Now? Now she knew him, knew his past and his fears; from there it was a short step to hopes and dreams. Now she could give him something she knew he’d gotten from so few people in his life: herself, freely offered.
“Hey,” she whispered. Over his shoulder she could see his back reflected in the big glass windows overlooking the backyard, the breadth of his shoulders, his muscled spine, the twin dimples just above the waistband of his jeans. She reached around and trailed her fingers up the valley of his spine, and watched him shiver, felt his cock pulse in the notch of her thighs.
His next kiss was hot, possessive, and slow enough to seduce Cady into a state of total limp surrender. He cupped her breasts, gently squeezing her nipples; it was her turn to shiver and lift against him.
“Bed? Or here?” he asked, rough, like she had to make a decision now.
“Bed,” she said, remembering the bruises on her lower back, his knees. The energy in the room had shifted from the frantic heat in the car to a tidal pull ebbing and flowing between his body and hers. “Definitely bed. Go slow. I want this to last.”
He groaned, but visibly gathered his control, testing himself as he popped open the button on her jeans and unzipped them. She wriggled from one hip to the other to get them off. They’d just hit the floor when Conn wrapped both of his big pushy arms around her waist. She clung to him as he carried her into the bedroom. Still in his jeans, Conn paused by her nightstand to unclip his holster, cuffs, and badge. He took off her panties; she worked down the zipper on his jeans and stripped him to his beautiful skin. They climbed into bed together, Conn pulling the covers over them both to trap the heat roiling between them.
Braced on one arm above her, he locked eyes with her, trailed his fingers down her sternum, over her belly, and into the folds between her legs. She shuddered, both at the possessive look in his eyes and at the slick heat he found. She reached for his shoulders, then his hips, then wrapped her hands around his wrists, gripping tighter and tighter as his fingertips slid along either side of her clit. She was sensitive, juicy from the teasing friction of rubbing herself against him, and he knew her so well now. In a moment she was digging her fingernails into his wrists and sobbing out her release.
When she relaxed enough to remove her nails from his skin, he was fumbling in her nightstand for a condom. “That wasn’t slow,” she said.
He shot her a quick Conn-grin as he ripped open the packet and sat back on his heels. “If you’re complaining about it, I must have done something wrong,” he said.
“I’m not complaining,” she said. Her hands were trembling as she slid her palms up his hair-rough thighs. “I’m just saying … it wasn’t slow.”
He aligned their bodies and nudged the tip of his cock into her soft, wet entrance. She gasped as the pressure stimulated nerve endings already strung to hypersensitivity. He kissed her, his swollen lips brushing over hers making her aware of yet another place on her body attuned to him. “Again?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a low rumble in the heated cocoon of covers.
She couldn’t think. He was no more than an inch or so inside her, stretching her swollen folds, encouraging her body to open to him and fold around him all at once. She hitched her heels high up on the backs of his thighs and lifted just a little.
“With me, Cady?”
“Yes,” she gasped. The multiple-orgasm thing usually eluded her, and she considered it a courtesy if her partner didn’t pound away for fifteen or twenty minutes afterward. Maybe she just hadn’t waited long enough. Maybe she’d been with the wrong man. “Oh, yes?”
He gave her a little more, just enough for her body to take notice. His thrusts were shallow, slow, in rhythm to the hot way his tongue slid against hers. Gold wires of sensation tendriled through her body, then, as he slid all the way inside, drew taut. He was careful not to grind against her sensitive clit, instead taking his weight on his elbows and kissing her, again and again, so possessively and thoroughly she forgot what it was like to not touch him.
Hot honey poured along her nerves with each thrust, sweet and sticky and just rough enough to make her tremble. Sensation swamped her from all sides, but mostly from the energy pouring from Conn’s body over hers. She opened to it, became the reservoir for it, offered it back to him with each lift of her hips, each welcoming lick or nip along his jaw.
He tore his mouth from hers and let his head roll against the pillow. “Fuck. Cady. Just … fuck.”
“I know,” she gasped. He was so hard inside her, sweat slicking the contact between their bodies. “I can … I think I can…”
“Yeah,” he said. “Fuck, yeah. Do it.”