“Please. I’m so wet. I need you.”
It was such a desperate appeal, to deny her would just be cruel. He glided his fingers down her stomach—slowly, after all he was still a prick—while she writhed underneath him until he parted her slick lips and circled her swollen clit.
Her legs parted, her spine bowed, and the words that left her mouth could have been English or another language, he couldn’t tell because he was concentrating too hard on not giving in to every instinct screaming at him to put his hard cock where his fingers were. But just touching her like this wasn’t enough.
He rocked back on his haunches. “Spread your legs.”
She did without hesitation, her core glistening in the moonlight, and all thoughts of taking it slow left him. He had to have more of her. Now. He leaned down, his hands circling her thighs and then going underneath her to cup her ass, lifted her hips, and tasted her. She was so wet, so soft and ready for him as her rolled his tongue over her clit.
Her fingers dug into his scalp as her hips bucked upward, pressing herself more firmly against him. “Make me come.”
His girl wasn’t fooling around anymore. She’d played his game and was obviously now done. Who was he to tell her no? Adding his fingers to the tongue action, he pushed her closer and closer to the edge as her sucked, licked, and rolled her most sensitive spot until he felt her thighs tremble on either side of his face.
“Sawyer,” she cried out as her orgasm hit.
Her heels dug into his back as she rode the wave, and he continued to lap at her core with an ever-softer touch as she began to come down. By the time he sat up, she had that hazy, satisfied look on her face of a woman—his woman—who’d had her world thoroughly rocked. She sighed and gave him that tired smile of hers that brought out the chest-pounding caveman inside him.
“You can mark foreplay off the list for tonight,” he said, brushing a wet kiss across the belly button.
“Thank God,” she said, chuckling as she slapped her hand around the messy mounds of their clothes until she hit his jeans. Without waiting for him to say anything, she grabbed his wallet out of the back pocket and pulled out a condom. “I’m ready for the main event.”
“That makes two of us.”
“I should say so.” Her gaze dropped to his cock and she flipped the condom over to him.
He ripped it open in a rush, rolled it on, and sat back on his ass. “Come here.”
…
Clover’s thighs were still a jiggly mess, her brain drowning in a lust-induced fog, but she managed to make it over to Sawyer. Bracing her hands on his shoulders with her feet on either side of his hips, she watched his face as she lowered herself down onto him inch by inch until he filled her completely. His jaw tightened and the vein in his temple throbbed as he waited for her to adjust to his size. No rushing for him, not even now when they were both so desperate for it. Then, when her muscles relaxed enough from the massive climax she’d just had to let him inside, she wrapped her legs around his back and kept her gaze on his face as she undulated her hips, angling her body so her clit rubbed up against him with every wave.
“God, you feel so good,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
If she could have formed words she would have told him ditto, but his hands were on her back, sliding down to her ass and pushing her down harder on him, and the part of her brain in charge of speech didn’t work anymore. She dug her fingers into the thick muscles of his shoulders, grounding herself to the moment and to him, and lowered her mouth to his. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was hard and yearning and needy. It was a demand she couldn’t voice and a question she couldn’t ask. It was everything in the world that mattered.
Forward and back she rocked against him, taking him deep within her before letting him go. Over and over he buried himself in her, thrusting and retreating until a light sheen of sweat covered them, making it hard for her to hold on to him but she wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t. Her thighs ached. Again and again her core squeezed him every time she raised her hips and took him until he filled her completely, until all her body knew was the sensations of desire and pleasure pouring over her.
Sawyer shifted beneath her, changing the angle of his thrust so that it hit the bundle of nerves inside her opening and she gasped, breaking the kiss. Good didn’t begin to describe it. Mind-blowing was close but still not close enough.
“Fuck.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said, sliding one hand between their bodies and pressing his thumb to one side of her clit.
A jolt of sensation rocketed through her. “Yes.”
He lessened the pressure then reapplied it over and over as she rocked against him, taking his cock in as deep as she could. “That’s it, ride me until you come again.”
As if the mere mention of it was enough to trigger her, the second orgasm hit without warning, turning the night Technicolor and blocking out the rest of the world except for Sawyer.
“God, I love watching that,” he said, each word coming in time with his thrusts as he gripped her hips and moved her up and down. “I’m not—” His climax hit before he could finish the sentence and her name fell from his lips.
By the time he came back to himself, she’d half convinced herself that she’d memorized every line on his face, every strand of his hair, every line of muscle.
“I think you killed me,” he mumbled.
She brushed her lips across his. “Only a little.”
Rolling off Sawyer and laying down on her back, Clover ignored the little voice telling her to be careful—to remember the clock was ticking down the minutes until all of this was over. Being naked next to Sawyer with the stars spread out like a blanket above them and the sound of the water lapping at the shore in time with his breaths, she gave in to the lazy, bone-melting satisfaction that only an amazing orgasm could deliver. She felt too good to listen to the invisible asshole of a naysayer on her shoulder.
Sawyer let out a happy sigh and lay back onto the blanket. “Five minutes and we head in.”
God, he was optimistic. “Make it ten and I’m in.”
“Are you ever not negotiating?”
“I do sleep occasionally.”
He reached out and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Smart-ass.”
“You know me so well.”
“I’m beginning to.” He squeezed her hand.
And a beginning was all they’d get, the little jerk on her shoulder whispered, yanking her out of her post-coital happy haze and throwing her right back down into hard reality. It was for the best, really. Body protesting, she sat up and reached for her panties—and froze. The sticky slickness on her upper thighs didn’t come from her. Confusion. Understanding. Panic. They swept through her one right after the other like a ninety-miles-per-hour wind gust, leaving her heart racing and her lungs heaving.