Page 55 of Single-Minded
“Jesus, you feel like heaven,” West said, sliding out, pushing back in, stretching me in the most delicious way.
With one hand holding my hip, he slid his other one up to my nipple, working it between his fingers, pinching it, kneading my breast, then tending to the other one as his thrusts intensified, driving my need incredibly higher.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he said roughly as he rutted into me like I’d never been rutted into before.
Sweet mother of Mary, I’d been missing out with those sedate, suit-wearing guys.
When he touched my clit again, I gasped and seemed to lose all control of my body as I came apart into a jillion pieces, trusting him to put me back together.
As I became conscious of things like breathing again, West held me tightly to him as he continued to thrust into me, swearing with one final push as he came. I leaned back into him, contracting around him, still coming down from my own orgasm.
Both of us were panting, neither of us speaking. I couldn’t form thoughts, let alone put them into words. I could only feel as periodic shudders continued to grip me.
I collapsed forward onto the mattress, spent, sated, mind honest-to-God blown. I’d never had sex like that before. Never felt anything close to the raw, uncontrolled coming together that had been one hundred percent primitive.
It was suddenly clear that all I’d had before today was civilized sex. Gentlemanly sex.
It turned out I was a big fan of West’s ungentlemanly, uncivilized banging. Holy hell, it was an out-of-mind experience. I wanted more of that.
Eventually.
Right now I was spent. Sprawled at an awkward angle, half on my front, half on my side, boneless, like a bowl full of Jell-O.
West stretched out over me, most of his weight on the mattress, his chest to my back, our bodies damp with sweat, his hand enveloping mine as someone’s heart pounded. I couldn’t tell if it was mine, his, or both.
He brushed my hair off my face and kissed my cheek, such a gentle move after what we’d just shared.
“You okay?” he asked, which was a fair question as I still hadn’t moved.
“I’m good,” I purred. I shifted around to face him, snuggling into his chest, tucking my knee between his legs so we were twisted together like a pretzel. “You?”
He let out a low, sexy laugh. “Do you even have to ask? I physically can’t get this grin off my face.”
“It looks good on you.”
“You look good on me.”
I laughed. Then our lips met in lazy, unhurried kisses.
“I need to take care of the condom,” he said eventually.
I nodded, and he rolled out of bed. The bathroom door closed, taking with it the only illumination in the room. I sat up and moved to the edge of the mattress, lowering my feet to the floor, unsure what was next.
He didn’t plan to stay all night, did he?
I might be up for round two—or orgasm four, depending on how you tracked it—but I wasn’t used to having a guy sleep over. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that kind of closeness. Wasn’t sure I’d ever be. That’s just who I was—used to having my own space, not to mention the whole bed to myself.
As I was trying to figure out how to address it, West came out of the bathroom and sat next to me.
“My mom’s bringing the girls home bright and early,” he said, his hand on my thigh. “I’m gonna take my leave now so both of us can get some sleep.”
I felt my shoulders relax as I nodded. “Of course. I’m not sure how good of a sleeping partner I’d be anyway.”
He breathed out as if he’d been worried I wanted him to stay. Cradling the back of my head, he landed a kiss on my lips, picked up his pants and wallet, then went into the bathroom to get the rest of his clothes.
I grabbed my silky wrap and pulled it around me. When I looked up, West was watching me.
“I wondered what you wore under that,” he said in a gravelly voice as he came back in, pulling his shirt down.
