Retribution(62)

“More,” she whispered, and his chest rumbled as he moved the moist satin aside and slid his fingers over bare flesh.

His lips left hers and trailed down her throat, and as he took one of her nipples into his teeth, two of his fingers dipped inside. The heavenly appendages curled as his thumb pressed and swirled, and like a cleansing flood, moisture rushed his fingers, washing away the world and all its troubles.

“More,” she gasped, desperate to stay lost in him, in his physical, mental and emotional bliss… his heaven.

His fingers slid away, taking her underwear with them, and as her nipple slipped from his lips, his erection emphatically filled her.

Her body quaked, her core a delightful mess of fluttering muscles and tingling nerve-endings, and her eyes popped open to his flexed neck and shoulder. Moving her mouth to his throat, she slid her palms to his hard pecs, and he grasped her butt, lifting it from the couch as he took her, his rhythm steady and powerful.

A hum rolled from her diaphragm and vibrated her lips, and the fire inside burned hotter. She was reaching another orgasm, her body a receptive pool of emotions and adrenaline, but she wasn’t ready to stop. If she came, he’d come. Then he’d have to stop and catch his breath. And she wasn’t ready to give up her rediscovered heaven, not yet.

“Don't stop…” she breathed, dipping her nails into his chest. “Please.” Then her plea flowed into broken moans as she fell over the edge.

He quietly growled into her hair as she came, but he didn’t stop, and the pounding on sensitive nerves was half torture, half divine. With every thrust, squeaks burst from her chest, and her skin twitched around convulsing muscles. The acute sensations were almost too much, and she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to endure them.

Apparently he noticed her struggle, because his movements slowed, but she quickly protested. “No, Quin… Please don't stop.”

He mumbled a few profanities as he throbbed inside her. Then he grasped a fistful of curls and picked up the pace.

“Yes...” she breathed. “Keep me there.”

“Damn.”

Tightening his grip on her hair, he tilted her head back, and she opened her eyes, finding his smoldering stare. His lips came down on hers, hard and hungry, and she reached her pinnacle again, moaning into his mouth while trembling around his manhood. He kept going, and her moan built into a scream as she drowned in a potent concoction of torment and rapture.

Near bursting with overwhelming sensations, she didn't know how much longer she could take the flames licking her tender and susceptible insides, so when she felt herself peaking again, she grasped his butt and pulled him deep inside, urging him to stay there.

Her muscles rolled and stretched as a wave of fulfillment crashed over her. Then her core rippled as more than mere tension rushed from her body. He left her mouth, his fist flexing in her hair, and the fingers dipping into her backside squeezed and pulled, forcing his arousal deeper as a string of profanities skipped from his tongue.

She felt him surge inside her, a sturdy dam reaching its breaking point, and his grip on her didn’t ease until his twitching did. His lungs emptied as the pressure ebbed, and the arm holding him up shook.

Running his hand up her spine, he pulled her to his chest. Then he sat up and leaned back, propping his head on the armrest while settling her weight on his torso.

Filled with more than physical relief and sexual indulgence, Layla floated in a sea of tingles as her heart soared. She’d been terrified she wouldn’t find her heaven again before the grim reaper tracked them down, a thought that scared her more than death. She'd found life in Quin. Not just in the emotional connections they shared, but in the physical connections as well. The two went hand in hand. She'd found her lungs and her heartbeat in him. She'd found herself in him, so without him, without the things he did for her, the words he said to her, the way he touched her, and the things he made her feel, she’d be breathless, heartless... lifeless, scraps ripe for Agro's dogs.

“I guess you're not angry with me,” she whispered, attempting to trace the contours of his pecs, but her flimsy muscles wouldn't allow it.

His lungs slowed as he peeked at her with one incredulous eye. “Why on earth would I be angry with you?”

“Well… because I was demanding and selfish, making you wait while I got mine. That wasn't very fair of me.”

“Layla, Layla, Layla. What am I going to do with you?” He took her by the waist and slid her up his torso, pulling himself from her body while laying her cheek on his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”

“What you just did to me was incredible,” he assured. “Hearing your demands shot my arousal and ego through the roof, and giving you what you want turns me on in ways that wouldn't make much sense to anyone else. I get a full-body high when I please you.”