Page 77 of Midnight Enemy

“Ahhh… please say that’s it…”

“One more inch…” He withdraws, then moves forward with a groan as he sinks into me. “Fuck me, you’re tight…” Finally, he stops, his hips flush with mine. “That’s it, baby girl. That’s all of me. Good girl.” I open my eyes and look up at him. His eyes catch the moonlight, blazing with desire. “This is where the fun starts,” he says, and begins to move.

He lowers down and kisses me, and I wrap myself around him, enjoying being so close to him, and having him inside me in the most intimate way a woman can have a man. My hands roam over him almost of their own accord, feeling the way his muscles move, the smoothness of his skin. I brush my thumb over his Adam’s apple, then draw my hands across his broad shoulders and down his chest, feeling the hairs there beneath my fingers before circling around to his back and down to his butt. His muscles tighten as he thrusts, and he grunts when I dig my fingers into them.

Sometimes I’ve wondered why people seem so obsessed with sex, but I can totally understand now. If I was married to a guy like this, I’d want to do it all day every day.

“You feel amazing,” he murmurs, cupping my breast and lowering his head to suck my nipple. “You’re so soft all over, so incredibly beautiful.”

Flattered, I sink my hand into his hair, then clutch my fingers and gasp as he sucks extra hard. He laughs and, lifting up, withdraws, holding onto the condom.

I’m disappointed and go to complain, but he rolls onto his back, then pulls me on top of him. “Sit up,” he says. “You do it this time.”

Ooh, he wants me on top. I straddle him, move a hand down, and guide him to my entrance. Then I push down a little. Mmm… I tip my head back and close my eyes, loving the sensation of him entering me so slowly. I let out a breath, trying to relax, and this time it’s easier, taking only a couple of thrusts for him to slide all the way in.

He rests his hands on my hips and watches me, his eyelids falling to half-mast. “That feels so fucking good.”

I slide my hand beneath me, feeling where our bodies are flush. “Mmm.”

“Can you take your hair down?” he asks softly.

Surprised, I lift my hands to my bun, release the clips holding it in place, and lean over to put them on the bedside table. When I sit back up, I watch him observing me as I unravel the strands and let them tumble around my shoulders. He cups my breasts, his gaze drifting to them. Ohhh… He likes watching me. Keeping my hands on my hair, I start to move, learning how to rock my hips to drive him in and out of me. He watches, teasing my nipples with his thumbs and forefingers, and I close my eyes and tip my head back again, liking the sensual feel of my hair tumbling down my back.

“Do you like being on top?” he asks, tugging my nipples once, twice, then a harder third time.

“Ooh.” I clench around him and he laughs, so I take his hands in mine and pin them above his head. “It has its advantages.”

He flexes his fingers in mine, his lust-filled gaze watching me as I move. I like this, being able to set the pace. I love the way his biceps bulge, and how strong the muscles in his shoulders and chest look. And I was right—the cool tones of my light-brown skin looking amazing against the warm tones of his tanned body.

Without warning, he lifts up, surprising me, making it quite clear that he was only playing at being restrained. Still holding my hands, he moves my arms behind my back and holds them with one hand, then cups a breast and lowers his mouth to it. I arch my back, shocked at the ease of his movements, and unable to catch my breath as he sucks. My head tips back, and I move my hips, moaning at the feel of him so big inside me.

“Scarlett,” he murmurs, kissing up my neck, then bringing my head down to kiss me. His mouth slants across mine, hot and demanding, his tongue tangling with mine, and I feel myself begin to spiral out of control.

“Not enough,” he says mysteriously and, holding me around the waist, he somehow turns, flipping me onto my back again. He kisses me again, lifting my legs to wrap them around his waist, and I realize it enables him to go deeper inside me. He pushes his hips forward, stretching me, and I groan at the sensation of being speared to the mattress.

“Too much?” he says, easing back.

“I’m never going to be able to walk again.”

He just laughs and kisses my throat hungrily, big wet kisses, sucking slightly at the point where my pulse beats, as if he wants to feel the way my heart’s pounding.

I moan, and he groans and thrusts harder. “You’re driving me crazy,” he says in my ear, his voice husky with desire.

“Mmm…”

He lifts up, still moving inside me, leaning on one hand, and brushing his other hand up my thigh, up my body, over my breast, and down my arm, before taking my hand in his. He links our fingers, and for some bizarre reason that feels even more intimate than everything else that’s happening. I look at our joined hands, then up into his eyes, and experience the electric jolt I often get with him, a zap to my nerve endings all the way through my body that makes my lips part as I inhale sharply.

Moving my hands above my head, he holds them there by my wrists and kisses me hard as he thrusts. Oh my… He must have changed the angle somehow because he’s grinding against my clit now, arousing me with every rock of his hips… Being held like this makes me feel as if I have no say in my own pleasure—he’s going to drive me to the edge regardless of whether I want to go there or not…

I moan against his lips, and he says, “I love the way you tell me what you like,” as he kisses down my neck.

“Oh that’s so good,” I whisper, feeling the first tingling of an orgasm way off in the distance. “Don’t stop…”

“No problem there,” he mutters, thrusting hard. “Fuck. You feel amazing.”

“Mmm… Orson…”

“Ahhh, baby girl… you’re so soft… and wet for me. Are you going to come?”

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