Page 27 of Blind Attraction

She chuckled as he made his way up her body, biting and licking her salty flesh. He couldn’t look into her eyes, not now. Even though she couldn’t see him, he still felt exposed, his heart on his sleeve ready to give to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

He grazed his teeth over her breast. “Don’t tell me that or I’ll never let you go.”

Her lips pressed together in a bashful smile. He reached for the bedside table and retrieved a condom. As he sheathed himself in quick jerks, she ran her nails down his waist, sending goose bumps on a burning trail around his body.

“Mitchell?”

He rested himself between her thighs, nuzzled the base of her neck and inhaled the lingering scent of her perfume. “Mmm?”

“Can we do this differently?”

He leaned back on his arms and peered down at her. “What do you mean?”

Her throat convulsed with a swallow. “Can I be on top?”

He blinked. Were there twenty-four hours in a day? Hell yes. “I think I can accommodate that.”

Clutching her around the waist he switched their positions, rolling them to the edge of the king-size bed and away from the clattering plates. She pushed to her knees and hovered the heat of her sex above his erection.

“I’ve never—”

“I know.” He gripped her hips and ground his length along her slit.

She rose higher allowing him to position the head of his cock at her entrance. Slowly, she lowered onto him, taking him inch after agonizing inch into her tight pussy. He groaned, gripped the headboard, and closed his eyes. He was done for, completely lost to her perfection.

Her hands rested on his pecs as she began to rise and fall. He ground his teeth together, trying not to let the snug grasp on his shaft drive him over the edge. Each undulation tortured him with undiluted pleasure, inching him closer and closer to completion.

“You’re quiet… Am I doing it wrong?”

Fuck. He was Marcel Marceau, unable to get a word out for fear of losing control. He clenched the headboard tighter, sucked in a breath and went to his happy place. “So good, Allie. Don’t stop.”

He needed to touch her, to concentrate on what she needed before he blew the whole ball game. Releasing his talon grip, he opened his eyes and rested his hands on her thighs. Her hips rocked faster at his touch. He slid his hands up her hips, over her waist, and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples between his fingers.

“Oh, yes.” She ground harder, sharper. Her hands reached up to hold his in place and she groaned, her pussy milking him, clenching tighter. Plates clattered, bowls tipped, but he didn’t care.

Her teeth bore into her lower lip and she leaned her head back, riding him like a prized pony. He bucked into her, increasing their pace. “Oh, god, you feel good.” Like fire and silk and heaven.

She touched herself, and he closed his eyes at the erotic image she made. He jerked when her fingers brushed his sac, not expecting the sudden shot of awesome. “Sweetheart, don’t… I’m…I’m almost there.”

A smile tilted her lips but she ignored him and lightly massaged his balls, while the other hand dipped lower to play with her clit.

“Tease.”

She grinned at him, her dimples showing. Damn he wanted that mouth. He sat up, caught her gasp with his lips and sent his tongue in search of hers.

“Ride me,” he demanded with a thrust of his pelvis. The plates on the bed punctuated his movements with a clang.

Her legs moved around his waist and her hands to his face. She sucked on his tongue and complied, her hips retreating then sliding home, retreating then sliding home. He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the way her slick heat glided over his cock. When she broke the kiss, panting into his neck, he gripped her ass in both hands and thrust hard.

Her cry filled the room and her back arched, lifting her breasts close to his face. His balls began to tighten with an impending climax he had no hope of controlling. He lowered his head to her chest, drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.

“Mitchell,” she cried out with release.

His name was the final straw on the house of cards. He groaned, long and loud, jerking up into her body. He ignored the clash of plates and concentrated on Alana. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder, and with each pulse of her pussy, the suction from her lips tightened. He rode out the bursts of rapture, holding her against him, sinking his fingers into her hair.

Gradually the pleasure faded, dissipating until his muscles where heavy and lax. She sighed in his arms, the heaving of their chests slowing. He ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her head, surveying the wreckage covering the other side of the bed. “I think we may have ruined breakfast.”

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