Page 35 of False Assumptions

Starting at her ankles, he ran his hands up her legs, light enough that his callouses almost tickled, making her shiver at the sensation. When he stretched himself over her again, his jeans scraped along her legs. He lowered his head to kiss her, but she turned at the last second. “If I’m naked, you have to be too.”

He pulled back and grinned at her, going up on his knees to undo his belt and pants, shoving his jeans and boxer briefs down as quickly as he had hers, his erection popping out like a jack-in-the-box.

Before he kicked everything off, he retrieved his wallet from a pocket and got out a little square packet. Rolling on the condom, he laid himself over her again, his hands bracketing her head, his cock resting hot and hard on her hip. But he didn’t make any move to do anything but kiss her, his hard chest pressing into her breasts, his hands tangled in her hair holding her head in place. His tongue made slow strokes against hers and his teeth nipped at her lower lip, stoking the heat he’d ignited with his first kiss.

Her hands roamed over his shoulders, down his arms, along his sides, up the muscles of his back. She tried to pull him against her more, but he held himself steady. Lifting her hips, she rubbed against him, moving her legs wider, trying to encourage him where she wanted.

He pulled back and gazed down at her, his eyes liquid with desire. “Ready?”

At her nod, his knees moved, spreading her legs further, his cock finding her entrance, sinking in just enough so she felt the stretch. Pulling back, he sank in again, a little more this time, repeating the action until his hips rested against hers, all of him inside her. He held still, kissing her again, not moving until she pressed her hips up again, growing restless at his constant delays. She wanted to feel him moving inside her. Now.

Her legs slid along his thighs as she planted her feet on the bed, lifting up to get some friction. His hips answered, sliding back and then pressing forward again. Slowly. So agonizingly slowly.

“Evan, please.”

“What do you want, Layla?”

Their mouths were still almost touching, their breath mingling when they spoke, but he’d pulled back far enough that she could see his face without going cross-eyed. She moved her hips against him again, trying to urge him to go faster. “I want you to move.”

He repeated his earlier slow slide and thrust. “Like that?”

“No. Faster. Harder.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t know how long I’ll last like that. You feel so good, and I’m making myself go slow to last longer.” He thrust harder once, as though to prove a point.

She shook her head. “I don’t care. I don’t—you’re driving me crazy. I want to feel you move inside me. Not just tease me like this.”

He gave her a wicked grin. “I think I like driving you a little crazy. Especially if it means you’re begging me to fuck you.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a gasp, because he started fucking her. And he didn’t hold anything back. He kept the pace slow at first, each stroke hard and punishing. She kept up with him, moving her hips up to meet his. But soon he moved faster and faster, and all she could do was take it, her legs wrapped around his waist, holding on while he pounded into her. At one point he slipped a hand between them, his thumb grinding into her clit, sending her closer to the edge.

His mouth a firm line, his hips started losing their rhythm. “Christ, Layla. I can’t—I’m gonna come. You’re so fucking tight. I’m gonna—“ He slammed into her, his body shuddering as he came.

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