Page 37 of At Last

11.

Caitlin

The moon shines so bright tonight that even with the curtains drawn, they’re sheer enough to allow the blue hue from the moonlight to filter inside the bedroom. Everything is washed in translucent blue. Even me.

Goosebumps prickle my skin when I feel him come up behind me. Not from cold, although he turned the central air on once he closed up the house. But because Jade is asleep in her new, temporary room, and I’m standing in my satin nighty, the color of mauve, in Duke’s bedroom. My new, temporary bedroom.

He runs his fingers up and down my arms, both calming the goosebumps and creating more from his whisper-soft touches.

Who would have ever thought a badass biker could have whisper-soft touches? His hands travel from my arms to the hem of my nighty where he grips the sides and tugs up, stopping just below my navel to gently push against my pelvis, grinding his hardened cock through his jeans against my bottom. I lose all rational thought, my free will gone at the feel of him, and where he hits. I sit, an empty vessel ready to be filled however he wants to fill me.

And I reach up behind me to run my fingers through his hair while he licks and kisses my neck.

As he continues to grind, he dips a finger inside my panties going right for the golden spot. He hits it dead-on, because he means to, and begins the sensual, torturous rub. I was already wet from his grinding and neck kisses, with the way he uses his finger, my sex weeps for him, and I find it hard to stay standing.

“Come on, Doc,” he whispers in my ear, shoving me forward toward the bed. Before I climb on, he pulls the nighty from my body and drags my panties down, kissing the small of my back, my bottom and each thigh before helping me step out of them completely. “Lay down,” he orders, then.

I do, watching him undress all the while. His cut tossed on a chair, the rest of his clothing dropped to the floor. Tonight is the first I really get to look. All that sinewy mass covered in a lifetime of tattoos. The ridges and valleys of a twenty-year-old on a man more than fifteen years older.

I’ve never seen anything like him in such an intimate setting before. Never have I been with a man his size, with his strength.

Duke climbs on the bed, trapping me underneath his powerful body to kiss me again. I already can’t catch my breath.

“Gonna let me fuck you how I want to?” he asks.

I nod because I can’t find my voice.

“Good,” he says and rolls me to my side, where he fits himself the length of my back. If we were sleeping, we’d be spooning.

“On the pill, Doc?”

Over my shoulder, again, I can only nod. Then I watch, mesmerized, as he grips his rock-hard cock and runs it through my wetness several sweeps, then feel the intrusion of the tip inside me. He pulls back and pushes a little more, the whole head stretching me. I might have had a baby, but it’s been several years since I’ve had a man between my legs.

And so I pinch my eyes shut and try to adjust to the feel of him. That’s when he pulls out again, kisses my jaw, and slides back in, giving me more. But he’s teasing now, even if he doesn’t mean to.

Not nearly enough, I need him to give me enough.

“More,” I beg.

“Sure you ready for that?”

My response is to push back against him and repeat, “More. Please.”

To honor my request, Duke moves my top leg over his to open me up more, spreads my opening with his hands and positions himself, then he slams inside me, not a gentle glide, though not rough. Hard. I gasp, as he begins to thrust.

His hand moves to my breast where he rolls the nipple between his fingers.

“More,” I beg louder.

Switching hands, he moves to my opposite breast and begins to roll that nipple. This, after moving his first hand down to between my legs to stroke my golden spot again. The feeling so primal, as if intrinsically downloaded from every coupling since the beginning of mankind.

We move in time together. I jerk my hips back as he thrusts forward. It’s unbelievable. Sex has never felt this good before, and I become greedy, wanting, noneedingmore.

“Harder,” I demand.

He thrusts harder.

Oh hell.

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