Squinting, she sat up and looked down at Colby. His lids were still closed, a smile playing at the corners of his lips but he most definitely was there.
Nonchalantly, she slid her hand under the sheet and pinched her thigh. Hard. The sharp pain didn’t make her wake up, which meant only one thing, as far as she could tell. This wasn’t a dream.
Last night hadn’t been a dream.
“Good morning.”
He rolled over onto his back and reached for her, pulling her with him so that she ended up sprawled across him. His lashes lifted and she found herself staring into sleepy, sexy eyes. This was new territory for her. The last time she’d spent a night with a guy had been in college.
Wayne had been the only man she’d met who had ever been able to make her think about somebody besides Colby. She’d loved him. It hadn’t been the all-consuming need she had for Colby, but she’d loved him. His sudden death in a car crash had shaken her to the core.
The few times she’d spent the night with him in college, it had always been at his small apartment just off campus. Never once had she had a guy spent the night with her, slept all night in her bed.
Hell, she’d never let a guy in her bed.
So this was definitely unchartered territory.
She licked her lips and tried a smile. It wobbled a little, but Colby didn’t seem to notice. He stroked a hand up her back and curved it over the nape of her neck, drawing her face toward his.
He kissed her—a lazy, sweet kiss that left her tingling all over, from her lips all the way down to the soles of her feet. His other hand rested on the base of her spine, just above her ass. Against her belly, she felt the rigid length of his cock. With a hungry moan, she rocked against him. The hand on her back slid down, cupped her ass and squeezed.
Lifting up, she shifted until she straddled his thighs. Staring at him, she ran her hands down his chest. His skin was shades paler than her own, sleek and leanly muscled. A smattering of black hair across his pecs trailed down in a thin ribbon that arrowed toward his sex. Her mouth went dry as she stared at him.
His cock was thick, ruddy and swollen. As she stared at him, his flesh jerked. Reaching out, she wrapped her fingers around him and stroked.
He really was here. Lying in her bed. He’d spent the whole night with her and right now, he was looking at her as though nobody else in the world existed. She didn’t expect that to last. What had brought him to her like this, she didn’t know, but she had no illusions that she was going to have a happily-ever-after wrapped up and placed before. She was too practical to waste time deluding herself.
But she had every intention of enjoying it while it lasted.
Lifting her gaze back to his face, she watched as she stroked him up and down, squeezing as she neared the base of his cock and then easing her grip just a bit as she started the upstroke.
The skin stretched over his rigid length was silky soft, almost fragile. Underneath, he was hard as iron and his flesh jerked in her hand as she stroked upward, then back down, from base to tip, over and over. A clear bead of fluid formed on the head of his penis and she caught it with her thumb and rubbed it around. His breath hissed out from between his teeth. His hips moved in rhythm with her hand and she waited until his body went tense under hers and then she lifted up. Staring down into his eyes, she held him steady as she took his cock inside her.
She sank down on him slowly. Her *, swollen and sensitive from last night, resisted it at first and she had to work to take all of him. She could feel every damn ridge and line of his cock—the flared head, the vein running down the underside. Every jerk and throb of his penis sent a flutter of pleasure-pain rushing through her.
It was almost too much, the sensations almost too painful. But she couldn’t have made herself stop for anything. She needed him—oh, damn did she need.
His hands cupped her hips, fingers biting into her flesh. His head ground into the pillow beneath it, his teeth bared in a sexy snarl. “Fuck, Bree…”
Biting her lip, she took him deeper, but pain flared. She tensed against him, her * clutching tight, fighting his cock’s slow invasion. She started to lift up. His hands clamped down and he drove upward. She cried out as he forced her down on his cock, impaling her. Arching her back, she held still, her body working to accommodate him, torn between the need to move against him and the need to pull away.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely, staring up at her through slitted eyes. One hand left her hip, his fingers seeking out the stiff bud of her clit. “Damn it, I’m sorry…fuck, Bree, baby, you’re killing me…so fucking perfect…”