THEY HADN’T BEEN able to get back to her place fast enough. There was something about that knowing moment, standing in the middle of the party at Midnight Ink with his girl—his girl—that made the rest of the world fade away—but not quite enough. He had to get her alone, and it seemed she felt the same.
They’d been quiet on the ride to her house, with Duff holding on to her soft little hand as he drove over the New Orleans streets, packed with the throngs celebrating Halloween. But he barely noticed. She was inside his head, her dark and utterly delicious scent filling him up from the seat beside him. He had to get his hands on her. But it was more than that. He had to get close to her.
When he pulled into her driveway he didn’t even have to warn her to wait for him to come around and open the truck door. When he’d kissed her at the tattoo shop, something in her had truly relaxed for the first time, and he’d felt her give herself over not only to him, but to the moment, and in a way she never had before.
At her front door he took her keys from her and unlocked her house. Stepping into the warm amber light from one hanging lantern in the hallway, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom, setting her down on the bed. Then he had to stop and simply look at her—at the gorgeous curves of her body beneath her black dress, even the graceful arch of her foot in her high heels. He let his gaze roam his way up slowly, until he found the luscious rise of her breasts at the low neckline of the lace dress. Then to her face. And ah, Lord, that face. Had he ever seen anything like it?
“You really are exquisite,” he told her, his voice a rough rumble in his throat. The words didn’t convey enough. But he was hard and wanting—needing with more than his dick. Needing to touch her, to hold her, to be inside her not only as a form of satisfaction, but because he couldn’t get close enough any other way.
He was afraid if he stopped to examine what the fuck was going on with him, it would all fall apart, so he chose not to.
Keeping his gaze on hers, he kicked his boots off, shrugged his way out of his shirt, unbuckled his belt.
“Are you going to spank me with that?” she asked. He could read the tension in every line of her body, but it wasn’t fear.
“What? No, lovely. No, not tonight. Tonight I don’t need any of that.”
Blinking hard, her long lashes came down onto her high, dusky cheekbones. She bit her lip for a moment. “You can, you know. You can do whatever you want.”
Shaking his head, he knelt on the edge of the bed and began to undress her, leaving a trail of kisses over her shoulders, her hands, the unutterably graceful lines of her collarbone. Finally she was naked, and he was hard as stone looking at her, tasting her skin. “No,” he whispered. “Right now it’s just you and me. Nothing else.” A surge of desire rippled over his flesh, so strong he could barely control himself. “I need you so damn badly, Layla. So badly.”
There was a small, sobbing moan from her; then her arms went around his neck and he sank down onto the bed with her. Lying on top of her, he ground his hardness against her lithe little body, and she met his undulations with her own as he kissed her mouth, as his tongue found hers. He only grew harder, his need for her transcending the desires of the flesh. And yet it drove him on in a way he’d never known before.
“Christ, Layla. I am desperate for you. Fucking desperate.” He drew his lips from hers only to press them to her throat, leaving small bites there, then to her lush breasts, biting her nipples, the softly rounded curves. He had to fill his mouth, his hands, with her gorgeous caramel flesh. With the flavor of her skin. “You taste unbelievable—do you know that? And I have to have you now. Right now, right this minute.”
Somehow he got out of his jeans, and he was on top of her once more. She opened her sweet thighs for him.
“Yes. Please, Duff. I need you, too. I need you inside me now,” she whispered, her mouth latching onto his neck and sucking hard. “Don’t make me wait.”
His cock pulsed—his entire body pulsed, hummed, vibrated, even his hands, his lips. What else could he do but comply with her heated, begging request? And the aching, driving desire was too wildly powerful to resist. Overwhelming. Undeniable.
He pulled her upright, and they came together, fluid, melting, desperate, their hands grasping, nails digging into flesh, kissing, sucking, biting each other. She spread her legs over his thighs as he knelt on the bed. Picking her up by the waist, he took a breath as he settled her open, wet sex onto his throbbing cock. It was too damn hard to wait—he couldn’t do it, was totally out of control, and with one urgent, stabbing thrust, he was inside her.
“Ah, Layla.”
“Duff! Yes, yes. It can’t be fast enough. It can’t be hard enough.”
Her hips were pumping as he thrust up into her, his hands wrapped around her waist, helping her move. They were one writhing being—a being made completely of pleasure and sensation and a soul-shattering need neither one knew how to meet. He kissed her breasts, took one nipple into his mouth to suckle; then he bit down. She cried out, but held his head, urging him on, gasping with pleasure. And his own pleasure moved through his body in shattering waves that were already almost like coming. It was all intensity and mindless touching, kissing, fucking. Except that it was something else, something more he didn’t have the words for.
She rose on his swollen, pulsing shaft, then lowered herself, impaling herself deeply. And nothing had ever felt so good as being inside her, wrapped up in her lovely flesh.