I bit my lip. “Mmm-hmm.”
“Do you want me inside you?”
“Yes, please.” I added the please because I knew he liked it when I said it; and, oddly enough, I liked saying it to him.
His cock nudged at my entrance and I closed my eyes. He wasn’t wearing a condom and the feel of us skin on skin was too good. I’d tell him to put one on . . . in a minute. I just needed to feel this for one . . . more . . . minute.
I was still slick and wet from when he’d gone down on me, and before I knew it he’d ever-so-easily slipped inside me.
He was mind-blowing. His hands were on my hips, almost going the entire way around my waist.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groaned, pumping up into me.
“Sean,” I breathed. “We didn’t . . . you forgot the condom.”
His eyes flared in mild panic as soon as I said the words. “Shit,” he swore loudly. “If you’re not on the pill I can—”
“No, I’m on it, it’s just . . .” I sliced my teeth across my lips, very much doubting he had the self-restraint to pull out even if he wanted to. This was the same man who complained about lasting ten whole minutes for a blow job, after all.
Understanding seemed to dawn in his eyes, “I’m clean. I get tested all the time for work. My last one was just three weeks ago.”
“Three weeks?”
He frowned, his expression turning fierce. “You must know, there’s been no one but you.”
I nodded and added my own blurted confession. “I’m clean. And there’s been no one but you either.”
“I don’t want anyone but you,” he said, like a chant, like he was so focused on the feel of me, he hadn’t heard my words.
“Oh,” I said, because it was all I could manage, closing my eyes again. He was still moving inside me. It was instinctual, like he couldn’t stop now that he’d started.
“Does this feel good to you?” he asked, still so concerned about my pleasure. I couldn’t believe he’d gone from a serial one-night-stander who didn’t care at all about the satisfaction of his lovers, to a man who savored every moment of my enjoyment. Had I done this to him? The thought was both exhilarating and sobering.
“God, yes, do you even have to ask?” I answered, my words coming out in a rush.
“I want to be sure. It’s important to me to make you feel good.”
“You’re thinking too much. Get out of your head and just do what your body tells you.”
I started to ride him and he groaned, his head falling into the pillows. I opened my eyes and he was watching me. His gaze never left mine, his hands still held me tight, as we both pushed our bodies to the brink of ecstasy. A moment later he began moving his flattened out palms up and over my hips. Instinctually, I took his hands and raised them to my breasts. They covered them completely and I loved how it felt, loved feeling him on every inch of me.
“Keep touching me,” I urged as I felt a sharp, keening pleasure formulate from the pit of my stomach and all the way down to my clit.
He pinched my nipples and I gasped. “Yes, that feels amazing.”
Growling, he rose up to take one nipple in his mouth, his other hand pressing into my lower back. My moans filled the room as he continued to fuck me, his other hand going down between us to find my clit.
“Sean,” I cried out as he rubbed me, too many sensations hitting me all at once.
“Come,” he demanded on a growl, the sound vibrating from his mouth still on my nipple right through me. His fingers kept circling my clit, and I felt the wetness between us coating him. “Come with me,” he urged again right before his mouth left my breast and sought my lips. His kiss was wet and desperate, and when his tongue plunged inside I came violently right there with him still inside. I filled with warmth as his movements slowed and his mouth fell from mine to bite possessively at my jaw. He kept moving until he’d drained every last moment of his orgasm.
“Jesus Christ, Lucy,” he rasped, holding me tight.
“Sean,” I panted, wrapping my arms around his neck as we both fell back into the bed, savoring the after-effects of what was possibly the most amazing sex either one of us had ever experienced.
I was certain of it.
Because it wasn’t just sex . . .
Turning us, he spooned me from behind. I loved how big and warm his body was. I loved how he nuzzled my neck. I loved how his hands were caressing and reverent.
“Stay with me,” he said, more a soft rumble than spoken words.
I nodded, giving myself over to it—to him—pushing away encroaching fretfulness for just a little bit longer.
Because this was nice. It was more than nice. It was spectacular. It felt necessary.