Page 109 of Along Came Amor
Ava slid back down his body, kissing him as she settled onto his lap. He delved his tongue between her lips, fucking her mouth like he wanted to fuck her with his body, before pulling back.
“You taste yourself on me?” he rasped. When she nodded, he said, “One of these days, I’m going to taste myself on you.”
He could tell that surprised her, but from the way her lips parted and her eyelids lowered, she liked the idea.
Good. For all her talk of barriers, she’d soon find out he had not a single one where she was concerned.
With a rough exhale, she slid her wet folds over his cock, making them both groan. He muttered obscenities in English and Spanish as she reached between them, angling his dick upward, but he didn’t release his grip on the wicker rim. Not even when she notched him against her slit and sank down.
As her slick warmth enveloped him, he stuttered out an oath that came from the depths of his being. Even though she was wet, it was a tight fit, and she had to work herself onto him. By the time she was fully seated, he was beside himself, nearly mindless with need, sweating and panting and cursing a blue streak.
But his hands remained firmly fixed where she’d placed them, and he did not let go.
In that moment, Roman’s life was complete. There was not a single other thing he wanted in this world other than this woman, this connection, for the rest of his days.
I love you, he thought, gazing into her eyes.I love you so fucking much, it’s killing me not to say it.
Her hands stroked over his hair, his shoulders, his chest in soothing movements, almost like she was petting him, almost like sheknewhe wanted to tell her.
And then she planted her hands on his stomach and began to move.
She rocked on top of him, first keeping a slow and steady rhythm, then faster and more frantic as Roman rolled his hips to fuck upward into her. With a sobbing gasp, her nails dug into his skin, and then she reared back. Her hand snaked up his chest and she slid her fingertips into his mouth. He moaned as he sucked them, scraping the sensitive pads with his teeth, swirling his tongue over the edges of her neatly manicured nails. Her eyes were dazed with lust as she brought her hand, now wet with his saliva, to her clit. Praise fell from her lips—he was such a good boy, he fucked her so good, just like that,perfect—and he responded with his own endearments—his goddess, his life, his love, hisAva.
She touched herself as she rode him, and with her other hand, she pinched and twisted her own nipples. Desire suffused her features and flushed her cheeks red, and he thought she’d never looked more magnificent, more powerful, than she was like this, taking her pleasure and trusting him to let her.
When her inner walls fluttered around him, he clenched his jaw to hold back his own orgasm and thrust into her—harder, faster,now—and then she was crying out, shuddering on top of him, her lashes falling to cover her clouded hazel gaze.
Her hips slowed and she braced her wobbly arms on his chest, holding herself up. Her curls fell over her shoulders and around her face as she hung her head, trying to catch her breath.
He felt her pulsing around him and though he didn’t touch her, he begged.
“Ava,por favor,” he pleaded. “Let me touch you. Please, my love, I need to, I need...”
He trailed off when she raised her head. She always looked a little disoriented after she came hard, and while the sight of her blank, blinking eyes filled him with pride, he was wound too tight to wait any longer.
She stroked her fingers—the ones that had just been rubbing her clit—down his cheek. “You’ll be good?”
“So fucking good,” he promised.
She touched his hands where they were white-knuckled on the bed. “All right,” she said softly. “You can let go.”
And he fucking did.
Grabbing her ass, he rolled them into the mountain of cushions. Her strong thighs locked around his hips as he rose up over her. This time, when he gripped the back of the bed, it was for leverage. Gazing down at her, he thought,I love you. And then he began to pound.
There was no finesse, no rhythm, no checking in. There was just heat and sweat and grunting—him—and cries of pleasure—her. There was the bite of her nails digging into the flesh of his ass, the bruising press of her heels on the backs of his thighs, the sweet friction of her channel clenching around him.
Through it all, her gaze remained locked on his.
He was lost, utterly fucking lost over this woman. Love for her overwhelmed him, spiraling with the fierce arousal pumping through his veins, magnifying this experience to something he’d never imagined.
But he couldn’t do this alone. Not without her. Never again without her.
He stuck his hand between them, working it between their damp, heated bodies, and found her clit with his thumb. Hermouth fell open and her lashes fluttered as he stroked her, inside and out.
“Come with me, mi amor,” he panted, begged, demanded. “Don’t leave me alone.”
The words didn’t make sense but she nodded anyway. Her hands dove into his hair, clutching it in fistfuls, as she brought their mouths together. She moaned into their kiss with each of his thrusts. He knew her sounds as surely as the familiar rhythm of his own heartbeat, and he knew when she was close. He sped up his touch, deepened his strokes, and let go of the reins on his own control.
