Page 79 of Paging Dr. Breakup
Waited some more.
“Oh my gosh. Come here now!” she insisted, reaching for him.
He remained out of reach, biting his thumb as he gazed over her, his eyes darkened.
Her limbs were askew on the bed, legs splayed. Deirdre had no desire to hide from him. She trusted Calvin.
Always had.
His low voice sent chills over her hypersensitive nerves. “This last week, I missed you. I missed this. I almost missed so much more.” He crawled toward her on the bed, easing her legs open with his knees and pressing his warm palm against her mound. “When I think about what I almost lost. What I almost never had.”
She groaned. “How about what you’re not going to get if you don’t hurry up.”
He pulled his head back. “Are you giving me an order?”
“You’re off the clock.” She strained her hips toward him, but he held her still. “Yes.” She gasped. “That’s an order.”
With a shake of his head, he shrugged. “My concussion makes it hard to compute.”
Sitting straight up, she leaned forward and wrapped her hand around his erect penis. “Feeling cognitively intact now?”
“Alert and oriented,” he said between a clamped jaw. “Damn it. You’re killing me.” He rocked into her hand.
“Good.” She squeezed gently until his eyes rolled back. “You. Me. Now.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They tumbled back on the bed together, Calvin bracketing her body with his long arms and legs in the most sensual of prisons. He slowly flexed his torso, and they groaned together at the hot skin-to-skin friction. It wasn’t enough. She was still incomplete.
He reached down to cup her pulsing, hot flesh and she ground against his hand, frantic to relieve the building pressure. Foreplay was fine, but tonight she craved immediate connection. Reassurance that he was here, with her.
“Calvin.”
In a flash, he stood and sheathed himself with a condom, then knelt again, teasing her entrance and spreading her wet arousal over his tip. She squirmed, needing him inside of her.
He slid home in one long, slow move. Then he held still, filling her completely. Not moving his hips but simply remaining connected deep inside of her, he cupped his hands around her head, kissing her deeply. The strokes of his tongue filled her, mirroring how he completed her elsewhere. Her nerves quivered. Every muscle tensed and released, chasing more friction and movement.
She gripped his forearms and held on tight.
He was so real. So alive. So much a part of her heart and body.
With another deep kiss, he growled and flexed his hips in strong, looping movements.
Every controlled but relentless stroke drove him deeper into her. Filled her in a way she had never quite experienced before.
She gazed up at him in the brief moments when he lifted his head to breathe between kisses. His intense gray gaze met hers.
“Deirdre, this is—I—” He sounded as if the words were ripped out of him.
Lifting her head to kiss him, she gasped. “I know. You’re—oh, God.”
At the end of each stroke, he ground against her, lighting up nerve endings. Pushing her higher and higher.
“Calvin.” She pulled him tightly against her and lifted her ankles to his hips.
He groaned with each thrust, and she echoed him, their cries rising until she exploded around him with a soul-deep climax that went on and on.
“Deirdre!” He followed her over the edge, driving with short, hard movements that amplified her body’s responses.
