Warning chills danced along his spine. Between his legs, his balls drew tight against him. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he buried his face against her neck. Not yet…
Self-preservation had him slowing down the rhythm of his thrusts. Bree cupped her hands over his hips and tried to draw him closer but he held back. Slow, easy thrust in—slow, easy withdrawal—still, her silk-drenched * was fist-tight around him, her scent flooded his head and her soft, hoarse moans were the most erotic sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Control was hard-won, bit by bit, degree by degree and every time she wiggled against him, every time her nails dug into his hips in demand, that hard-won control threatened to shatter.
Six fucking months of dreams weren’t going to end in under two minutes, though. Shoving upward, he balanced on his haunches while he hooked his elbows under her knees. Then he covered her again, using his weight to keep her from moving under him as he fucked her.
That sweet, snug * convulsed around him as Bree snarled in frustration. Her body tensed as she fought to set the rhythm.
“Be still,” Colby muttered, nipping her ear.
“Damn it, Colby—”
He nuzzled her neck. “I haven’t spent the last six months dreaming about this just so you can have me coming before I barely even have a chance to start. Be still.”
“Six months…” She stretched her arms overhead, her hands scrambling for something to hold on to. All she could find was the wooden chaise they lay on. Gripping it in her hands, she managed, just barely, to get enough leverage to grind her pelvis against his.
She moaned even as he swore, her lashes fluttering low over her eyes. He felt it coming on her, as easy as that, just the friction of his body rubbing against her clit.
She gloved him so tightly, but as she started to come, her * squeezed down around his dick in excruciating pleasure-pain.
He wasn’t going to be able to hold out this time. He tried, gritting his teeth, dropping his body down on hers and using his weight to pin her in place, but nothing he did could stop the rhythmic, milking caresses rippling along his cock.
Nothing could cool the fire building in his balls, racing up his spine and exploding through him. “Witch,” he growled, groaning low in his throat as climax slammed into them. It danced and sizzled through his veins—liquid electricity that started in his fingers, his toes, hurtling inward until it converged in his balls before exploding outward.
He had to see her—needed to see her eyes. “Look at me,” he rasped, letting go of her legs. “Look at me…” he laid a hand on her neck, rested his thumb against her lips. Her lashes lifted slowly. She opened her mouth, circled his thumb with her tongue before drawing it inside. She sucked on him as he rode her and the feel of it—her hot mouth drawing on his flesh—had another climax rise up and slam into him before the first one had even ended.
With a hoarse cry, he arched against her, lost in her. Dimly, he felt her body shuddering, shaking, moving in rhythm with his as she came.
And his name.
As he collapsed, to rest with his head pillowed between her breasts, she whispered his name.
Bree had no idea how long they lay there.
It could have been minutes.
It could have been hours.
She might have drifted off for a few minutes, she didn’t know. Nothing seemed real, yet it had that vivid, surreal quality of dreams, the kind that lingered with you for hours after waking. It wasn’t until he stirred in her arms that her brain actually kicked in and she realized what was going on.
It had all really happened. This wasn’t just some midnight fantasy that would shatter around her the minute she opened her eyes. Her body cried out at the loss of his heat as he braced his elbows on the ground and pushed up, staring at her face with unreadable eyes.
The practical bitch trapped inside Bree commented snidely, Here comes the now-what. You wanted to know. Here’s the answer. He’s going to stand up, get dressed and walk away.
Well, one out of three. He did stand up. But he didn’t get dressed or walk away. What he did was take her hand and draw her to her feet and guide her to the house. Without speaking, he snagged her purse from the ground and dug out her keys. She wrapped her arms around her body, shivering as the cool summer night air began to penetrate the lax, lazy languor that wrapped around her.
Inside the house wasn’t much better. Her nipples were so tight from the cool air, they ached and she shivered uncontrollably until he stopped mid-step and scooped her up in his arms. She squealed, startled, and immediately felt like an idiot. Smacking at his shoulders, she squirmed. “Put me down, Colby. I’m too heavy.”