A SEAL's Courage (Military Match #1)(33)

Lauren gave as good as she got. Her fingers slid into his hair and curled against his scalp, the pressure of her lips against his almost brutal and desperate. Soft mewling noises emanated from the back of her throat, hungry sounds that only increased the ache in his jeans.

All the while she rocked into the pulse of his erection. Her breathing grew rapid and shallow, becoming an erratic huff in between sips and tastes. Every brush of her heat against him shot pleasure to his fucking toes. He needed to slow down. Like hell would he come in his jeans, as if he were some inexperienced kid.

Nor could he force himself to stop her. The quiet mewling became a series of desperate moans that filled his soul. He needed her pleasure. So he skimmed his mouth along her shoulder. Licking. Sucking. Scraping his teeth lightly over the skin exposed by the scoop neckline of her top. He dragged his fingertips up her sides and curled his palms around her breasts. She was a delicious little handful, and her nipples strained against the confines of her bra. He couldn’t resist flicking his thumbs across the tightened tips. She rewarded him with another needy moan and pressed closer, pushing her breasts into his hands.

Her every reaction made his chest swell in triumph. He was the first man to ever touch her this way, which made her feel a little too much like his. Every soft shiver fueled the need burning through him to make this good for her. He wanted her to leave their time together glad she’d experienced it. He wanted to fulfill every single one of her fantasies in a way that was starting to scare the hell out of him.

When she began to tremble in his arms, her thighs shaking on either side of his hips, experience told him her orgasm was close. He turned his head and nuzzled her earlobe. “Let it go, Lauren. Come for me, doll.”

Hands braced on his chest, she shivered and pressed closer. It was almost painful how good it felt. Two layers of thick denim separated them, but he swore he could feel her moist heat sliding along his length as she ground herself against him.

He tried to focus on her, kissing and stroking every part of her he could reach. But every time she rocked into him, his erection strained against his jeans and pleasure erupted over his skin. He hadn’t been with a woman in almost two years, and two years of need built on top of his yearning for her.

So he gave in and simply buried his face in her neck. The musk of her perfume filled his nostrils every time he inhaled. Hands on her ass, he pulled her to him, thrusting against her in time with her own, reveling in the almost unbearable pleasure shooting along his nerve endings every time she ground against him.

“Trent…” That was all the warning he got. With a soft gasp, Lauren dropped her head back and began to shake quietly in his arms. The fluid rocking of her hips became an erratic jerking as her orgasm took over.

Trent froze, awed by the sight above him: her brow furrowed in sweet agony, her soft mouth hanging open in bliss. She didn’t make a sound. He wasn’t even sure she breathed, but holy God damn it had to be the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

By the time she collapsed against him, he was spent and exhausted, and he hadn’t even come.

Lauren panted into his neck, her body limp in his arms. “That was incredible.”

Shaking right along with her, he wrapped his arms around her back, crushing her to him, and kissed her shoulder. “You’re incredible.”

They sat for some time in companionable silence. He was content to simply hold her, stroking her back.

When her trembling lessened and her breathing returned to normal, she finally stirred against his throat. She tilted her head and kissed his neck, then wound her arms around his back. “Can I ask you something? It’s kind of a stupid question.”

He let his fingers follow the delicate curve of her spine. “There are no stupid questions.”

“I wanted to ask if it was good for you, but then it occurred to me. You didn’t come with me, did you?”

“No.” Not that he was sorry for it. If he died tomorrow, he’d die a happy man. He’d gotten to watch her come undone and know he’d been the one to put that bliss on her face. It made him want to beat his chest like a freakin’ ape. He was shaking with the overwhelming desire to make her do it again as many times as he could before her body simply gave out. “I make a bigger mess than you do. Besides, it wasn’t about me just then.”

She lifted her head, brow furrowed, eyes pinning him to his spot. “This is supposed to be mutual. It doesn’t work for me if you get nothing out of this.”

He bit back a laugh. She really had no idea. “Believe me, doll, I got plenty out of that. You’re damn beautiful when you let yourself go.”

She studied him for a moment. Decision apparently made, she reached for the button on his jeans, popping it free, and slipped her hand into his pants. Her supple fingers slid along his cock and curled around his length, her palm warm and soft as it ghosted over his flesh.

“Fuck.” He closed his eyes, dropped his head back against the sofa, and gave himself over to her. He hadn’t been touched by anything other than his own damn hand in almost two years, and her fingers were the closest to heaven he was sure he’d ever get.

When he stopped resisting, she curled her hand more firmly around him. Very quickly, she gained a rhythm, her hand moving at a speed that flat-out amazed and awed him. Every stroke sent heat prickling along the surface of his skin and pleasure spreading like wildfire.

In less than a minute, she had him on the desperate edge of release.