She clenched on him and bucked like she was a filly being ridden for the first time. All bareback rodeo.
Both his hands smacked back on her hips. She bucked and pushed back against him harder. His fingers dug into her flesh. His thrusts went crazy wild. Knocking her forward, almost off her hands. She spread them wider, fingers gripping the mattress to help keep her balance.
She panted, moaned, cried out as he took her harder than she’d ever been taken in her life. Hotter than she’d ever been in her life. She hadn’t thought anything could surpass last night, but this was animalistic and wild. She screamed as the orgasm hit her. Heat billowed around her, through her, pulsing with every clench of her inner muscles. Never before had she felt anything as good as this.
With one final thrust he came, emitting a long, deep groan of release. She eased forward onto her stomach as his weight came over her.
“Naughty vixen,” he murmured, lazily sweeping his hand down her spine. “You win that round.” He ran his hand along the length of her arm, pressing it into the mattress. “But you will pay for it.”
“Really? Bite me.”
“Oh, I will. Later.” He chuckled. “You sound so pleased with yourself.”
“I am pleased with myself.” She breathed in deeply, satisfaction filling her.
For once, she was very, very pleased with herself.
That was the first time she’d enjoyed giving head. The first time she’d gotten more turned on doing rather than receiving. The pleasure in knowing she’d made him lose control was indescribable.
“You make me want to do all these things I’d never wanted to do before,” she admitted. She felt like she’d been missing out on a whole side of herself she hadn’t known anything about—a side that was normal for everyone else.
“Ditto.” He toyed with her hair, sliding it over her back with a lazy finger.
Her heart slammed to a stop. What did he say he did with her that he usually didn’t do with other women? The only thing was sex—bossy-style sex. Her heart thundered again. “You’re not usually this dominant in bed?”
He took a moment to reply. “Not as dominant, no.”
“So you’re doing it for me.” She pressed her cheek deeper into the pillow so he couldn’t see all her face. He wasn’t being himself because she wasn’t good enough? He had to act a part to make this good?
“No.” The words sounded dragged from him. “It’s something only you seem to pull from me.”
She rolled onto her side and stared at him.
Please. Don’t let this—the best sex of my life—be yet another man’s disappointment.
…
As Joe watched the array of emotions flit across her face, he felt his heart rip open out of his chest. That yearning. How the hell could she do this to him with just that look? “Damn it, Abbi, you make me want to…claim. To own,” he muttered. The words were choked out of his. Words he didn’t want to think, let alone say. “I have this urge to haul you close and make you mine.”
He saw desire flare in her eyes as that familiar flush bloomed over her skin. He was hard again in a second. Fastest-ever recovery time. All he could think about was hauling her close, pushing himself deep and staying there.
His. All his. Only his.
He moved, flipping her onto her back. He deftly ripped off the used condom and pulled on another. He wanted her again. Now. Wanted her exposed and open to him.
Maybe it was just that willingness—the way she looked at him. He could drown in the softness in her eyes. She made him ache for… He didn’t know what.
He closed his eyes, thrust deep inside her, and concentrated. Keep in the present. It was all about now. And now was the delight of Abbi.
He’d keep it slow this time. So slow she wouldn’t be able to cope. So slow she’d whimper and beg until he, too, was driven wild.
“Every guy likes to tame and claim,” he muttered. “It’s all the more fun when it’s a demanding woman he’s up against.”
“I’m not demanding.”
“Yes, you are.” He bit the side of her neck and then licked the spot with a circular motion. “You’re fucking demanding.”
And he loved it.
Chapter Thirteen
“Keep your interactions short and sweet.”
At four thirty in the morning Joe slipped as quietly as he could from her bed.
But she woke anyway.
“Where are you going?” She sat up, pushing the hair from her eyes.
He looked down at her. In the half light of predawn, he could see those blue eyes intent on him. Focused yet soft. Concerned. Caring.
It was the way she’d looked at him all those years ago back when he’d been no one with nothing. She’d been the first, hell, the only one to look at him like that—with more than just lust in her eyes. She’d shown more than interest in just his body or, compared with women he’d met in later years, just his bank balance.