He pulled away and trailed his palm over the curve of her hip, down through her curls, and slid a finger inside her. Her sheath was hot—and so damn wet—and he found her clit with his thumb, rubbing tiny circles while his finger thrust in and out.
She whimpered and draped a leg around his thigh, opening herself to him. When she wrapped her lips around his nipple and sucked, he about lost it. Her hand encircled his throbbing cock, stroking him from the base of his shaft to the tip and back down.
Her breath hitched in time with his until they both gulped for air. A shudder traveled through her, his name passed her lips, and he let go, climaxing with her. Jesus. He leaned his forehead against hers, the sound of their heavy breaths filling the confines of the shower. He wanted her in bed. Now. Reaching back, he turned off the water, picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom.
“We’re gonna get your bed wet,” she said.
“I don’t care.” He tossed her onto the mattress and followed her down. Finally, he had her where he’d wanted her for almost four years. Droplets of water dotted her skin and he set about licking her dry. Each place his tongue touched, goose bumps appeared and little shivers passed through her when he found her sensitive places. He memorized each time she reacted—just there on the curve of her breast, the spot on her neck just below her ear, here on her inner thigh—all points of pleasure for her he’d pay special attention to as he loved her.
But first, he had to taste her. Needed to. He pressed his face between her thighs and inhaled the earthy musk scent of her arousal. He adored the little noises she made when she came, and he set about enticing her to make them again. A low growl escaped him when she lifted her hips to meet his tongue. Using his mouth, his tongue, and the scrape of his teeth, he brought her to her second climax of the morning.
She tasted so incredibly sweet that he feared no one but her would do for him. When her body calmed, he reached over and pulled a condom out of the night table drawer. Tearing open the package with his teeth, he started to put it on.
“Let me,” she said and sat up, her gaze intent on him. “I’ve never put one on a man before. Show me how.”
“Didn’t your ex-boyfriend use them?”
“He always went into the bathroom to put it on. I guess it was a private thing.”
Jake decided her ex-boyfriend had been a fool, but then, he already knew that. He handed her the condom and lifted to his knees, which put his hard, pulsing erection near her face. “Leave it rolled, start at the tip, and unroll it as you cover me.” Damn if she didn’t lower a fascinated gaze on his cock and the thing jerked, trying to reach her mouth.
She flicked a finger over the tip catching the drop of moisture there, then stuck her finger in her mouth, tasted him, and grinned. “You taste like salty seawater.”
“You’re killing me, Maria. Put the damn thing on me.”
It was as if she were performing a sacred ritual, so slow and precise did she unroll the condom over him, the whole time her gaze focused on his shaft as her fingers touched him to cover him with the rubber. Jake gritted his teeth, clinched his fists, and bore it.
“Now what?” she asked when she finished.
“Now this,” he said and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. Twisting them around, he leaned back against the headboard. With his hand, he guided his cock into her. “Ride me.”
She snickered. “Like a horse? Why not, you’re built like one.”
He looked into her eyes and smiled. “I seriously doubt that, but hey, I have no problem with you thinking so.” She sank down on him and he hissed. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought of us doing this.”
“Me, too, Jake. Me, too.”
She then obeyed and rode him hard. Had she thought of them together like this for as long as he had? Her breasts bounced in front of his face as she found a rhythm she liked, and he gave into the temptation to suck a nipple into his mouth. Yeah, maybe he could be faithful to one woman as long as it was Maria. He stopped thinking as a pressure built deep within him, a need to claim her, make her his.
“Jake!” She stilled, then trembled, as she shattered around him. Her inner muscles clinched around him, and she buried her face against his neck, her breaths warm on his skin.
“Maria,” he answered and let go, coming so hard he stopped breathing for a second. “Maria,” he gasped, his mouth pressed into the valley of her breasts. Maria. Her name a song, one too beautiful to ever belong to him. But there she was—his fantasy—straddling him and calling his name.