Need for him throbbed low in her body. She pulled at his shirt until the buttons scattered across the floor then ran her hands hungrily across his hard, lean chest. He snaked an arm around her and yanked her against him, until they were hip to hip. As she felt the full length of his erection against her pelvis, she made an animal noise and rubbed against him.
Still kissing her, he pushed her, back and back, and she obeyed blindly until she came up against the table. He nudged her to sit and he tore off the rest of her clothes while she yanked his trousers open and reached greedily for his penis. It was hard, thick and beautifully made, silken skin stretched over stiffened flesh. Staring at his face, she fingered the length of his cock and stroked him, while he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He pushed at her hands with his hips, and she pumped him slowly, losing herself in the moment of giving him pleasure.
His voice turned guttural, he said, “Stop.”
She muttered a protest as he pulled out of her grip, and she reached for him again, but he brushed her seeking hands out of the way and pushed her back onto the table. Once she understood what he wanted, she lay back, her spine arched and torso stretched out on display for him as her legs spilled over the edge.
He froze, one hand planted on the table beside her waist, breathing hard as he stared down at her. Some strong emotion played over his face. Worried, she reached up to touch his lips. “What is it?”
He whispered from the back of his throat, “It just happened again. You’re even lovelier than ever.”
She could tell there was no barrier in him anywhere. He looked at her, totally bared and open, and she knew what he meant, for he had never looked so beautiful to her. She murmured, “Come inside.”
He shook his head. “Not yet. Soon.”
He came down over her, resting his weight on his elbows as he traced the line of her collarbone with his tongue. His heartbeat thudded hard and fast against her breast. She hooked her heels on the on the edge of the table, cradling him between her legs and murmuring incoherently as she stroked his hair. It was impossible to love him more than she did, impossible. Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes and soaked into her hair as he worked his way down to her breasts. Eyes closed, he suckled first at one nipple then the other, teasing her sensitive flesh lightly and then drawing hard, so that her clitoris throbbed in agonizing response and she cried out, clawing at his shoulders in urgent, wordless demand.
Still suckling, he worked one hand between their bodies and fingered the soft petals of her sex, drawing out moisture and rubbing his cock against her. She was so slick with arousal, she felt the wetness coating him.
He pushed steady and gentle until the thick, broad head of his penis slipped in, and he stopped just long enough that she pulled at his hair and sobbed out, “Don’t tease me right now.”
At that he threw back his head. His face was twisted; he looked transformed, outside of himself. A growl wrenched out of him, and in one convulsive move he sheathed himself inside of her.
In, in, in, he was all the way in. She cried out, gripping him tightly with her inner muscles, while she raised her legs and wrapped them around his torso.
His hoarse, panting breath was like a bellows in her ear, and his long hair covered her face. He shook all over. She hugged him with her whole body and soul, fiercely, stroking the back of his head with one hand while she rubbed his back.
“Tell me you’re all right,” she whispered, growing anxious as he held so still.
Tell me you won’t regret this.
He looked down at her and smiled, his face filled with tenderness and sharp passion. He said, “I’ve never been better. You feel like a wet silk fist. Gods—Xanthe—”
She tightened on him harder as he slid out, and he shuddered hard and drove back in. He pulled out again, excruciatingly slow. Unable to wait, she mewled and thrust her hips up, impaling herself on him. His big body jerked as he gasped. He put a hand between them again; she felt him probing for her clitoris as he fucked her. Something came out of her mouth, an uncontrolled string of words. She had no idea what she said. She was on fire everywhere, everywhere. It blazed from the point of his entry, the unbearably gorgeous pressure of his fingers on exactly the right place.
“Oh shit,” he said.
He twisted in her arms. Inside, she felt him begin to pulse as he lost control. Then that desire, that sweetest pain she felt for no one but him, peaked like a starburst. She cried out as her own climax rippled through her. He ground against her, shuddering.
Silence, their passion released. She cradled him as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. The table was uncomfortably hard on her spine, and she would not have moved for the world. With her fingers, she circled the slight knob of bone at the base of his nape and traced what she could reach of the long line of scar across his back, soaking up every sensual piece of evidence she could get of him.
I’ll not ever forget this moment, she thought. Not ever, not even if I live for a very, very long time.