Page 15 of Curves of Steel

Dan frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“This is how it’s supposed to be, isn’t it? When you and another person are matched so perfectly?” I cup one of his cheeks with my palm. “This feels so right. That’s why I’m crying. I feel . . .” I grapple for the right word. “Grateful.”

He leans his head to one side, doubtful. “Grateful?”

“And happy.” I kiss his chest right over where his heart beats.

The worried crease between his eyebrows eases. “I want to make you happy.”

“You are making me happy. And,” I say as I pull his face to mine and nibble on his lower lip, “you’re making me horny.”

His smile turns to a wicked grin. “You make me feel the same way.”

“Horny?” I tease, thrusting my opening up at his low belly so he can feel my wetness.

“And happy. And grateful.”

“I’m glad.” I kiss him, hard this time. “Fuck me?”

“Fuckyes,” he growls.

Dan fumbles with his discarded jeans for a moment, pulling a condom out of the wallet he pulls from a pocket. He rolls it on, lines us up, and then —

We are one. He fills me just right, all hot and thick and hard. He reaches places in my body and my heart that have been neglected for far too long.

My head falls back. My low back arches. A ragged groan tears from my lips.

“Oh my God,” I moan as an orgasm sweeps over me out of nowhere. Dan’s barely been inside me and already I’m falling apart around him, lost in pleasure.

He slides his strong arms beneath my back and clasps me close as I come. “Yes,” he murmurs. “God, you’re exquisite. Come for me, Michelle.”

His words send my climax spiraling higher, my velvet walls pulsing desperately around his shaft. I hold tight to him, my anchor in a beautiful storm.

I begin descending from my peak. I thrust my hips, impaling myself more fully on his cock. “More,” I groan.

Dan doesn’t hesitate. He moves in me, meeting every thrust with a powerful one of his own. His fingers curl up and over my shoulders, holding me tight so he can ram me all the better.

My cries fill the cab around us, and soon his grunting joins them as his movements become stronger, more driving and desperate.

My low belly pools with honeyed sensation.

My skin is on fire, every nerve ending alive like never before.

I slide a hand between us, needing more, and find my clit. I stoke the fires of my own pleasure with my fingers and, a moment later, crash over the crest of another consuming orgasm.

Dan’s grunts turn to cries of his own as his thrusts become more frantic. I dig my fingers into his hips, his ass, encouraging him as I voice my climax.

He’s not far behind me. With a last thrust, he pushes into me harder than ever and collapses, quivering with his own release.

I don’t know how long we lay like this, spent, but together. It doesn’t matter, I discover. All I need is more of this.

More of Dan.

More of feeling myself come alive in new and surprising ways because of the love of another.

Shit. Did I just thinklove? That can’t be what this is . . . can it?

I’m not sure. I thought what I had with Donny was love, and it very much was not.

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