
“You’re so sexy like this,” she echoed my earlier words, sucking on my neck, grinding against me. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me.”
“Nicely.”
“Fuck me nicely.”
She laughed, low and husky, but then she did.
She positioned herself above me. She slid down, taking me in, her breath catching, her eyelashes fluttering shut, her nails leaving new marks on my shoulders.
“Dan.”
“Kit-Kat.”
“I love you.”
“I fucking love you, too.”
She laughed, but then her forehead wrinkled as she set the pace, the slow, slow, slow pace.
A groan wrenched from me.
Sadist.
She was a sadist.
I’d married a sadist.
. . . I can deal with that.
Little sighs, little moans, little high-pitched cries of pleasure. But I didn’t want these sounds. I mean, yeah. They were sexy as hell. I liked them. A lot.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds she’d made when I’d eaten her out. The deep grunts, the cursing, like she was possessed, like she couldn’t hear herself, like nothing mattered and she didn’t care one fuck about anything but how great she felt in the moment.
Her lip had curled. I wanted to see her lip curl.
So I gave her a minute to do her thing, liking my view of her swaying tits in my face, equally hating and loving how slowly she was bouncing on my dick, and then I took over.
I stood and she held on. I carried her the short distance to the wall and used it as leverage, propping her up.
Now, can we just pause here and take a moment to appreciate how difficult this is? I mean, she’s on my lap, making me crazy, and I pick her up—with my cock still inside her—and carry Kat to the wall. I deserved a gold fucking medal for technique, and she deserved a platinum one for her balance and strength, ’cause I definitely wasn’t the only one making this happen.
Her eyes flew open and captured mine. I spread her wide and thrust, setting a quicker tempo, making sure every quick slide was friction where she needed it.
“Oh, Dan, oh, Dan, oh, Dan!”
It sounded like a cheer. Like she was a cheerleader. And us having sex was a super exciting touchdown pass.
Her body bowed, everything tense and tight, and she grunted, cussed, her lip curling. It wasn’t a pretty face, and it wasn’t tidy, or neat, or thoughtful, or controlled, or graceful.
But in this moment, it was a gorgeous, messy, perfect, inelegantly sexy face. It was her ‘O’ face and I loved it.
She pulsed, shuddered, shrieked as though possessed. Her hips moved instinctively, greedy, searching, demanding.
It was all I needed.
I’m not going to say I exploded inside her, because I pulled out and exploded against her stomach. Now I’m fully aware pulling out isn’t an effective form of birth control, but in our mindlessness to devour each other, it was the best we had. Clearly, she hadn’t been thinking about it.
But still, big fucking kaboom. The earth shook, the angels sang, the heavens opened. St. Pete tossed me a high-five. He might’ve winked—dirty old bird—and I might’ve also forgotten my name.
When I came to, Kat was wrapped around me. Legs around my hips, arms around my shoulders, head buried in my neck, and she was breathing like I was breathing. Like we were going to die.
And I had two thoughts:
One, I love her.
So I said, “I love you.” And I kissed her shoulder. Why her shoulder? I don’t know. I just really loved her shoulder. And her neck, chin, ears. Everything.
Two, I want to do it again.
So I asked, “We got any Gatorade?”
Chapter Thirty-Two
New drug research and approval facts (USA):
1) The overall success rate for drugs moving from early stage Phase I clinical trials to FDA approval is about one in 10 (10%).
—Reuters
2) The average drug can take anywhere from 8 - 18 years from pre-clinical (development) to clinical (phase 1, 2, and 3) to FDA approval.
3) The average cost to bring a drug to market: Phase 1 $15.2 million; Phase 2 $23.4 million; Phase 3 $86.5 million (total = $125.1 million)