Quickly, he undid the buttons of her dress and popped the clasp at the front of her bra. Her freed breasts stood at attention, swollen and waiting for his next move. Caressing his neck, she guided him lower, aching for the heat of his breath, the flat of his tongue on her nipples. Finally, he kissed them, torturing the tips with the edge of his teeth.
“Yes, yes.” She whispered encouragement as he moved from one to the other.
The sound of him unsnapping his pants sharpened the ache in her loins. She couldn’t resist helping him push his boxers past his hips. And she couldn’t resist touching him.
He sucked in a sharp breath when she reached for his heavy hardness, shaping the length and girth, recalling what it was like to have him inside of her. How he would make her senses reel and her breath catch with the strength of his thrusts. She stroked the veined exterior until he let loose a groan through clenched teeth.
“You have to stop, love . . . I can’t . . .” He made a sound at the back of his throat and pushed away her hand. Within seconds, he sheathed his erection in a condom.
His hands went under her dress again, dragging aside the silky material of her panties. He trailed his fingers over the thatch of dark hair between her thighs, the feathered touch on the plump, wet folds almost making her come again.
He moved between her legs and his body claimed hers—the only appropriate word to describe the act. Claim. Like the planting of a flag on unchartered territory. That’s how she felt with him. Like untouched, virgin land.
Her inner muscles adjusted to accommodate him, conforming to fit around his wide shaft. The pleasure of it was incomparable.
Ryan stretched her arms above her head, intertwining their fingers together. As he lowered his head to her chest, she arched off the floor, letting loose a gasping cry when his mouth fastened around a nipple. He sucked the dark bud, so sensitized now after becoming reacquainted with his mouth, sending a flash of need straight to her center. Every time he sucked, a throb echoed in her core, creating a rush of wetness between her thighs.
He showed no signs of easing up even as she trembled beneath him. Each thrust of his hips filled her, and she lifted upward in time to his movements, pulling him deeper into the silken heat of her sex. But she could sense him holding back, leashing the need to plunder her body with the passion she craved.
Ryan lifted his head, the set of his jaw hard as he suffered behind a wall of restraint. “You’re so wet for me,” he said. “I want to go slow, but . . .”
Shawna shook her head wildly. That’s not what she wanted right now. Not when she felt so frantic, could feel the pulse of his hard flesh deep inside of her. “Don’t go slow. Go fast. Go hard. Go . . . just . . . go . . .”
He needed to hear that. He let loose a series of thrusts that pushed her along the floor. Wherever bare skin met the carpet, it burned, bruising her flesh. But she didn’t want him to stop because it was unbearably good. Her body reawakened and accepted the fiery sensations—the type of sensations that blurred the lines between pain and pleasure.
He’d ruined her for any other man. She’d hoped that her mind had created a false memory of how amazing it had been between them, but tonight’s reality surpassed the recollection.
Legs spread wide, she was pinned beneath him and filled to capacity. Unable to move, unable to escape as he drilled into her. He controlled her with each thrust, damn near stamping his name on her privates—in all caps, bolded, so she’d never forget who it belonged to. Sex had never been this good, this untamed with anyone else. She screamed from the intensity of it, begging him to stop and not stop, all in the same breath.
Lying there, panting and groaning, they were the perfect example of lusty impatience. Both still wearing all their clothes, right down to their underwear—rutting around on the carpet in heat.