Power and Possession(52)

“Better?”

His voice was husky, low.

Still trembling slightly, her mouth crammed full, she raised her lashes. “Amazing.”

Damn near as wired as she, he grunted softly as her reply drifted over the swollen crest of his dick. “Do that again. Talk.”

She took a deep breath. “Actinium, symbol Ac, atomic number 89, aluminum, symbol”—she felt his laugh, then his dick slid farther into her mouth as he flexed his hips. A second later, the pad of his finger ran over her G-spot with such finesse she almost begrudged him the experience required to gain that level of skill. But currently mesmerized by the shimmering enchantment lighting up her brain, jealousy issues faded into the ether.

Instead, the gloating pleasure flooding her body revived her earlier feelings of self-discovery and affection. He’s mine, she thought: his inked dick; his charming, difficult, exasperating character; his beautiful face; his tall, lean form; his mind and spirit.

Granted, her fulsome ardor may have been stirred by Rafe’s deft hands skillfully massaging her nipples and making her clit and G-spot smile. Or perhaps by his beautiful, enormous, cinnamon-flavored dick, which clearly demonstrated that size did matter.

Oh, God, oh God, of God. Her tightly wound-up G-spot bundle of nerves wildly quivered as Rafe dragged his finger over the sensitive flesh. Overprimed, about to combust, she didn’t hear Rafe’s low, tattered snarl.

He pushed deep into her mouth.

She started to gag.

“Fuck, sorry.” Jerking back, he stroked her cheek, nuzzling the solid feel of his dick with his fingertips. “Jesus—though, baby, that was—fucking extreme.” Shaking his head, he blinked himself back into the world, gently ran his finger over her top lip, which was stretched around his dick. “You okay?”

He felt her nod way more than he would have liked considering he should probably make amends if he ever wanted her to blow him again. “Why don’t I get you off first? How’d that be?”

She gave him a nice little suck he took as yes.

A second later, her clit and G-spot were being treated to the world’s most talented digits: two on her G-spot, his thumb on her clit, and as her orgasm started to swell through her sex, down her legs, up her spine, and then was turning her brain to mush, Rafe Contini, virtuoso lover of women who knew what he was doing and had for a decade or more, cupped Nicole’s chin in his free hand, held her head firmly, and, guarding against overzealous momentum, timed his climax to meet hers—exactly. He also saw to it that the glory lasted for them both till the absolute, mind-blowing, ride-off-into-the-sunset limit.

Quickly withdrawing, Rafe breathed a litany of, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” in a tight, brittle riff as he grabbed a towel, wiped Nicole’s mouth, and lowered her down on the bed. Half-dazed, his chest heaving, he raked his fingers through his hair, rested his hands on the top of his head, and waited for the debris from the violent explosion to clear from his brain. “Christ,” he said in a soft rush of air. Then he took a deep breath, dropped his hands, gazed at Nicole all flushed and fragile lying sprawled on his bed, and smiled so widely two rarely seen dimples were etched in his cheeks. “Want me to buy you Cartier? Just say the word, tiger, I’ll sic my lawyers on them.”

Eyes shut, she shook her head. “I’d buy it for you if I could. I almost died,” Nicole purred. “You are so-o-o fucking good.” Her eyes opened slowly, the pleasure glowing in the blue depths sunshine bright. “Thanks for giving me my turn first. I know why you’re in such demand. You’re chivalrous.”

He was wiping himself off; he looked up and gave her an eye roll.

“No?”

“Just you, tiger. You’re deconstructing my life”—he winked—“and I mean it in the nicest way.” He dropped a clean towel on her stomach. “Now move the fuck over. I have to rest a minute.” His smile was killer sweet. “But don’t go to sleep. I’m not done with you.”

“Oh goody.”

He was on top of her a second later, kissing the grin off her face. “Winning with you is going to be survival of the fittest, no shit,” he whispered, brushing a kiss along her cheek. “I feel like a fucking gladiator.”

“Does that mean I’m Wonder Woman? She kicks butt, you know.”

“You’re a wonder all right, but it’ll be a cold day in hell when you kick my butt. Just saying.” He rolled away, shoved a pillow behind his head, then turned and smiled. “You know somewhere down the line, it’s going to be my turn first.”

“Do I know that?”

“You will.” He leaned over and kissed her. “You won’t mind.”