Edge of Midnight (McClouds & Friends #4)(84)

Oh, please. Again? This was beyond ridiculous. This was insane.

He smiled into her eyes. “Sleeping beauty,” he whispered.

He was outrageously beautiful when he smiled. She was so dazzled, she just smiled helplessly back as he rolled on top of her, and entered her. Her inner flesh fluttered in protest at the slow stretch, sore from all the unaccustomed sex, but she was too aroused to care. He gathered her into his arms and moved, staring into her eyes with fierce intensity, as if he were trying to tell her something.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, and moved with him, trying to listen.

It was a slow dance, a lazy, sensual heaven of tender intimacy. He started kissing her, his warm, soft lips coaxing hers open, exploring, claiming. The thrust of his tongue in her mouth echoed the thrust of his penis. She had never felt so alive. She was so present in her body it was almost frightening. Everything was so bold and sharp. She surged against him, rocking on heaving waves of delicious sensation.

She didn’t want it to end, but the shimmering glow between her legs kept growing until it brightened and swelled to bursting. The wave carried her sweetly away. When she drifted back, she found him still inside her, still hard. She blinked at him. “Um, didn’t you come?”

“I had more orgasms than I can count.” He kissed her jaw, nuzzled her throat. “I just didn’t ejaculate.”

She lifted her head, blinking. “Don’t you need to?”

“There’s no law says I have to.” His voice was soft with amusement. “And I’m not wearing latex.”

“Oh. There is that,” she murmured. “I didn’t know guys could do that. Is this another one of your dancing bear tricks?”

He grinned his appreciation. “You could say that. It’s just manipulating energy, controlling your breathing, knowing what muscles to squeeze, and when. It’s a trick of concentration.”

“And practice, too, right?” An edge crept into her voice. “Years of daily practice, I bet.”

He slanted her a cautious look. “You always start whaling on me when we get anywhere near that subject. I’m tired of being pounded.”

He dragged himself slowly out of her body, with a long, hissing indrawn breath of pleasure, and flopped onto his back. His penis lay stiff and hard against his belly. Gleaming wet from her juices.

She gazed at him, bemused. “You can just leave it like that?”

Mischief flashed in his eyes. “You want some more?”

“No, thanks,” she said hastily. “I’m done for now. It just looks like you’re, ah, not done. In the least.”

Sean was enjoying himself hugely. “I’ll live,” he said, his voice offhand. He stroked his penis and brought his hand up to his face, inhaling. “Your smell makes my mouth water. Can I go down on you?”

“Um…actually…” She stared at him for a long moment, and gave in to the impulse. “I have a better idea.”

She rolled over and reached for him, gripping the broad stalk of his penis, and took him in her mouth, tasting herself as well as his own hot salt tang. He groaned, shuddered. “Oh, God, Liv.”

She murmured something soothing, petting and licking him.

It was by no means easy to perform fellatio on a guy of his proportions. Particularly since her jaw was still sore from her pit-bull imitation with T-Rex. She didn’t care. She wanted this. She was hungry to pleasure him, to reduce him to a state of writhing desperation.

Hungry to wrest the sexual upper hand away from him, for once.

But he gave it to her generously, abandoning himself with his usual wholehearted sensuality. He curled his body over hers, clutching her hair, her back, shivering and moaning his incoherent appreciation.

He reached down and touched her cheek when she took a moment to breathe and relax her jaw. “Stop if you’re tired,” he said gently.

She milked him with her hands, smiling. “Gotta get going early if I want to make a dent in that forty-eight-hundred-dollar bill.”

Laughter jerked in his chest, but he tilted her face up again. “You know that’s just a joke, right?” His eyes looked worried. “I know I come on strong, but if you don’t want it, it stops. Is that clear?”

“Um, OK,” she faltered. “Does that mean you don’t want…?”

“Fuck, no.” The words burst out of him. “I love it. I’ll beg, plead, suck your toes. But you decide when and how much. Understand?”

“Um, yes, thanks,” she said demurely. “Can I continue, now?”

He ignored the question, caressing her cheek with his fingertips. “This means a lot to me,” he said. “I don’t want to mess it up.”

The earnest, worried look in his eyes made her heart swell with tenderness. “You’re not,” she told him. “Believe me, you’re not.”

She tried to scoot back down and pick up where she’d left off, but he grabbed her and spun his body around until they were sixty-nined.

“I can’t wait,” he said. “Let me play, too.”

He pushed her thigh up and put his mouth to her.

Liv stiffened, at first. Sixty-nining was not her thing. Oral sex required concentration, and to have the guy bend her into a pretzel and stick his face between her legs, tickling and prodding while she tried to pull it off…um, no. In her opinion, a proper blow job, like driving an expensive sports car, or chopping vegetables with a sharp knife, was a thing best done without serious distractions.