Page 60 of The Golden Hour

“Of course we can, but, uh, maybe now isn’t the time—”

“Finn,” I interject. “I want you. Now.”

I’ve never seen a man move so fast.

32

Thank God Molly isn’t at the apartment, because Callisto is on me the second the door closes behind us. Taking full advantage of my male brain, I gladly shut off everything but what’s happening. The fascinating, gorgeous, courageous woman dangling from my arms. The tantalizing, creamy scent of her arousal. Soft, full breasts against my chest and small fingers clenching in my hair.

Her kisses are urgent and deliciously artless as I carry her into my bedroom. The only light comes from a streetlamp outside, a golden hue that stretches across the bed in stripes from the half-closed blinds.

When I lay her down, she whimpers in protest, but I’m only apart from her long enough to drag my shirt over my head and kick off my shoes. What she doesn’t realize—can’t possibly realize—is how long I’ve waited for this. Even when I didn’t know I wanted her, I wanted her. And I plan on taking my sweet time.

But then her hand cups the bulge in my pants and squeezes, and once more, I forget everything but the moment. My intentions—honorable, dammit—fade like smoke.

In minutes we’re naked, panting, rubbing against each other like beasts in heat. She bites my thumb as I devour her throat, breasts, the soft canvas of her belly. Down, down I go.

“Yes, yes.”

My first taste of her is a kick to the heart. Perfect. She’s perfect. I’d happily spend the rest of my life with my face between her legs, breathing in the ambrosia of her scent, her flavor on my tongue.

Mine.

I’m already in too deep, never having felt this way in bed with a woman. I pulse with a raw, primitive need to stamp her, claim her, bind her to me. It’s jarring. Scary as fuck.

But then again, I’ve always been a risk-taker.

She comes on a broken, gasping cry, her thighs trembling against my ears. Triumphant and oddly sated myself, I treat her to languorous licks until she yanks my head up by my hair.

“Inside me. Now.”

I reach for the condom on the nightstand, rolling it on with the last of my sanity. I’m witless, enslaved to her. In this moment, if she asked me to fuck her ear, I’d try.

Poised above her, I stare into her dark eyes. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“I do,” she counters softly, “because you do the same to me.”

My lips find hers as I rock forward. She’s slick from her orgasm but tight, so tight, as I ease inside her. Don’t hurt her. Go slowly.

“More,” she groans, nails scraping down my back. “Harder.”

The tenuous hold of brain over body snaps. I drive into her like a madman, savage and unstoppable. But as I fill her, over and over again, she fills me too—with her cries, her sweat, her lips, and the primal undulation of her body in sync with mine.

My orgasm begins as a tickle, a teasing pressure that narrows as it builds in intensity. Callisto bucks against me with a ragged cry, her pussy clamping on my cock, and suddenly nothing on earth can stop me from coming right along with her.

“Jesus, fuck, holy shit,” I groan, my head hanging listlessly beside her face.

“Same,” she pants. “That was…”

“If you say good, I’m going to spank you.”

She laughs soundlessly, nudging me onto my side. My poor, spent dick whimpers as he’s forced to leave her, while my brain kicks on and worries that she thinks this was a mistake.

But she merely snuggles up against me, her head nestled beneath my chin. And I feel… content. Insulated. Fucking ecstatic.

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

“Anytime, princess. And I mean that literally. I’m one hundred percent available to do that again whenever, wherever you want.”

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