And he did. The sight of her mouth on his cock would never get old.
She pushed up on her elbows, swirled her tongue around his tip, and then engulfed him in a slow descent that ended with his head buried in the back of her throat. His hands flew to her hair, half of him wanting to hold her there and thrust deeper, half of him wanting to yank her away before this was over in about thirty seconds.
The other reason getting caught probably wasn’t an issue—this morning aside, his abstinence from everything but his own hand for the past year meant he wasn’t likely to have very frickin’ much staying power. She withdrew in a torturous hard suck of his flesh that very nearly proved the point.
Goddamnit.
“Becca, you are going to make me come in about ten seconds,” he said, awe mixed with a bit of embarrassment in his voice. Jesus, she was really fucking good at this.
She pulled off long enough to grin up at him. “Good. I want you to come.”
Swirling wetness over his head, she lashed him with her tongue before sinking down once more. This time, the pace wasn’t slow, but the fast swallow and suck was every bit as torturous. Maybe more. Because his body was barreling toward a cliff’s edge he had no hope of avoiding. Her silky hair fanned over his lap and he tangled his fingers in it, guiding her head as she devoured him. Heat and pressure and mind-blowing sensation congregated in his balls, hung there until he was holding his breath.
“Christ, Becca, I’m coming. I’m . . . fucking . . . coming.” Dizziness tossed his conscious mind to the corner and he groaned and thrust into her mouth as she sucked down everything that he gave her. The orgasm drained the tension out of his muscles until he was boneless against the leather. Except, miraculously, he was still so goddamned hard she could take his head to the back of her throat when she indulged in a few more lingering sucks.
His. Fucking. Turn.
Without a single word of warning, he pulled her off him, tugged the denim over his cock, and flipped her into his arms. Her swollen lips and flushed face and surprised laugh ricocheted right down his spine and ensured his erection didn’t deflate by even an inch. He hauled them off the couch, refusing to acknowledge his protesting back, then stalked down the hall, kicking the office door shut with his boot.
In his room, he came to the bottom corner of his big bed and tossed her to the mattress in the darkness. She screamed and laughed as she bounced against the messy covers, still rumpled from how they’d left them this morning.
Damnit all to hell, but that felt like a million years ago. He removed the gun from the back of his jeans and settled it on the nightstand as he turned on the lamp. Her eyes found him immediately, and she smiled.
God, she was so damn pretty. And the way she looked at him sent him soaring.
Sometimes you plodded through life with nothing changing from one month to the next no matter how much you yearned for a revolution to erupt beneath your feet. And sometimes your whole world imploded and rebuilt itself in a matter of seconds. In the past, those instantaneous changes had almost always ignited with pain and loss.
Not this time.
This time, a woman had performed the simple act of walking through his front door. She’d sent his life spinning off on a whole new trajectory of rebuilding. Reclaiming. Maybe, even love.
Returning to the foot of the bed, Nick found that Becca’s gaze was equal parts humor and heat. Hands behind her calves, he hauled her toward the edge of the bed, undid the fly of her jeans, and tugged them over her hips. She lifted her legs, helping him remove them, and a twinge of pain shot through his back again as he yanked them off.
Rixey didn’t mind the discomfort. It was a drop in the bucket compared to the soul-deep pleasure he felt, and, anyway, he was used to it. But it reminded him that she’d been injured. “Shit, Becca. Did I hurt your side when I threw you?” He leaned his upper body between her thighs until he hovered over her, reminding him of the fast frenzy of this morning.
She stroked his cheek with soft fingertips. “No. It’s not too bad. But thank you for thinking to ask.”
Relief flowed through him, drawing him to taste her. He leaned into her slowly and kissed her. And, damn, he could still taste himself in her mouth. It was a fucking rush, knowing she’d pleasured him so freely, so selflessly. His hand skimmed up her belly, tugging at the cotton and caressing her breasts. She arched into his touch, allowing him to pull her shirt to her throat. “Lift,” he whispered, and then he removed it altogether. A flick of his hand behind her back bared her completely to his gaze.