Page 92 of Virago

“Don’t,” he said, opening his belt. “I want to.”

She stopped and watched him get naked. When he was, he stood before her, absolutely beautiful. His long, lean body was visibly strong, his shoulders broad, his hips slim, his muscles contoured. A thick vein traced the path of his right inguinal crease, leading her eye to his erection, huge and flushed with need.

Then he dropped to his knees and began taking her clothes off, starting with her sneakers, then her shorts and underwear, easing them gently over her thighs and down her legs. Then her t-shirt. Finally her bra. Moving carefully, he lifted her legs and settled between them, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the skin just below the bandage covering the stitches over her quad.

“Tell me if these pull.” The words were breath floating over her skin.

Unable to find her voice, she nodded. He looked up, missing her answer, and she nodded again. “I’ll say.”

Satisfied, Zaxx leaned in, hooked her thighs over his shoulders, and put his mouth directly on her clit. As his hands slipped beneath her and lifted her ass, Gia put her hands on his head, holding him in place, and let her own head fall back to the sofa.

All her thoughts fled her mind in a rush, clearing the way for complete focus on what Zaxx did to her. He brought her to the cusp again and again, backing off each time her body went taut, ready to erupt. One hand slid from her ass and found her breast, playing there, tweaking, pinching, pulling at her nipple until her skin there was so hard and erect she ached. Then he found the other and tortured it as perfectly.

Gia felt her body chasing release, twisting and flexing in his grip, yanking on his hair. She heard herself moan, whimper, beg, but Zaxx held her off, kept her at the edge until she thought she’d break down in heaving sobs of thwarted need.

When she thought she couldn’t bear it, at the moment her need threatened to become more pain than pleasure, Zaxx backed off. He sat back on his heels. Gia pried her eyes open and saw him watching her, his lips glistening and his cheeks flushed. When their eyes met, he smiled and stood up.

“Wha?” Gia grunted, honestly ready to cry with frustration.

“Trust me, babe,” he told her and grabbed his discarded jeans. When he snagged his wallet, she understood.

“Oh,” she gasped. “Good.”

While she lay sprawled where he’d left her, she watched him remove a condom, open the package, and roll it on. He came back to the sofa and surprised her again when he scooped her into his arms. Before she could wonder if he meant to (try to) carry her upstairs, he sat down and put her on his lap, facing out, her back to his front. His erection was a solid beam against her lower back, cool and slick from the condom’s lube.

“Oh,” she said again, understanding but still too lust-drunk for actual words. She started to put weight on her legs, to lift herself so she could get that gorgeous shaft where she needed it, but he held her fast again.

“Let me. Don’t use your leg.”

She nodded, and he grabbed her ass and lifted her off his lap, just enough so she could take hold of him and get them both in the right position. As he let her down and slipped into her, Gia’s eyes rolled back in her head. A sound came from her she had never made in her life, a rolling, twisting moan that ended in a surprised grunt as she landed fully on his lap, his cock filling her to her limit.

“Holy. Fucking. God,” Zaxx gasped behind her. He twisted his hips, grinding himself into her, and they both moaned. Gia felt new synapses forming, new nerves firing, her muscles and tissues shifting, shaping her pleasure to this man, his body, his moves, his ways of loving.

His hands still had her ass, holding her steady, keeping her from trying to use her leg. Falling back against his chest, letting her head drop alongside his, she grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands free, setting them instead on her breasts.

“I won’t use my leg,” she promised. “Just fuck me. Fuck me everywhere.”

“Gia,” he gasped, nosing her hair out of his way so he could latch his mouth, his teeth, into the meat of her shoulder, at the curve of her neck. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbled onto her skin.

Gia threw her arms back, shoved her hands into his hair, and offered her body for his taking. She let go of every thought, any challenge, and simply let him fuck her. Completely. Perfectly.

They fucked like that, slow yet wild, Zaxx gyrating beneath her, his hands adoring her breasts, skimming over her belly, delving between her thighs, returning to her nipples. They both cried out, groaned, moaned, grunted, gasped, encouraged, begged, and to Gia it was like music. Harmony and melody, rhythm and meter.

She’d never given herself like this. Always before she’d wanted control, or at least parity, the teasing thrust-and-parry, giving some of herself but not all, trying to take more than she gave, that she’d always thought of as good sex. She’d always considered surrender to be submission, and she never wanted to be dominated.

But this wasn’t submission; this was trust. Zaxx knew it, and he was worthy of it. He wasn’t dominating her. He was worshipping her.

As that thought took hold of her, as if he could sense it, Zaxx’s roaming hand slipped between her thighs again and claimed her clit. Gia fell to pieces instantly, her back arching sharply as waves of atom-splitting pleasure broke over her. Far beyond that horizon, she sensed Zaxx fall, too, his body going rigid around hers, a feral, strangled noise at her ear.

Eventually, reality returned. Slowly, reluctantly, Gia acknowledged it. She felt the brilliant ache between her thighs, the softening weight of Zaxx inside her. She heard the muffled sounds of her birthday party, not exactly winding down but shifting into the drunken scatter all Horde parties eventually reached.

Zaxx sighed heavily, like waking from a long sleep. “How’s your leg?”

“Leg?” Gia muttered playfully. “I have legs?”

His chuckle bumped cozily against her back. “I’m gonna take that to mean you’re not hurt.”

“Very much not.”

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