“Do you even need to ask that question?”
I smiled as I reached up, wrapping my hand around his wrist. I drew his fingers down my stomach, to the button on my jeans. He needed no further explanation. Nick broke records when it came to how fast he had me out of my jeans.
“You were right.” His fingers skimmed along the thin strap over my hip as he turned me around, his hand following his movements, slipping under the lace along the center. “I really do like this, too.”
The thong was nothing more than a scrap of flimsy material, no barrier against his heat as he slipped his hand between my thighs. “God,” he said, his voice a thick whisper. “You’re already ready.”
I was.
I’d been ready from the moment he’d made his intentions clear. With his hand between my legs, he drew me against him, and I could feel him through his jeans, heavy and hard, pressing against me. My back arched and a breathy moan escaped me as his fingers went to work, slipping inside the material and through the wetness gathering there. I grabbed his arm, holding him to me, and the other slammed onto the counter. I braced myself as he curved his body into mine, his chest sealed to my back. Tension simmered to life as I moved my hips against his hand, building on top of itself as his warm breath fanned my temple.
“We can do it here if that’s what you want. I can lift you up, get that sweet ass on the counter. Or against the fridge,” he said, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Or I can take you on the table or the couch, fuck you right there.” One hand slid up my side, sending a shiver through me as it closed around my breast. “Or I can just turn you right around, right here, and fuck you from behind.” His lips skated over my neck, stopping over my wildly beating pulse. He nipped at the same moment he added another finger, causing me to gasp. “You tell me what you want.”
Good God . . .
Those words almost sent me over the edge, and I was close, so close. The guy had magic fingers, and if he kept going like this, it would be over before we got started. “Like this,” I gasped out.
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted.
My undies were at my ankles and then, over the thunder of my slamming heart, I heard the tinny sound of his zipper going down. The condom was off the counter and on him before I had a chance to grow impatient.
Nick gripped my hips and lifted me up on the tips of my toes, then one hand disappeared and a second later I felt him between my legs. I didn’t have to see to know that he was large. Then I felt it. He eased himself into me, inch by inch, and so slowly that every nerve ending felt raw as he seated himself fully. The pinch of pain faded and the pressure was almost overwhelming.
One arm circled my waist, drawing me up against him. His groan was deliciously harsh in my ear, mindlessly drugging. He started moving his hips, rocking in and out of me. There was nothing slow about this. Each thrust was deep and fast, wholly precise. This was . . . this was about fucking, and that’s what he did—that’s what I did. Pushing back, meeting each stroke just as fiercely.
I didn’t get a chance to even aid the release along. Both my hands were flattened on the counter and the space between us grew until he curved his body over mine, pushing my upper body down on the counter. The coolness of the laminate was a shock against my heated skin.
The sounds of our bodies coming together, of my gasps and moans and his rough grunts filled the kitchen. The tension built and built, tightening up until my toes started to tingle. One hand slid up the center of my back, balling in my hair as he pinned me there, his hips slamming into mine.
I came in a burst and it was fast, powerful, and damn near blinding. I cried out, my body stilling as if I was being stretched, and his hips kept moving, kept pounding, until he pressed in, grinding against me. Pleasure poured into me, intensified with each thrust. His hoarse shout joined mine and he jerked, his body going still.
Aftershocks sparked. Tiny spasms shook me. Dazed, I let the coolness of the counter seep through my flushed cheek. After what felt like forever, I opened my eyes and found myself staring at the stovetop. My lips curled up at the corners in a lazy smile.
Huh. Never thought I’d be breaking in the kitchen this quickly.
Nick eased off me, his hand dragging down the center of my back, lingering on my hip for a few seconds, and then there was a rush of cool air against my skin. “You still alive?” he asked.
I didn’t want to move. “I don’t know yet.”
His chuckle caused the grin to spread. Pushing myself away from the counter, I bent down to grab my undies.
“Damn,” he groaned, and I realized I was giving him quite the eyeful. “No words,” he continued. “No fucking words.”