Page 108 of Sloth
“Was from a piece of shrapnel from an IED.”
“And this?” She let her finger feather down to his belly button, where the hair tried, but failed to cover a round puckered scar. Not quite the shape of a bullet wound.
“Screwdriver.”
“Someone attacked you with a screwdriver?” Then a fierce frown tightened her brow. “Was it Daisy? I’ll mess her up if it was.”
“No.” He gave her a sheepish smile. “Daisy surprisingly never went for permanent damage. She only beat me in a way that looked worse than it was. I fell onto a screwdriver when I was putting together some Ikea furniture back in Australia.”
She snorted and he laughed too. It was enough to break through the tension. Enough to relax her shoulders and draw attention to the hot male specimen, reclined before her. Her man was ripped. A body carved from rock. All ropy muscle and strength. His eyes, bright and filled with lust, watched her with intense heat.
“I have to say.” She scraped her nails lightly down his front. “I think you look better in real life than on video.”
“The view from here is bloody good, too. In fact, it’s like a dream.”
He kept going back there, back to his fantasy, and it worried her. She climbed up him until her hips met his. “Stop it. I’m very real, I can assure you.” To make her point, she rocked her pelvis into his until he threw his head back on the mattress with a long, drawn out groan, fingers digging into her hips.
“Bloody hell. Keep doing that.”
This was one feeling she’d never box up. She wanted it fresh and vivid. She grabbed hold of his shorts, only to tug them down his thighs recklessly before getting completely naked herself.
He watched with avid fascination, eyes like hot skewers burning right though her. No one had ever looked at her like that. Never. Only Max.
Flattening her body against his, she went in for a slow, languid kiss, melding their tongues together with hot, erotic strokes.
And, oh, it was good.
He tasted incredible.
He grabbed her thighs and positioned her with rough confidence until her core met his erection. Sparks ignited. Sensations bloomed. He was hard, so hard, and his ridge rubbed her in exactly the right way. He moaned and thrust upward, only the thin fabric of his briefs blocking their most intimate parts. She was damp, and he could feel it. But instead of going there, his fingers tangled through her wet hair while his tongue rolled against hers, savoring her taste. Then their bodies rolled—him on top, then her—until he broke free and kissed down her neck, to her ear, to her shoulder. He explored her body with his mouth, scratchy stubble, and expert hands. Confident hands. He knew exactly how to touch her, where to touch her, and it was fucking fantastic. Better than any game.
Stupid iPads. What had she been thinking?
Sitting up, they ended with her on his lap and him bracing her back with his hands. She almost passed out with pleasure when his tongue traced a pattern in the dip of her neck... and he hadn’t even touched her where it counted.
Oh God. Where did it count?
Back down her front, he took her nipple into his mouth.
Yep. There. It counted there.
“Oh, shit. Keep doing that with your tongue,” she gasped, arching into him.
He twirled and whirled until her limbs went liquid. She couldn’t hold herself upright any longer, and he switched their positions so they were back on the mattress, and he was on top, in control. He took his pleasure all over her body, learning each inch of skin, each shiver of desire, and every desperate and embarrassing sound she made. She had the sense he was storing up the details, saving them, and it made her sad.
“Hey.” She lifted his head to hers, locking fevered eyes. “There will be more times. Plenty.”
“I know, I just…”
“Stop holding back. Just fuck me.” She let the floodgates of her lust open and speared her desire into him. “I’m ready, Max.”
His eyes glassed over as the sensation hit his system and he growled, nudging his hips into hers. “I brought protection this time.”
“We don’t need it anymore. I went on contraception while you were recovering.”
He didn’t wait for anything else. He dug his hand into his briefs, tugged them down half over his ass and pulled himself free. She widened her legs, giving him access, and then in a slow, torturous move, he entered her.
Fully sheathed in her, he lowered until the weight of his body crowded her. He clutched her head so she had nowhere to look but his scorching hot eyes. Then he pulled out, and in. Over and over again, he plunged, hitting her sweet spot, watching her reaction, soaking it all in. And, as she came alive, as the sweet pressure of bliss built inside, he knew. She let him feel it. His rising fever echoed in her soul with each, urgent movement until they came apart together, at the same time.
