Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(65)

Great sex.

But tonight, as they stood facing each other with only the streetlight from her window illuminating her bedroom, it felt different.

Special.

Important.

She didn’t want it to be important. She wanted it to be spontaneous, and fun, and safe, and— Penelope’s thoughts scattered as Cole slowly, methodically unbuttoned his dress shirt, and tossed it aside.

His eyes never left hers as he kicked off his shoes and then stripped off the rest of his clothes.

Her mouth dropped open at his boldness, and he smiled. “You did say you liked me naked.”

She tried to speak, but her mouth was dry.

He stepped forward and rested his hands on her waist before dipping his head and brushing his lips along the side of her throat.

Penelope sighed his name, and his hands slipped under her shirt, his fingers hot on her back as his mouth explored her neck.

He tugged her shirt over her head, then his lips captured hers in an erotic kiss that reminded her of hot, sultry summer nights, even though it was only June.

Cole’s hands flicked her bra open, his hands sliding forward to cover her with warm palms as she arched her back. Together they moved toward the bed, tumbling onto it in a graceless heap without their mouths ever breaking contact.

Cole’s fingers went to the button of her pants, and she helped him, wiggling them down her legs until she could kick them aside.

She crawled over him then, shamelessly rubbing her naked body against his, relishing the contrast of their bodies, hard against soft, rough against smooth, big against small.

Cole’s hands were on her butt, her thighs, then he slipped one finger under the fabric of her underwear, sliding down until he found her wetness.

He slipped a finger inside, then a second.

Penelope moaned as he slowly thrust his two fingers in and out of her, his eyes latching onto hers. His eyes were dark with want. Want for her. For this.

But for how long?

Driven by a sudden, desperate fear that their days as lovers were numbered, Penelope rode his hand harder until she came with a shuddering, harsh climax that was both too much and not nearly enough.

Before the last shudder had ripped through her, Penelope moved off him, digging around in her nightstand until she found a condom.

She’d never felt this frantic. Greedy. She’d never wanted like this.

Cole started to reach for the condom, but she batted his hand aside, instead rolling it on herself.

Then she peeled off her underwear and resumed her position on top of him, feeling heady with a strange feminine power at the flare of lust in his eyes.

“Penelope—”

She found his hands, kissing his knuckles before she pinned his hands above his head.

He was twice her size. He could easily fling her off and take control.

He didn’t.

“I’m all yours,” he said gruffly.

That was all it took.

Three simple words, and Penelope’s inhibitions flew out the window.

For years, she’d been thinking she wasn’t good at this. That she wasn’t sexy. That she wasn’t worth wanting.

Years of ridiculousness fixed by three words from one magnificent man.

Acting on instinct, Penelope shifted upward slightly until her nipples brushed softly over his mouth.

Cole lifted his head, his tongue fluttering against the tip of one breast before blowing cold air against it teasingly. In response, she lowered herself farther until he had no choice but to take her nipple into his mouth and suck.

“Cole,” she gasped.

His lips moved to the other breast, all the time keeping his hands pinned to the pillow. He let it be her show. Her moment.

She was tempted to ride the sweet torture forever, but the man’s mouth was too skilled.

She wanted him now. Inside.

Penelope sat up, giving him a naughty look through her lashes as her hand wrapped around him and guided him to her opening. She held his gaze as she slowly sank onto him in one slow, sensuous movement.

Cole’s eyes slitted and his breath grew more ragged as he filled her, but still he didn’t move.

Not until she lifted once more before sinking down onto him, harder this time, deeper, did his hands slide down to her hips with a quiet groan that could have been a prayer or a curse.

Penelope had never been on top before. Thirty-one years old, and she was just now learning what it was like to ride a man. To have all the power.

And just when she thought it couldn’t get any better, Cole licked his fingers and then reached to play with her.

“Let go, Pen.”

She did. She arched back with a victorious cry as she gave herself completely to him.

“Good girl,” he whispered before wrapping both arms around her and rolling her on her back beneath him.

He thrust into her again and again, his eyes holding hers as though trying to tell her something.

She tried to understand—tried to grasp what he was telling her with his body, but she was too far gone with want.

Cole slid an arm behind her neck, cradling her face into the hot, slick skin of his shoulder, whispering her name so reverently she thought she imagined it.

And then he went over the edge, her name a harsh groan on his lips.

Cole stayed lying over her for longer than usual, his breath hot against her temple, as her lips soothed the scratch marks on his shoulder that she didn’t remember making.