“Oh, yes.” She nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Good.” He slowly removed his hand, watching the retreat with hungry, avid eyes, watching as his fingers came away wet with her climax. Fisting himself, he gritted his jaw against the pleasure as he used her wetness to moisten his latex-covered shaft. Then he placed one hand on the small of her back and used the other to grab his thick base and bend himself forward.
When the plump head of his cock kissed her entrance, he saw her body open and flower around him, as if eager to draw him in. Her next words proved her need. “Please, Dan. I want you inside me. I need you inside me.”
That’s what he wanted too. What he needed too. But he also wanted to draw it out, this wonderful, carnal moment of joining. So he gripped her hip to keep her from thrusting back at him, and slowly, ever-so-slowly, inched forward, watching her body swallow him, seeing her part and stretch around his girth. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was elemental and ethereal. Both corporeal and spiritual.
It’s so right…
And there was that word again. He couldn’t escape it. Didn’t want to escape it, he realized with a start.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he swore, her body squeezing him like a hot, satin-gloved fist.
“You’re big,” was her retort and he caught the devilish gleam of her eyes in the mirror’s reflection.
“That too,” he agreed. And he was doing it again. Grinning like an idiot.
Of course his grin melted away when he grabbed her shoulder for leverage, pulling her back at the same time he thrust forward. Her quickly indrawn breath mingled with the sound of his low groan. He was seated to the hilt. Totally surrounded by her. Totally immersed in her. Totally enslaved by her. And it was heaven.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly, reaching back to grab his hip. The bite of her little nails into his flesh—a warning—was just as much pleasure as it was pain. “Just let me…” She swallowed, holding his eyes in the mirror. “Give me a second to get used to it, okay?”
“S-sure,” he was able to grit out, remaining stock-still even though every instinct he had told him to thrust. Hard. Fast. Over and over until the orgasm building inside him exploded. Until the world around him ceased to exist.
Her inner muscles shimmered around his shaft like a million tiny fingers, touching, squeezing, caressing. But he waited. And then he waited some more as she simply braced herself and breathed. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. Finally, he ground out, “You’re killing me, woman.”
He didn’t like the slightly plaintive tone of his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it. The pleasure of being inside her and not moving was torture. Beautiful, exquisite, soul-shaking torture.
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”
She’d barely gotten the last word out before he was sliding from her body, slowly, closing his eyes against the delicious friction. He continued to retreat, glancing down to see his shaft emerging from her snug grip, shiny with her welcome and her passion. When the flared edge of his head peeked from her pink opening, he gritted his teeth and pressed back home in one hard, unapologetic thrust.
She groaned when his plump tip pressed against the end of her channel and the opening to her womb. It took everything he had to hold himself still and ask, “Y’okay?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him, wiggling slightly, rubbing his head deep inside her. The smell of sex filled the room, the decadent scent of hot skin and needy bodies. And mixing through it all was the sweet aroma of rosewater. It would always, for the rest of his life, remind him of her. “Yes. More, please.”
“With pleasure,” he assured her, pulling out and setting a rhythm that was meant to slowly drive her to the edge of ecstasy again—and drive him to insanity. Over and over he thrust, the friction more delectable with each pass. The desire building with each hot, wet glide.
He could feel her building beneath him. Feel her body sucking at him in greedier and greedier pulls. His orgasm was a living thing now, roaring and growling and begging for release. He held it at bay. Pushed it back and down because he wanted them to come together. He wanted them to jump together. He wanted to see the pleasure on her face at the same time he felt its prurient pull inside his own body.
“Oh God. Dan!” She had one hand braced on the counter as he pumped into her. The other hand was on his hip, egging him on, encouraging him harder, faster. He obliged, reaching around her and sliding his middle finger between her folds. When he found the swollen nub, he rubbed it in circles. Thrusting and rubbing. Thrusting and rubbing. Taking them higher and higher until he could feel her body coiling, her muscles tensing. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, competed with their harsh breathing.