“That’s going to have to wait,” he said, and reached for her sleep pants.
Everything came off at once, pants, panties, and the thick socks she wore to bed. He opened the condom and rolled it down his shaft, then studied her for a second, his face unreadable.
She was small, blessed with a frankly skinny build and the ability to eat pretty much whatever she wanted as long as she stuck to some kind of workout routine. She’d lost weight on tour, too active to stomach junk food, and bored with hotel food. She was built like a tween girl, and she knew it.
Conn seemed to come to some kind of conclusion. “Okay if we try it like this?” he asked, guiding her to face the headboard.
“Um, okay,” she said, trying to get with his program, shifting gears from a fairly intense desire to get pounded into the mattress to whatever he had in mind.
“Give it a minute, and if you don’t like it, we’ll change it up.”
The rough, sandy swirl of his voice in her ear, sending goose bumps down her nape, loosened her spine. She let him position her on her knees with her arms against the wall. He swept her hair over her shoulder, kissed her nape, and slid his fingers into her folds.
She was ready, really ready, swollen and slick, but he didn’t rush, gently circling her clit until she quivered and gasped. Then he knee-walked closer to her, aligned his hips with hers, and nudged the tip of his cock into place, sliding in an inch. She went rigid. What had been a very nice handful only a minute before now stretched her sharply.
“Easy,” he murmured, and stopped moving. “Take it when you’re ready.”
He waited patiently, teasingly stroking her clit while his other hand brushed over her jaw, stroking her lips, then wound into her hair. She closed her eyes and focused on her pounding heart, the stinging sensation just inside her sex, the way it was fading into a more generalized ache. Experimentally she wriggled her hips, taking another inch or two of his length. His abdomen was hot and bare against her bottom, his rough thighs holding hers open, and she was well on her way to losing her vocabulary, just as he’d promised.
The slow, light circles around her clit made her want to move. The thick pressure of his cock inside her made her want to open to him, to take as much as she could. Freed from the restraining pressure of his chest she could now breathe, except she couldn’t. Finally she had the full length of him inside her. She lifted her body so only the tip held her open, then slid back down and cried out as he seated even more deeply inside her.
Again. With this stroke his fingers tightened in her hair; he was breathing short and sharp, forcing it to even out while his fingers relaxed a bit and the arm around her waist loosened its grip just a little.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” She adjusted her arms on the wall and did it again, beyond desperate. “You,” she gasped. “You move, too.”
The first stroke made her head drop back. Involuntarily she spread her knees and tipped her hips back, her body’s demanding plea for more, more, more. He set a slow rhythm, once again surprising her. She’d figured him for a hard and fast man, but he held back, the muscles in his forearms quivering with the restraint, and matched every thrust with attention to her clit, sweet, secret circles that sent her into whiteout overload. She let her head drop between her forearms and stopped caring what kinds of sounds she was making because it was good, so incredibly good. Soles-of-her-feet-on-fire good. His hips slapped against her bottom with every thrust, the sound sharp and lurid in the darkness.
Between one moment and the next her orgasm went from possible to certain, her entire body quivering as she flattened her palm on the wall and pushed back into his thrusts. Then she was there, there, buried under collapsing panes of white noise as the spasms wracked her body. He thrust through it, still slow, still measured, drawing out her pleasure until she shuddered in his arms.
“Oh, God,” she said in a voice completely unlike her own.
“Hold on,” he said.
The arm around her waist tightened. The other slid under her arm to grip her opposite shoulder. He thrust deep and hard and steady, setting satiated nerves alight once again. She reached back blindly and clasped the sweat-damp hair at his nape, gasping from the impact of his body into hers. When he came she cried out, his pleasure eddying from his muscles, through her skin, into her bones.
They panted together for a few moments, then he pulled out, steadying her until her leg muscles stopped quivering. “You okay?”
“Great,” she said. “Never been better.” She was halfway down the long silk slide into sleep. All she’d wanted was release, something to wear down her edginess. Instead she got something surprising. Hotter. Mind blowing.
Complicated. Not what she expected.
The last thing she remembered was the bed dipping when he got out of it, and the covers drawing up to her chin as if by magic. Then, nothing.
CHAPTER SIX