She let go of the bed sheets to thread her fingers through his hair, and he slipped his hand free to adjust her hips. He groaned, fighting to control his pace and entered her slowly, inch by fantastic inch, her sweet heat enveloping him as he thrust. Lifting his head, he stilled and waited for her eyes to open.
“I’m going to come hard and I’m going to come fast.” He wanted her to know what she did to him, how it felt to have her pussy wrapped so tight around his cock that he saw stars. He wanted to fly off that ledge with her and pound into her until he emptied all the pent up passion dragging his balls taut. He didn’t usually favor dirty talk. Some of the guys mentioned it now and again, but he liked to treat a lady like a lady. Odd that he wanted to talk dirty to Sheri, the beautiful librarian with the sweet brown eyes.
My brown-eyed girl. She tightened her grip on him, wrapping her legs around his waist, her wild smile sparkling with challenge. His body tired of his thoughts.
“Bring it, Marine.”
She didn’t have to tell him twice. He surged forward, promising himself they’d go slower next time. He pistoned into her, his cock sinking deeper with every stroke. The velvet glove of her sex locked him in, squeezing him tighter. She made the sweetest noises; all gasps and sighs, and caressed his spine, urging him closer to the edge. They writhed together and there was no stopping his orgasm. It blew through him, swelling until every cell in his body converged and burst with pleasure.
She jolted against him and bit down on his shoulder. “A.J.”
He came in a burst of hard, hot liquid release. Sheri trembled against him, skin quivering, pussy clamping and unclamping. He dragged her closer, rolling onto his side and held her tight as they shook together.
Gradually, his pulse quieted and breathing returned to a semblance of normalcy. Glancing at the clock, he grinned. They had hours.
Hours left to play.
***
Two orgasms. Two. Back to back and she was full, stretched, and sore in all the right places. She couldn’t get over the feel of him, the hard steadiness of his muscles and the contrast of his demanding passion to his utter gentleness. Head pillowed on his shoulder, she rubbed her palm against his chest. His heart thundered and her mind raced. A.J. Turner was made for sex. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good.
The soothing stroke of his hand running up and down her arm helped to quiet the pleasurable aftershocks tingling through her with every breath. She pushed herself up on an elbow, studying how their bodies tangled together. A small smile hovered against his lips.
“Hey.” He exhaled the greeting soft, slow, and sexy as hell.
“Hey back.” She walked two fingers across the firm abdominals and smoothed her palm against his chest, half exploring, half petting. Eddies of pleasure radiated from all over—between her legs, hell, even her toes seemed to quiver in satisfaction. “Thank you.”
He chuckled, continuing to stroke her arm, her side and down over her hip bone. “You’re welcome and thank you.” His stomach growled into the silence and they both burst out laughing.
It pained her to pull away, to feel the last of him slip free, but when her stomach gurgled nearly as loud as his, the giggles struck again. He trailed a caress down to her thigh and watched her with solemn, almost too bright, blue eyes.
“I had dinner delivered for us. It’s a cold supper—sandwiches, drinks, potato salad.”
She turned her attention to the kitchenette, spotting the white bags with the MGR logo on the side. “Hungry?”
He cupped her breast and rolled a calloused thumb across her nipple. It stiffened in appreciation and pleasure tingled everywhere. “Starving.”
Blissful desire sighed through her. A.J. sat up and kissed a lazy path across each breast, pausing only to nip and suck at the distended nipples crowning each one. She skimmed her nails across his scalp, torn between the urges to watch his dark head move back and forth and pushing him back until she could impale herself on his cock again. She wanted to be on top next time. Her thighs quivered at the images popping into her head. He slipped a hand around the back of her neck and fed her erotic fantasy with a long, lingering kiss. God, the man knew how to kiss. He took control, slanting his mouth against hers, demanding access with his tongue, and twining it sensuously with her own.
With foreheads resting together, he broke the kiss. It was almost too much intimacy. They touched everywhere. It wasn’t just the physical contact, but the way his entire being seemed to pour into hers, searching, seeking, captivating.
“I want to get up and feed you. But that means I have to stop touching you and feasting myself.” The throaty admission turned her insides to jelly. It was an almost corny line, but the raw emotion in his voice made it echo with sincerity.