She slides slowly down my body. With the taste of her release still on my tongue, I capture her mouth, wrapping my arms around her back and dragging her against me until our bodies are practically one. Her breasts press into my chest and her nipples pebble against my skin as I grope the globes of her ass and squeeze them.
My dick might explode.
Pressed between our bodies, she grinds her hips against my cock and I almost come. It’s like I’m fifteen again, fooling around with Jessica Boswell under the bleachers at the high school football field.
It’s been so long since someone but me touched me there, the instant her hand circles me, I’m going to blow.
Don’t lose it, Savage.
She pulls back from my mouth, pressing her lips to my neck and kissing, sucking, and licking her way across my chest.
I close my eyes, relishing the touch of her lips and hot breath floating across my sensitive skin.
Moving slowly down my body, she reaches my stomach, exploring every groove with her tongue. I’m wound so tight, I’m physically shaking trying to control my reaction to her touch.
It’s incredible, and, for a brief moment, I’m able to forget I’m different than any other man, that this is different than every other time I’ve been with a woman in my life.
But, as her hand slides down to the waistband of my pants, the racing in my heart changes nature, from thrilling and electrifying, to chilling and alarming.
A cold sweat breaks out over my body and my cock deflates.
She can’t know. What just happened?
I quickly grab her wrist, stopping her just as she moves to slip her hand beneath the waistband.
Her head jerks up, her eyes searching my face for an explanation. Hoping I can do a good job of concealing my fear, I pull her captured hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to the center of her palm and then offer her a what-I-hope-is-convincing grin.
The question in her gaze is evident.
Shit, say something.
“This is about you, Danika, not me. Why don’t we make some breakfast?” The look of confusion on her face dissipates, but doesn’t completely disappear. She watches me intently, waiting for some further explanation. “Aren’t you hungry?”
Let me change the subject. Please, don’t push this right now.
My heart continues to race while she studies me for what feels like an eternity. Finally, she lets out a resigned sigh and climbs up to press a gentle kiss to my lips.
“Starved,” she says before rolling off my body and climbing off the side of the bed. “I want to hop in the shower quick, though. Do you mind?”
Oh, thank God.
Shifting up onto my elbows, I watch her perfect ass shake as she walks toward the bathroom. She stops and turns back to me at the door, waiting for my answer.
“No, I don’t mind. You shower and I’ll start on breakfast.”
She smiles, and the moment the door clicks closed, I drop back onto the bed, pressing my palms into my eyes in frustration.
What the fuck was that, Savage? A beautiful woman wants to touch your very hard cock and you have to stop her?
The water starts running in the bathroom and I try to shake off the momentary lapse of sanity.
Get your shit together, Savage.
I grab my t-shirt and yank it on before getting in my chair and leaving the bedroom. Thinking about Danika naked and wet in my shower is going to do nothing to help my blue balls.
Forcing myself to concentrate on putting together breakfast, I don’t even notice she’s done in the bathroom until I hear her soft footsteps on the wood floor of the living room ten minutes later. She appears at the entry to the kitchen in that damn tiny skirt and another one of my t-shirts.
For reasons I can’t even begin to fathom, the fact she had to go into my closet to get it doesn’t upset me. In fact, knowing she feels comfortable enough to do that without asking actually makes me insanely happy.
You have it bad!
She moves into the kitchen and leans down against the center island. I grin at her and the smile she returns lights up her entire face. “Can I help?”
“If you want to grab the coffee pot and some orange juice from the fridge, that would be great.”
“On it,” she says, turning to the fridge and yanking the door open. I curse myself for not keeping the juice on the lowest shelf so she would have to bend over to get it.
She meets me at the table and moans when she sees her plate piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “Oh, my God, this looks so damn good! I’m starving.”
“You’re hungover.”
Glaring at me, she digs her fork into the eggs and takes an enormous bite, another moan slipping from her throat. It’s the same sound she makes when I have her pussy against my mouth and my dick hardens remembering this morning. I reach down and adjust it, discreetly, I hope, before returning to my plate.