Page 84 of Flirting with Forever

He laughed, but it was pained, harsh. He reached down and undid her shorts, tugging them away. “Someday. For now, let’s keep things simple.”

His fingers tangled in the sides of her white underwear, but he didn’t move them. Instead, he fell forward and started kissing at her chest. Mary gasped for air when he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth, almost harshly. He scooped at her breasts, rounding them, pillowing them, burying his stubbly face in her softness. He started an unfamiliar rhythm. A tug-scrape-smooth using his lips and teeth and tongue against one nipple and then the other. Mary felt a string pull tight inside her, and she opened her mouth, chasing the feeling as she stared unseeing at the sunlight and shadow on his ceiling. His rhythm was methodical, purposeful, the way some men went down on a woman with a specific goal in mind.

Her hips started to buck underneath him. She hooked a leg around him and began to grind herself against his body, any part of his body, seeking friction at all and every cost.

“John,” she gasped, tossing her head to one side as her fingers ached from how hard she gripped his comforter.“John.”

He was going to make her come with nothing more than his mouth at her breasts, his strong hands caging her in.

At the last second, he pulled away, roughly pushing open her legs and tugging the seam of her underwear to one side. John ducked his head and tongue-kissed her between her legs, ending on a seeking suck that, like a star pulling tight in the moments before explosion, had her trembling on the edge of something world-ending. He slightly softened the suck, flicked his tongue, and Mary was gone.

She screamed his name, grateful he was pinning her thighs down because her entire body shook violently. Her world tumbled, dragging Mary along with it. She gasped for air, but it didn’t help the rainbow of spots that appeared in her vision as she said his name over and over again.

He kneaded at her wetness softly with his tongue and lips, as if making certain to press out every single aftershock. When she was finally able to look down, she saw immediately that his gentle mouth was at direct odds with his blazing eyes. Black and white, two-toned voice, rude and sweet, two men at once. He watched her with a look she’d never seen before from him.

She reached down and grabbed a handful of his shirt, yanking hard enough to stretch the fabric. He heeded. As he came up onto his knees, she sat up with him and they both ripped his shirt off. She barely had time to see the thatch of hair across his wide chest, his strong arms where they plugged into round shoulders and smoothly arcing collarbones. She barely saw it because he tumbled her backward.

He pressed her down with his weight, both hands cradling the back of her skull, tangling in her hair. “Let me, Mary,” he said. He bent his head and bit lightly at the pulse in her neck, but then his eyes were back on hers, and she was swimming in them, tumbling, lashed to him and spinning, just the two of them. “Let me,” he said again, part command, part plea.

“Condom,” she gasped, and he scrabbled at his nightstand drawer, grappling for a moment, before he brought an unopened box to his mouth and tore it gracelessly open. Condoms flew in an arc over the bed and onto the floor, but thankfully there was one in easy reach. Again, he was on his knees over her, shoving his shorts and boxers down to midknee.

He bounced free, his shaft almost touching his own stomach he wanted her so badly. Mary gasped, needing more oxygen than the hot, close air this room was providing her. His shaft was blunt and wide. Mary took the opportunity while he was tearing the condom open to sit up and get a better look. But she didn’t have time to do more than that. His hands came down, and he firmly slid the condom on.

He barred a forearm across her lower back and dragged her hips up to his, tossing her backward onto the bed, cradling her head with one palm as he came over her.

“Yes,” she whispered, reveling in his obvious desperation for her, like he couldn’t go another second without her heat. “Yes.”

With one dexterous hand he pulled her panties to the side and firmly slid a finger, and then another, inside of her, opening her up for him. She hooked a leg around his waist. Mary gasped, huffing air, as John pushed the head of his shaft up against his fingers, docking himself an inch inside of her.

His attention went from between her legs to her face. “Yes?” He crooked his fingers inside of her, rubbing at her G-spot in a crazy-making motion.

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna let me, Mary? You’re finally gonna let me.”

Again, his words were a mixture of plea and command, and the combination had a rush of wetness making her ache between her legs. “Now,” she begged.

John pressed his hips forward, and his hardness pushed into her in the same motion that he removed his fingers. The push and pull of it was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and Mary straight-up screamed as he buried himself to the hilt inside of her.

She was clawed against him completely, her ankles crossed at his lower back, her hands in fists at his shoulder blades, her forehead jammed into the crook of his neck. “John.”

He lifted his head to study her face, his expression softening at whatever he saw there. “I’ll never get enough of you saying my name like that.”

He dropped his mouth to hers and started grinding his hips against hers. He went even deeper and had her gasping, her fingers scratching over his back. His pelvic bone found her clit, and she moaned.

He swallowed down her sound as his tongue tangled with hers, pulling out halfway and pushing back in. Mary somehow went tight and loose at the same time. He picked up the pace, but he was never sharp; his strokes were almost round, dragging decadently against the right places. Her fingers slipped against his back, the hot air bearing down on them, both of them dizzily panting each other’s carbon dioxide. His stubble scraped her cheek as his face slotted in beside hers, the bed creaking beneath them, his breath in her ear. He still had one hand in her hair and the sharp sting of his tight fingers had her gasping in pleasure. He’d held her in place like this once before, when he’d whispered in her ear at the bar. She should have known then that he’d be this bossy in bed. God, she loved it.

“Can you come like this?” he asked her. “With me on top?”

“Sometimes. But usually it’s better if I’m on top.”

She’d barely gotten the sentence out before he was gripping her at her waist and rolling them. She was disoriented for a moment, the room spinning around her while she got her balance against him. She planted her hands at his chest and blinked down at the sight.

“Jeez, you’re hot,” she informed him. He wasn’t cut exactly, but he was strong and extremely well formed. His normal clothes made him look put-together and contained, but looking down at him now, bare chested, Mary was very aware that she had a completely uncivilized man inside of her. She glanced back, saw that his shorts and underwear were still bunched halfway down his legs, and it made her clamp down on him. He hadn’t even been able to wait to get completely naked. Why was that so freaking sexy?

He jutted his hips up under her, his hands tracing her waist, molding her breasts, tangling in her hair, tugging her down for a kiss. “Show me how you like it,” he muttered against her mouth.

She reached up and planted a hand against the wall over his head, bracing herself for the deep grind she started up almost immediately. She took him deep and then deeper. He swore and lifted his head only to bang it back down on the bed. She didn’t bother with putting on a show for him, or with teasing. Mary went straight for the gold. She found herself with her head tipped back toward the ceiling, one hand tangled with one of John’s, bracing her. She clawed at the wall as she grinded her hips back and forth on him, shamelessly using his body for her pleasure.

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