Page 48

I gave a hoarse whimper as John licked up the remnants of my climax, then flushed at the sound of his tortured groan. My foot was still on his shoulder. When I lowered it, however, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me toward him, off the bed and into his arms. I tasted my orgasm on his lips, felt his hands roving over my entire body, tugging at my nightgown.

I pulled his shirt over his head and savoured the feel of his naked skin against mine. He was emitting heat like a furnace, and I clung to him, wanting him inside me. Everything became a blur of delicious sensations, drugging in their intensity: the breath being knocked out of me as John pivoted us toward the floor; my bare backside hitting the plush rug; the exquisite sting of John’s teeth as he bit his way down my body, lost to passion. I hardly remembered getting undressed, yet I was naked as the day I was born, exposed, waiting for him to devour me, to breathe me in and never breathe out again.

He hovered over me, his length an inch from my entrance, panting. His pupils were blown wide, and his lean muscles rippled as he held himself back, as if waiting for permission. As far as I was concerned, he needed none.

“Come home,” I whispered to him, pressing kisses against his jaw. “Please.”

Tender emotion flitted across his face. He pulled my lips to his, pressing inside me at the same time his tongue flicked into my mouth. We both cried out as we were reunited at last.

“Yes,” John hissed by my ear. “Oh fuck, baby. You’re so tight. Does it hurt?”

I was tighter—the result of being away from him for weeks—but I was wet enough that the snug fit simply sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I liked being able to feel him, deep within me, stretching me.

“No,” I whispered. “It feels perfect.”

He gave a hoarse chuckle. “Good. I could die happy here.”

In spite of everything, I giggled.

“Don’t die,” I murmured, kissing him gently. “Show me how much you’ve missed me instead.”

He hesitated. “It’s not gonna be slow and sweet this time. I can’t. I need to fuck you deep; in every position I can handle until I lose it.”

I inhaled sharply. “Then do it.”

His jaw briefly worked before he thrust into me hard, pulling a sigh from deep in my chest. His lips latched onto my neck, kissing and sucking, and he took me like a man possessed, pumping into me with abandon and making short, animalistic grunts, ravenous and untamed. Each thrust brought me white-hot pleasure; the feeling of him filling me was almost more than I could bear. He lifted my leg up high on his hip, going deeper, and I moaned desperately, raking my nails across his back. He groaned in equal parts pleasure and pain, bearing down on me more voraciously than ever.

Just when I thought he’d reached his limit, John pulled out and flipped me onto my front, then took me from behind on all fours. I gave a sharp gasp as the palm of his hand came down hard on my backside, then rested my forehead against the floor, panting. Take all of me, I told him silently. All of me is yours.

He worked himself almost to climax again before withdrawing, leaving me sobbing with pleasure. My own need for release had returned with a vengeance, and so I was relieved when he lay back on the rug and moved me to straddle him.

“Ride me, sweetheart,” John groaned. “Please. I want to watch you.”

Fresh arousal coiled tightly inside me at his words, and I lowered myself onto him, exhaling sharply as I took him deep again. My back arched as my hand slipped between my legs, eager to relieve some of the ache that had returned to my clit. I stroked myself in circles as I lifted and dropped my hips in the rhythm that pleased him most. Aware that I was giving him a show, I let my head fall back and my mouth open on a moan.

“You make me feel beautiful,” I panted, emotion swelling in my chest as he watched me, enraptured.

“You are,” John replied, his own breathing laboured. “I could come just watching you. Fuck, you ride my cock so well.”

He made a choked sound when I sped up, my breasts bouncing. I was already so close again, so near bliss. Sweat beaded on John’s forehead, and I knew he was trying to hold back for my sake, but I didn’t want him to. I ground my hips harder against his, eager to see him lose control.

“I love you, my heart,” he gasped out, his gaze still glued to me. “Come, baby. Come now.”

It was a plea, an order, and a warning: he wasn’t going to last. Seconds later, he stifled his bellow of release with his fist, his fingertips digging into my thigh. At the first rush of him inside me, I followed, my vision briefly whiting out as the pleasure radiated from my core all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

Even in the midst of his own climax, his gaze held a reverence that I felt down to my bones. I returned his gaze, not breaking it until we collapsed onto the rug in a heap, too exhausted to move.

“We never even made it to bed,” I said blearily a few minutes later, curled against John’s side. “It was two feet away.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss against my head. “No time for that. Not tonight.”

At the mention of time, I started and sat up. “How long has it been? Do you have to—”

John glanced at his watch, then drew me back down into a soft kiss. “It’s okay. It’s been just under an hour. We’re fine.”

I relaxed into his embrace, and he threaded his fingers through my hair, like he often did after our lovemaking at home.

“You scratched the hell out of my back, you know,” he said, light and playful.