One moment he’s striding across the room, the next he’s pushing me up against the counter, driving his hands into my hair. He kisses me with all the abandon of a wild animal. I’m elated and skeptical and overwhelmed by his passion.
I drag my mouth away from his. “Rogan, wait. Please.” I struggle to catch my breath as dark green eyes devour my face.
“I thought thinking about you would help with my scenes. And it did. Right up until I kissed her. She wasn’t you. No one else is you.”
And just like that, all my insecurities, all my pain, all my niggling fears are washed away in the tide of his desire. This is for me. All that was for me, too. Whether or not I can see why, Rogan wants me.
“I thought . . . It looked like . . .” I stammer, feeling silly now.
Rogan cups my face. “When are you going to realize that you’re the one I want, Katie? The only one I want.”
“But . . . it just doesn’t make any sense,” I argue.
“It does to me,” he says, bending his head toward mine, spreading kisses over my face to punctuate his sentences. “The shy way you look away from me when I watch you. The sexy way you lick your lips when you concentrate. The delicious way you pant when you’re gettin’ ready to come.” Rogan’s hands slip around the tops of my thighs and lift until I’m sitting on the counter. My skirt is hiked up and Rogan is standing between my knees. “Your midnight eyes, your lush tits, your perfect ass. You’re all I can think about most days. And now that I’ve been inside you . . . God!” Rogan spreads my legs farther and pulls me toward him until we are pressed intimately together. He grinds against me and I grip the counter, leaning back and holding on. “My body craves you.”
He dives into my mouth like it’s an oasis in a barren land. His tongue swirls around mine in a ravenous rhythm that’s like a drug. And I’m drugged. Out of my mind under his influence. “My hands feel you. Even when you’re not around.” As if to prove his point, Rogan backs away just enough to slide his hands under my skirt and up the outsides of my thighs. He runs his fingers under the edge of my panties, tracing the elastic to the damp material between my legs. Frantic and not thinking, I reach for his zipper. I need to feel his hardness. I need to feel that he wants me. I need to have it in my hands, a tangible thing. When I wind my fingers around it, it jumps against my palm. “And my cock . . . it throbs to be inside you,” he says, moving his fingertips into my crease. He moans loudly as he spreads moisture over my clit and gently massages it.
Flexing his hips toward me, Rogan covers my fingers with his own, gripping his length and guiding it toward my body. He nudges my legs farther apart and rubs the head between my folds, the silken knob gliding smoothly over my clit.
Back and forth, he moves over me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. “If I could make a living finding new ways to make you come, that’s all I’d do. Every day for the rest of my life.” He teases me with the wide crown of his shaft, the friction unbearably delicious. He eases down toward my entrance and then moves away again, a dance meant to torture. And that’s what it’s doing. “My mouth waters when I think about the way you taste. Better than pie,” he says hoarsely, reminding me of our lunch conversation.
Suddenly urgent to mark him with moments and phrases and memories like he’s marking me, I push against his chest until he releases me, and I drop to my knees on the floor in front of him.
Reaching around and sinking my hands into his firmly perfect butt, I lick the glistening head and then ease my lips down over Rogan, taking as much of him into my mouth as I can, which isn’t nearly all of him. I taste the essence of me mingled with the flavor of his skin, a salty, intoxicating cocktail that has heat and more moisture gushing into my panties.
I moan against him and Rogan threads his fingers into my hair, hissing his approval as I consume him with mouth and hands, even running my tongue along the crease between his heavy balls. “If you were on the pill, I’d spread your legs and come all over you,” he growls, rocking his hips against me.
I work my way back up his shaft, sucking and licking until I feel him tighten against my palm. “I’m gonna come,” he breathes with great effort. A tingle of satisfaction ripples through me and when his warmth pours into my mouth, my sex throbs with need.
I take every drop, savoring him as the ache between my legs increases. And then hands are reaching under my arms to pull me upright. Rogan’s mouth covers mine in a savage kiss as his fingers find my core, thrusting into me and stealing my breath. “Oh God!” I cry, my knees going weak.