How did it feel to him? she wondered.
But then he thrust again and she lost her mind in the sensations, lost herself to the delicious push-pull of him moving inside her and opening her up. She groaned. He thrust, two, three, four times, his breathing harsh and controlled, and she could feel the immense power in his body as he held her up, angling her for his next stroke.
“I may not—” She was slow to orgasm. It took her a long time. Plus, she wasn’t a featherweight. How long could he realistically hold her up? “I take a long time to come.”
She waited for Gray to promise she’d come fast because he was that good, but he surprised her again. He nipped her lower lip hard, then laved the small sting.
“We don’t have any time limits. We’re doing this your way, so you come whenever you want or I’m not doing it right.”
Then he slammed his mouth down on hers and kissed her. Hard. This time, she concentrated on him and his tongue, mirroring the push-pull of his cock in her. He devoured her mouth. Licking, sucking, biting. He was everywhere, and for a moment she panicked, not sure she could breathe. Then she found the rhythm, their rhythm, and kissed him back.
HE NEEDED TO get this right. Had to make it good for her. He knew, without Laney telling him, that she didn’t let go often and so he wasn’t going to screw this up. She’d asked for her fantasy and he’d deliver.
Laney liked things a little rough, so he fisted her hair with his hand, wrapping the silky brown strands around his fingers. She had pretty hair, all tidy and organized like her. He hadn’t ever seen her with her hair down, not unless he got her that way. He didn’t want to hurt her, just make her hot, so he angled her head back with a light yank, and she opened up to him. Her mouth ate his as if she couldn’t get enough, her sexy whimpers getting him off. Her nails pricked his skin and damned if he didn’t enjoy that, too. She’d marked him.
He pushed in hard.
She rewarded him with another husky moan.
He pushed her legs wider apart, forcing her thighs open with his. She was gonna ache in the morning, but she’d told him she liked that. She wanted to know where he’d been, wanted to feel him on every inch of her skin. He could do that, too. Drawing her arms up over her head, he pinned her wrists with one hand. She moaned again and he pulled back, shoving into her until he was buried balls-deep.
“I’m not going slow.”
“Good.” She gasped the word. Another sign he was getting this right.
Give her fair warning. “I’m not done until the only thing you’re screaming is my name.”
“Cocky bastard.” She didn’t sound as if she minded.
He leaned in, pressing her into the wall. “You still want to pretend? Maybe that I’ve got you up against the wall behind the biker bar and we’re doing it hard and quick, because anyone could come walking out. Some guy going for a smoke and he gets an eyeful. You think he’d enjoy watching you?”
Her nails dug deeper, her pussy clenching and squeezing every inch of his dick. He’d give almost anything to be buried in her without the latex, skin to skin.
He wanted to draw this out, to make them both wait to come, because this was their first time and possibly their only. She hadn’t put a time limit on her fantasy, but she was only here on the island for a few days, and he was only here until he’d tagged and bagged Marcos. It didn’t seem like anywhere near enough time, not now that she’d allowed him in.
He pulled out, pushed back in. Four, five, six deep thrusts that buried him all the way and sent her arching up toward him. Cupping her ass, he held her in place as he drove into her. He pounded into her, finding a fast, fierce rhythm that banged her into the wall, sealing them together.
“Keep your hands there,” he growled, releasing her wrists.
Reaching between them, he thrummed her clit. Her sweet spot was hard and bursting beneath his thumb. She chanted his name in his ear, almost loud enough to be heard if anyone walked by. He liked that. He could take her outside, onto the beach maybe, and pound into her. Let her feel the excitement of doing it where someone might catch her in the act.
“You’re fucking perfect.” He meant the words, too, and that scared him.
Shut up. He kissed her because he wasn’t sure what might come out of his mouth and more to shut himself up than her. Plus, talking wasn’t happening anymore. Her body clung to his, squeezing his dick in a greedy grip. The pleasure hit him out of nowhere, pleasure with a side of something else. Satisfaction, possession, who-the-hell-knew-what, because she dropped her hands from the wall and linked them around his neck.
