She took in another.
And then with a low noise that came from deep in her throat that he felt score straight to his cock, she took the first step, the second, third, and she was in his arms.
She did that, came to him. It was him that dropped his head and his lips bore down on hers.
Hers opened. He swept his tongue in and instantly pivoted her, walking her backwards toward the hall door.
And the stairs.
He had her zipper down in the hall.
She had his shirt untucked at the foot of the stairs.
He had her dress down to her waist by the middle of them.
She had his belt undone by the top.
All this they did with their mouths attached, tongues dancing.
He shimmied the dress over her hips at the side of her bed while she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.
Her dress had fallen to her feet and she’d gotten enough buttons undone he could slip the ones through at his cuffs and tear it over his head. He did this as he toed off his shoes.
The second he dropped his shirt, his hands went to her ass, lifted her up and her legs circled him. Hix put a knee to her bed and then both of them in it.
He kissed her and took the kiss deeper, made it last, and only disengaged to bend down to pull off his socks.
He only got that done before she reached to him and tugged him back to her.
He didn’t fight it.
Hands all over her, everywhere he could get them, he whispered in her ear, “You got another condom?”
Her hands diving in his trousers and shorts, skin to skin at his ass, in his ear she whispered her answer. “One left, Hix. But, baby, as hot as you are, take this sister’s advice and slide some in your wallet.”
His mouth went back to hers, his eyes looking in hers, seeing them sparkle even through the shadows.
“Thanks for the advice,” he said, his smiling mouth moving against her also smiling mouth.
She nipped his bottom lip telling him she was done chatting.
He got her message and kissed her again.
Just like when she was fully clothed, something he didn’t comprehend the last time he’d had her, when she was in bed, Greta communicated with everything she had. The sounds she made. Her movements. Arches. Stretches. Touches. Tastes. Nibbles. Scrapes. Squeezes.
It was all too good, sweet, hot, wet, he had to escape before it went out of his control.
And he did that making his way from working her breasts over her lacy bra, down her belly to between her legs.
He gently opened them.
“Hix,” she whispered.
He put his mouth to her over her panties and then he put pressure on by pressing in his tongue.
“Hix,” she moaned, her fingers diving into his hair.
Right.
With that, he was not going to take this slow.
So he rolled away, dragged her panties down her legs, his cock jumping when they caught at one ankle on the bling of the shoe she was still wearing, and as he rolled back, she opened herself to him.
Jesus.
Shit.
He lowered to her, and with just a touch of his mouth, she pitched up into him and filled it.
He did not let that invitation slide.
Tossing her legs over his shoulders, he ate her, his hips uncontrollably grinding his cock into her mattress at the sounds she made, the taste of her on his tongue, the wet seeping into his mouth, the feel of her legs tightening around him, the points of her heels digging into his flesh.
He took from her and more and more until her hand fisted in his hair and she gasped, “Condom.”
He turned his head, ran his lips along her thigh and murmured, “Not done, sweetheart.”
Then he went back at her.
Jesus, so damned sweet, her fist in his hair shoved him deeper even as it seemed she wanted to pull him away, and she squirmed under him, pumping against him at the same time evading, until she forced out, “This . . . I’m . . . baby.”
She was on the edge.
Only then did he lift up and over her, catching her eyes, hers focusing on his with difficulty.
“Condom,” he growled.
She rolled to her side immediately, reached and opened a drawer in her nightstand.
He pushed up to his knees between her legs and practically tore the packet out of her hand when she rolled back.
As he opened it and slid it out, she knifed up, got on her knees, opened his trousers and pulled them down his hips.
It was a huge fucking relief when his heavy, hard cock bounded free.
It was sweet, fucking torture when her hand wrapped around it.
He shoved her hand aside, rolled on the condom and grasped her hips.
Like she knew his thoughts, her fingers curled around his shoulders and she surged to him as he lifted her up. Her legs wrapped around. He let her go with one hand to grasp his cock and guide the way. Feeling her slick on the head, finding her, he drove her down.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, her head fell back, her spine arched and her legs tightened around his ass as she ground into him, a long, low moan ripping up her throat.
Jesus, God, she was amazing.
He drew out, sunk in, again and again, and her head snapped forward, her forehead falling on his, one hand sliding to clutch him at the back of his neck, fingers up in his hair, the other arm rounding his shoulders as she bounced into his thrusts, her heavy breaths clashing with his.
“Need more?” he grunted, meaning did she want him at her clit.
“Hell . . .” she puffed. “No,” she bit off her last as he filled her again.
He grinned and drove deep, pounding her down on him as he did it.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself, Sheriff,” she huffed.
“Baby, buried deep in you, no other way I can look.”
“Stop turning me on when I’m about to come,” she demanded.
“Stop makin’ me wanna laugh when I’m about to come,” he returned.
Suddenly, on a downward movement, her body bucked in his arms and her hold grew tighter, her voice lowering, going even more breathy as she whispered, “Hix.”
He dropped her to her back and fully took over, thrusting hard, the wet sleek of her convulsing around him, and he wrapped his hand around the bottom of her jaw, hoping like all hell she was as close as she seemed.
“Greta,” he grunted when her eyes stayed closed even after he positioned her to look at him.
Slowly they opened as she rocked under him, held on to him with every piece of her.
She’d done that the week before, and Christ, but he loved how she did it.
“Want you lookin’ at me when you give that to me, sweetheart,” he told her gruffly.
“Okay, Hix,” she whispered, her nails digging in at his shoulder.
“Fuck, baby,” he growled.
Her nails felt great.
Her hold felt better.
But her tight, wet pussy contracting around him . . .
The best.
“Hix.”
“Stay with me, Greta.”
“Hix.”
“Stick with me, sweetheart.”
“Can’t,” she breathed, tightened her hold on him and arched into him.