"I am," he said hoarsely. "You have no idea."
"Oh, I can tell." She reached down to his straining c**k and took it in her hand. The length of him was rigid with arousal, the tip leaking beads of pr**cum. Her thumb found the wetness on the crown of him and rubbed it, circling on his skin. "All of this looks very hard and lonely to me."
"Lonely?" His voice was strained. His hands went to her hair and he dug his fingers into it, tilting her head back and kissing her mouth.
"It looks like it wants to go home," she told him playfully. "I know just the spot for it, too." Her hand wrapped fully around his girth and she pumped him. "Someplace warm, and wet, and snug . . ."
He groaned against her mouth.
"Best of all, he doesn't need a raincoat," she told him, and then nipped at his lip. "Sound like your kind of place?"
"It does."
Violet wrapped her legs around his h*ps and pulled him closer. They kissed, and she could taste her own desire on his lips. Her hands smoothed up and down his back, and he groaned again. "I love your touch."
"I love touching you," she admitted. His skin felt hot against her own, and he smelled like a mixture of sweat and musk and Jonathan, and she couldn't get enough of him. She leaned forward and sat up, her ni**les brushing against his chest, and sucked in a breath when he dragged her h*ps forward until her sex cradled his cock. Her body was pulled against his, and she sat on the edge of the bed while he stood, her limbs twined about him for support.
"I need to be inside you," he told her.
"I need you inside me," she countered, a faint smile playing on her lips. "What are you waiting for?"
His fingers curled in her hair and he tilted her head a little farther back, nipped at her mouth again, and then said, "I love you, Violet. With all my heart and soul."
And while her heart was fluttering at that intense, sincere admission, he pushed forward and seated himself deep inside her.
Violet gasped; she was always a little shocked at the feel of him when he pushed into her. The thickness of his cock, the sensation of him impaling her was always welcome but stunning. Today, it had the added sensation of his c**k being bareback; she imagined she could feel every vein in his c**k throbbing against her walls. "Oh, wow."
"God damn," Jonathan said hoarsely. "You without a rubber . . . Jesus."
"I know." Her hands caressed his chest. "I know."
"I'd forgotten how good it felt." He closed his eyes and pulled her tighter against him, burying his face in her neck. "I've never gone bare with anyone but you, you know."
"Really?" She swallowed. Why did that feel like such a meaningful thing?
"Really." His arms wrapped around her, holding her close, and then he gently lowered her backward onto the bed, dragging her forward as he climbed in with her. "You've been the only serious relationship I've ever had. The others were just . . . well, paid sex."
He'd mentioned that before, but it had never sunk in for her, not really. Now, the wonder of it truly hit her. There had never been anyone for him but her.
It was humbling.
Her hands smoothed over his shoulders. "Have I told you that I love you?"
He pulled back and then pushed into her with infinite slowness, her body still clasped against him with one arm, the other supporting his weight as he hovered over her. "You can tell me over and over again, and I will never tire of hearing it."
"That's good, because we have a lot of time to make up for," she told him in a soft voice. Her words broke off into a moan as he thrust into her again, so forcefully that their bodies slid up her sheets.
"I've heard make-up sex is the best."
She giggled at that, and her giggles turned into gasps when he began a steady rhythm, pounding into her with forceful thrusts. All lightheartedness left and she clung to him, digging her nails into his shoulders and moaning his name in time with his movements. Her heels dug into his ass, her h*ps lifting with each thrust. Each time their bodies rocked together, Violet felt her orgasm hover closer and closer, but she wanted to come with Jonathan. She'd already come once without him, and wanted to share this. She'd never felt closer to him than at this moment, and she clung to him as if he were a lifeline, feeling every thrust into her heart, her soul.
"I love you," she moaned as he began to pump harder.
"Keep telling me," he gritted. "I love hearing you say it."
"I love you," she repeated again, and gasped when he swiveled his h*ps against her own in a circular motion, making new nerve endings flare to attention. "Oh, God, Jonathan! I love you!"