It felt so right to surrender to what she was making with him. For a long, charged moment she stared at him, wondering if he felt the same thing she did, that storm surge inside that usually meant songs were coming. Right now she wasn’t sure what it meant, but she trusted it, trusted her body. Trusted Conn.
Wondering if she’d broken the spell, she leaned back a little, resuming their original positions, making space for Conn to have what he wanted to have. Time paused while he hesitated. She darted forward and nipped his lower lip. He growled, low in his throat, and kissed her, hot, possessive, licking into her mouth, obviously determined to switch gears to fast and furious. Panting, she tore her mouth away and rested her forehead on his, then gently kissed the tender corner of his mouth, coaxing him to stay here, with her. The stubble scraped against her lips, now swollen and sensitive. Then she lifted her head, recreating the hair’s breadth of space between their mouths, and waited.
A shuddering exhale, then tension ebbed from his muscles and he picked up where he’d left off the first time, brushing his mouth back and forth over hers, stimulating delicate nerves to hyperawareness. She breathed out, soft and slow, and consciously relaxed. Without the driving desire her body softened, allowing her to feel the heat building in her core, her nipples, tight and hot despite the steam, the growing ache in her belly.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted her bottom on the seat. Intense vulnerability shifted, strengthened, transformed into intense need as her body made known how desperately it wanted contact with his. All that hard, hot strength was within reach and yet so far away. He put one hand on her hip and pressed into her abdomen with his thumb, making her clit pulse and emphasizing the ache in her core. She circled her hips under his hand, the pressure frustratingly unsatisfying, but more than she had before.
“Give me something,” she demanded, so he gave her his mouth, his kiss blatantly, possessively mimicking sex, doing nothing to assuage the ache inside her. When she moaned, then nipped at his lower lip, he gave a soft rumble of a laugh, tightened his hands on her hips, and pulled her forward.
Caught off guard, her eyes flew open to find him gazing at her, heavy-lidded. He leaned forward and braced his arms at the elbow under her back, flattened palms supporting her upper body weight. Her skin was heat-reddened, the color similar to the flush standing high on Conn’s cheekbones. It wasn’t from the steam, but from the heat simmering between them. Still looking at her, he bent to her nipple and licked off the moisture collected on each hard tip. Cady’s eyes closed again.
“Too much?” he asked.
She trembled at the rough scrap of his stubble over her soft flesh, then said, “I don’t want to miss anything. Looking is distracting.”
She didn’t need to see him worshipping her body, the sounds and sensations told her everything she needed to know about his body position, and how turned on he was. The flat of his tongue against her nipple, then pointed to circle it, then the sharp edge of his teeth, gentle pressure tightening until she gasped from the sharp, hot flare of desire in her sex. The whispering pulse of steam from the jets, the prickling sensation of sweat blooming on her skin, her soft noises, his rougher ones, music in the sultry air.
When his mouth trailed down her abdomen, she broke rhythm by whimpering bereftly, then felt his chuckle against her skin when she lifted her legs and braced them on his thighs to give him better access. His mouth paused at the top of her sex, then one hand slipped under her bottom. A moment of breathless anticipation, during which she quivered like a guitar string, then his tongue circled her clit at the same time two fingers circled her soft opening.
It was hot, sweet torture, waiting while he opened her by infinitesimal increments, teasing, pushing, retreating to circle again, then dipping deeper. Her hands clutched at his shoulder and nape. Unable to get a grip on sweaty skin stretched taut over hard muscles, she slid her fingers into his hair and pulled tight.
Her reward for this pushy move was his fingers, deep enough to graze the aching bundle of nerves inside her sheath. Sweet heat zinged through her body and she moaned again, not stopping while he ruthlessly, implacably used the pressure of his fingertips and tongue to draw her climax from her. The steam hardly muffled her short, sharp cries.
“I’ve never done that in here before,” she said when she regained her words.
“Come on,” he said, his eyes flashing blue-gray through his damp lashes. “Really?”
“Never with another person,” she amended.
He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “You’ve owned the house how long?”
“Fair point,” she conceded. She leaned forward so their foreheads touched. “Don’t stop now.”
He opened the condom package, now softened by the steamy heat, and rolled the latex down his shaft, their heads bent together so she could stroke his nape.