He dipped his head to her other breast. Taking as much of the soft flesh into his mouth as possible, he sucked and pulled harder. She bowed, quivering against him. She moaned. Her head fell backward, her bright hair brushing the sheet. Her fingers clenched in the sheets, bunching the silk.
She was impaled by him, surrounded by him. Michael let go of her breast. He gave that slight twist of his hips again. Again she whimpered. “Tell me what you want, Winter. Tell me with your hands.” He pulled out of her, eased her body down to the mattress, and slid his hands back under her buttocks. He levered her up at a sharper angle, braced his forearms on his thighs, his hands still full of her ass. Her spread knees pressed against his corded biceps. He looked down at her plumped glistening slit, and desire slammed him so hard that his breath hitched in his chest. He pushed himself back into her, penetrating hardly deeper than the swollen head of his shaft before coming back out. He stroked her like that, shallow and short, like he had that very first night. Over and over, deliberately caressing her G-spot. He gritted his teeth. It was sheer torture not to plunge the full length of his thick cock back into her, but he wanted her insane for him first.
“Oh, God.” She threw her head back, her eyes closed tightly against the white lights that were beginning to go off behind her eyelids. She clenched her hands in the bedclothes. He was stroking liquid fire, higher and higher. She was straining upward, carried by the flames. Then the exquisite sensation abruptly stopped. It was like rushing up on a roller coaster and not quite reaching the pinnacle before sliding backward. She mewed in frustration. “Don’t stop, Michael! Please, don’t stop!”
The short, sharp stroke started again, pushing her back up. “Yes! Yes!” She was burning up, reaching, straining for the plunge. She quivered, on the edge. The pressure-building friction stopped again. She could feel the blunt end of his blood-hot shaft ringed inside of her. Her inner muscles quivered around its unmoving head.
Winter snapped her eyes open and glared up at him. His pale eyes burned back at her from tautened features while his lips were drawn back over his teeth. “No!” she panted. She bucked her hips and felt his shaft slide deeper. A spasm clutched her sheath. “Do it now!”
His fingers bit into her hips, holding her away from his cock. His breath was a harsh rasp. “Tell me with your hands, Winter!”
“I don’t know what you want!”
He didn’t answer her. He only stroked her again, tortuously stopping and starting and stopping. She was dry-sobbing with frustration before he spoke again. He was panting like he had been running for miles as he bit out the words. “Tell me, Winter! With your hands! Touch me, damn you!”
Through her haze of desire, Winter reached up between her legs and collared the base of his hot hard flesh. “Please, Michael! I need this!” she gasped in desperation. “I need you!”
His weight fell on her, crushing her, pushing her forward on the bed. His mouth closed fiercely over hers, his tongue thrusting into her mouth. With a sob, she wound her arms around his neck. As he drove home, she cried out with the exquisite sear of heat inside her.
He took her hard and fast, and Winter gloried in it. It was what she wanted, what she needed. She raked her nails down his back, scoring the skin and heard his swift in-drawn breath. His powerful body jerked in her arms. A fierce exhilaration swept through her. She did it again, her nails raking deeper. He cursed in her ear and drove himself harder into her. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, and she met him thrust for thrust. The burning heat began to climb, hurtling her forward into the flames. The conflagration leapt high, licking at her nerves, tightening every muscle in her body until it burst free. Shooting over the edge, she cried out, spiraling in blinding free fall.