Page 37 of Clay

He took care of the rest of her clothes, unhooking her bra with practiced fingers.

“Good at that, aren’t you?” she murmured as she stroked a finger down his chest, tweaked a nipple and watched him jolt in response.

“I believe that practice makes perfect,” he said very solemnly, then slid down her body, his mouth hot on her belly, her thighs, and then her core. “And I intend to practice on you until I get it absolutely right,” he murmured against her skin. “Now hold on.” His voice had gone from that dreamy drawl to a sharp order that had her fisting her hands in the silky sheets.

He mapped her with his tongue, hitting everywhere but where she needed him to be. Frustration coiled within her as she rose to her elbows and looked down at the unbelievably erotic sight of him teasing her.

“Clay,” she growled, though it was ruined by the breathless way she ended it when he smiled up at her, his eyes dancing.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, his breath ghosting over her clit, making her jump, then grind against him.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” she accused on a whisper, then fell onto her back when he suctioned onto her clit, and drove her to a hard, fast peak.

She was still contemplating if she really needed to breathe.Did she? Really?when he loomed over her, his cock sheathed in a condom. She had a brief moment to wonder how she’d missed that whole show, and then he was sliding into her, his mouth hot on hers, and she decided breathing was definitely overrated.

~

Ivy was everything he’d never dreamed he’d needed. Soft, supple, hot, demanding. One hundred percent focused on him. On them. On the exquisite sensations as he moved within her, his dick impossibly hard, her body sensually accepting him, then demanding more as she met him thrust for thrust.

He kissed her deep as he drove into her, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock as he fucked her long and slow and deep.

She writhed beneath him, crying out for more, for harder, faster. And still he tortured them, just as he had when he’d lost himself in her pussy.

Pure, decadent heat began to gather low in his back and he increased the pace and reached down, caressing her clit as he pounded into her, as he plundered her mouth, his body weight balanced on one arm.

And then she was splintering apart beneath him, her heels digging into his ass, her short nails clawing at his back.

He detonated, there was no other word for it, and heard himself roar in satisfaction and a claiming.

He rolled with the last of his strength, pulled her on top of him and reached for the sheet. “You’re amazing,” he whispered in her ear, cradling her in his arms as sleep took him under.

~

Ivy stretched, every muscle in her body humming with a pleasant, well-used ache. Clay had proven to be an inventive lover throughout the night with a stamina that had wasted both of them. Multiple times.

He stirred beside her at her movement, eyes sleepy, expression sated.

This was a Clay she hadn’t seen before. Last night he’d been an amazing lover, and before that, a commanding presence as he ensured her safety. In both cases he’d been the one calling the shots, directing their actions.

But now he was open, truly unguarded for the first time. Vulnerable, though she doubted he’d appreciate the observation. So instead of making it weird, she reached out, trailed a hand down his cheek.

“Good mornin’,” he rumbled as he turned on his side so he could focus on her. His accent peeked through.

“Good morning,” she replied with a smile, leaving her hand on his cheek. “I love your accent," she said.

He stiffened just slightly, and she wondered what she’d said that had put him on guard. Then he relaxed. “It’s not something people usually notice. I worked really hard to lose it.”

“Well, I like it,” she said, then moved her fingers down to lay over his heart. “Especially when you’re talking dirty.” She teased, trying to get them back to where they’d been.

He smiled, as she’d intended, and leaned in for a kiss that was long and slow and loaded with promise. Then he pulled back. Considered her with a searching expression. Whatever conclusion he came to must have been in her favor because he eased back on an elbow.

“I grew up in Georgia,” he said.

Ivy kept her expression perfectly neutral, not willing to break the spell. She wanted, no needed, to know him. To know everything she possibly could about him.

“My father was in the Army and met my mom when he was stationed in Korea. I was their only child. Connor’s a drinker, always was, and it got worse after Mom died. Nonna Sally moved in then. She was his mother and taught me how to be a man in a way he never could have. Never even tried to.”

She saw the hesitancy on his face as he said the words, then regret that he’d even said them.

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