“There’s a set of shelves to your left and an empty wall behind you,” he said in a low, rumbly voice that made her nipples tighten and ache. “Back up.” It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order and she loved it.
With a shuddering breath, she shuffled backwards until her shoulder blades contacted a solid surface. Her unfamiliarity with her surroundings, combined with the darkness and his intensity magnified her arousal until she was light-headed and her entire lower body clenched and flooded with heat. He was in complete control of the situation, and it was a wonderful, heady thing to know that all of this powerful man’s focus was on her.
The only sound was their breathing, his as labored as hers. He was still near the door, and the anticipation was killing her.
“Michael,” she said.
“We’re not going to talk. Not this first time.”
He had moved closer while he spoke, and she could feel him standing in front of her, his heat radiating through her dress and into her skin. She shivered, delighted by his power.
Touch deliberate, he slipped his warm hands around her waist, then up her sides to cup her breasts and she moaned.
“No protracted foreplay,” he whispered against her neck as he ran his thumbs over her sensitive nipples, no doubt finding them hard. “Not this time.” His brushed a hand down her body and lifted her skirt, fingers trailing up her thigh and, without prelude, slipping into her wetness, but only briefly, making her ache even worse. “You don’t need it.”
He was right. They’d been dancing around this moment since that first meeting, and she was more than ready, not only in body, but in mind and heart.
Lips still against her neck, he shifted, then pressed something into her hand. “Open, please.”
He took a step away, leaving her cold and needy, and as she fumbled with the condom wrapper, the unmistakable sound of a zipper seemed amplified in the darkness and she shuddered in anticipation.
His hand found hers and relieved her of the half opened wrapper, and after some rustling, and shifting and movement of fabric, she found herself pushed all the way back against the wall, with her skirt rucked up to her waist.
This was it. She’d dreamed of this man since the moment she met him. She was in uncharted territory and way over her head, but this was so right. She needed this. Him. That instant. And he was correct—foreplay and words weren’t necessary. What she needed right then was…
He slipped his hand under one of her knees and hitched her leg around his waist, then guided himself to where he pressed against her entrance, and in one hard thrust, filled her completely.
…that.
Both of them groaned and he buried his face in her neck, not moving for a moment as her body adjusted, stretching to accommodate him. Nothing. Absolutely nothing could feel better than this. She took a shuddering breath and held on for dear life, grateful for the wall behind her and the sturdy shoulders in front.
He pulsed inside her as his body strained for control. He was as affected as she, and it was empowering.
Slowly, he pulled almost all the way out and thrust in again, hard. He had told her not to talk, but it felt so right, she couldn’t help the groan that escaped when he slammed into her. He responded with a growl deep in his chest, and then plunged into her again and again, picking up his pace. Yes, she chanted in her head with each harsh thrust, biting her lip to keep from shouting it out loud. Yes, yes, yes. This was perfect. He was perfect. She wrapped her other leg around him and locked her ankles together behind his back as he thrust into her over and over, the hard wall pressing against her spine and his hands digging into her backside.
Never had she experienced raw passion like this. All take, and at the same time, all give. His breath came in harsh gasps as he slammed into her, holding nothing back. The always collected Michael Anderson was out of control, and her own body answered with a tightening that simmered and coiled and pulsed until it was almost unbearable, until finally, she broke apart with a scream she couldn’t hold in. His tempo slowed slightly, and then he thrust up hard and stayed there, muscles shaking as he found his own silent release.
They remained wrapped together up against the wall for several minutes while his breathing slowed and her head cleared.
Finally, he spoke, voice raspy. “I’m so sorry. I forgot to ask: did you want catsup with those fries?”
This was the man she knew hid under the surface. A passionate, powerful, witty man who drove her wild. Giggling, she unwound her legs from his waist and he let her slide down the wall until her feet rested solidly on the floor.
“Wow,” she answered, surprised she could speak at all. “That was…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for adequate words, but couldn’t find any.