“Gray.” She whispered his name, and the heartfelt shudder was better than any scream he’d heard. Quiet satisfaction tore through him as she angled down toward him and she came, just like that, her eyes drifting shut. He wanted to know what she saw, what she was thinking of. Him, he hoped. Her pussy squeezed him and there was no holding off his own release. Instead, he buried his face against her throat, coming undone with her.
7
HOLY...WOW. THE MAN had turned her inside out. Rendered her boneless. He’d taken charge and stripped her of every ounce of self-control she possessed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
“That was fantastic,” she said, because she felt the need to say something. To fill up the silence because he was staring at her, and she had no idea what he was thinking. She also felt more than a little ridiculous. She’d asked him for rough sex and, boy, had he delivered. The problem was that there was absolutely no graceful way to slide down the wall afterward and pretend she hadn’t been shamelessly begging him to give it to me harder mere seconds ago.
Clothes. She needed clothes.
And space. Lots and lots of space.
“Tell me what worked for you,” she said instead. He bent his knees and gently lowered her to the floor. One problem solved. Treat this like any other operation. Review what happened. Identify areas to improve. “No. Wait. Hold that thought.”
Donning some clothes seemed prudent before they started dissecting sex acts. She padded into the bathroom to grab a robe for them both. The his-and-her matched set hanging on the wall no longer seemed like a reminder of the love life she didn’t have. Holy moly. What happened next now that the hot, spontaneous vacation hookup part of their evening was over? Because she wasn’t ready to go to sleep—or to say goodbye to Gray.
Instead, she was recharged and full of energy. If the regrets hit tomorrow, she’d deal with them then. She liked the new Laney Parker, the woman who wasn’t afraid to drag a sexy stranger into her bungalow and let him have his wicked way with her. She could worry about life and unemployment later. Or whether Gray intended to spend the night or not.
Don’t overthink this. She snatched the robes from their matching hooks in the bathroom and slid into hers. Damn it. Should she tie the sash? Sashay back on out into the bedroom half-naked and give Gray ideas about doing it again? Find a pair of silky panties and slip into them? Really, she had no idea how other women handled this. When she walked out, tying the robe closed, he lounged on the bed. His new position gave her an awesome view of his big, powerful body. Not for the first time, she wondered what a masseuse had to do in his spare time to get that kind of physique. He’d zipped his pants back up, but hadn’t bothered with his shirt. She took a good look, admiring the picture he made, even while the questions racked up. From the scars on his body, he’d been a frequent flyer at his local ER. In addition to the scars she’d already noticed on the beach, he had more scars on his rib cage and an exit wound on his right shoulder. Plus, he wore dog tags she’d noticed earlier.
She tried to keep the question in, but the words flew out, anyhow. “Where did you serve?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”
It kind of did to her, part of that whole get to know Gray better plan. His battle scars said he’d been places, done things that he definitely hadn’t shared. And, while it really wasn’t any of her business, she was curious, and all that raw strength was attractive. He’d scooped her up effortlessly and held her against the wall. She wasn’t a tiny woman, but he made her feel feminine and small in a way that was a delicious treat. Gray was chocolate cake after a diet. She couldn’t do it often, but once in a while...it was okay to cheat and have things that were bad for her.
And he was very, very bad.
“Laney.” He ground out her name. She might have forgotten positively everything in his arms—right down to her surroundings and her dignity—but she knew her own name, so she ignored him.
She perched on the edge of the bed and crossed one leg over the other. “If you won’t tell me about your scars, give me the evening’s highlights.”
“Is this post-mortem a doctor thing?” He rolled onto his side, looking at her, and she could hear the lazy amusement coloring his voice. He thought she was being funny. He reached out a hand and curved his fingers around her thigh. She should have looked for those panties. “Lie down.”
“Tell me what I didn’t get one hundred percent right. I’m serious.” She swung her feet up onto the bed and scooted toward him. She should probably get up and wash her feet first so she didn’t get sand or something worse on the duvet. Why did hotels always choose white? It was so impractical.