I noticed his hands had stopped on his jeans, in the processing of unzipping them. I swung my eyes upward and met his. They were gleaming with amusement. But he said nothing. He didn’t have to. I smiled a bit ruefully and waggled my eyebrows, acknowledging I’d been caught, but my gaze drifted down to his hands again and another time, maybe Bo would have played it up for me, grabbed himself. Stroked himself.
I remembered where he liked to be touched, remembered the day I’d learned. Sitting in my chair, with the afternoon light caressing him, he’d run my hand over his body, pressing lightly at his most sensitive spots and groaning audibly to let me know when he wanted my touch heavier, tighter. The vision of his head tipped back in pleasure was burned into my memory. I don’t know that it could ever be excised. Or that I could ever have enough of him. I raised the blanket to invite him in when he’d disrobed, nude as always.
He slipped in next to me, sliding an arm under my neck and pulling my head onto his chest. The fingers of one hand stroked through my hair. The other he wrapped around my cheek and chin so he could tilt my face upward. He pressed his lips hard against mine, his tongue plunging forward. I gripped his shoulders and he dropped his hand from my hair, wrapping it around my back. I could feel the heat of his body, the protectiveness of his embrace. His mouth was wide and open, eating at my mouth, my lips.
When he finally pulled away, I felt dazed. Like he’d consumed part of me with that kiss.
Bo’s hand traveled from my face and ran slowly down my arm, raising the flesh and making me shiver. He bent his head toward me, biting me softly between my neck and shoulder. He laved the bite mark and moved up my neck, alternating nips and licks. He slid a hand down the front of my jeans and pressed his fingers hard against my clit. His fingertips rested near my opening. He began to rub me, gently but with firm pressure. I could feel my body lubricating his fingers.
Our heavy breaths filled the night air. I was so close to succumbing. My nails raked up his back, and I could feel the play of his muscles responding to my attention. I wished I could see his body in the moonlight, watch the beams caress every dip and hollow.
We shoved my jeans off together, a mix of hands and feet until I was as nude as he was.
I pushed him backward and laid my tongue against his pectoral. I kissed and licked my way across the acres of moonlit skin. I rubbed myself against his chest, abrading my nipples against his chest. His fingers still stroked me, readying me for his intrusion.
He lifted his already-covered cock and positioned the tip between us. I lifted my hips to accommodate him and sank down slowly, allowing my body to accustom itself to his girth. Even though I’d had him before, my body still acted surprised and shy. He placed both hands on my hips and pushed upward.
I gasped.
“You all right, Sunshine?”
“Yes,” I groaned out, “keep going,” and I moved around on his shaft. He took over, pushing hard into me. I allowed him to control the pace, but it wasn’t enough, and soon he’d flipped me underneath him, dipping a hand between the two of us and rubbing me hard while thrusting swiftly. His skin was pulled tight over his bones and he looked like a fierce hawk at that moment, the hard planes highlighted by shadows.
Chapter Twenty-Six
AM
“WHAT’S THIS?” I ASKED, PULLING a round, heavy object from the mishmash of coins, keys, and bottle caps that represented the contents of his pockets. He’d dumped it all on my dresser before pulling off his jeans, as was his regular habit. After taking a bathroom break, I wandered over to look at the collection.
Bo sat up and the blankets pooled around his waist, leaving his chest bare. The morning light peeked through the shades. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath, afraid he would disappear, until he threw back the covers and climbed out, uncaring that he was naked. I stared at his obvious arousal, a flush of heat and embarrassment mixing to bring color to my cheeks and the tops of my breasts.
Following my gaze, he looked down and then up to grin unrepentantly at me. Spreading his arms, he said, “What can I say? You turn me on.”
“I think a stiff wind would turn you on,” I mocked, trying to hide my own pleasure at this thought.
His arms wrapped around me, and I felt his erection press against my side. “This is all yours, stiff wind or no. You can’t expect me to wake up in your bed, surrounded by the smell of us, you looking all rosy and hot, and not get a stiffy.”
He sat on my chair and pulled me down facing him. As always, he arranged me to his liking. My legs over his, straddling him. The tip of his morning wood pressing lightly against me. I squirmed a little, the light pressure turning me on more than I thought it would. Had I thought it’d been good with old what’s-his-name? I didn’t know what good was.