Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(34)
“You might not feel the same in the morning.”
“I don’t care about the morning. We’ll deal with it when it comes.”
He kissed her neck, pushing her hair away from her skin there and behind her ear. Savannah had to giggle when she realized he was still looking for hearts. But her smile faltered when an unpleasant thought took root in her mind, growing and unfurling and taking over before she could stop it. “How will you feel in the morning? Do you think I’m horrible?”
“No, Jesus, no. It’s you I’m worried about. I already know what I am.”
“You’re not—”
“Shh. It’s okay.”
Oh, frustrating man. But his hand had slipped between them, working his belt and then the buttons of his fly, and her entire body clenched in anticipation. His other arm, wrapped up from underneath her, still held her fast against him. She loved that, the strength, the possession. The heat of his bare cock slid against her ass and she turned her face deeper into the pillow, hoping she knew what she was getting herself into. Despite an amazing orgasm, her entire lower body surged with renewed need.
Letting her hand creep back between their bodies, she took him in her grasp, so hot, so hard. His hand clenched on her arm and he dropped his head to her neck while she played, giving him light strokes from base to tip, teasing the thick ridge of his crown. No doubt about it; he was going to feel magnificent.
When suddenly he shoved her over on her stomach, she gasped, her heart leaping happily into her throat. His hands stroked down her back, following the curves of her body to her ass, where he gave a gentle smack. “Number three.”
She giggled. The third heart was just above her right cheek. “One more to go. I bet you never find it.”
“I kind of hate the guy who got to give you these.”
“Nothing for you to hate.”
“I do have some good news for you,” he said, piquing her interest.
“Oh yeah?”
He leaned down to kiss her on her tattoo, then moved his teasing lips to the base of her spine. She shivered. “You don’t have to shoplift condoms this time,” he murmured against her skin, and she laughed.
“No? Not this time?”
In answer, she crawled off her and reached over to the nightstand. Still drifting in post-orgasmic bliss, she didn’t watch, only heard his movements: the drawer opening and closing, the box, the foil packet tearing. The sound of latex unfurling. His jeans stripping off the rest of the way. She could only lie there and quake, anticipation and apprehension warring for dominance. Then he was back over her, gently parting her thighs as she nibbled her thumb and closed her eyes.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the curve of her hip and dropping an openmouthed kiss on the back of her neck that made her tremble harder. Big hands grasped her hips and tilted them upward for him. Gasping, she fisted the sheets, waiting with every fiber of her being: breath, blood, life itself.
“Still?” he asked, as she felt him guide himself to her entrance, wide and thick, parting her folds and rubbing between them. When he was positioned, he moved his hands to her ass cheeks, fingers digging in.
“Still,” she confirmed, wiggling back against him though he held her firm. She wanted him inside so badly right then she would have suffered anything to have it, but just as she thought he might give her what she needed, he pulled back with a groan.
“You’re going to feel so f*cking good, Savannah,” he rasped.
“Then take it,” she pleaded. The request, in the sweetest voice she could muster, was all the encouragement he needed. One more slow caress and he was there at her entrance again, his push firm to slip past her initial resistance. There was little. She was still so wet from her climax and his mouth there was no keeping him out. But oh, he was big. She gasped and he paused, giving her time, but she didn’t need much. She craved more. All. Above her, he shuddered with restraint, and her breathy words tumbled out on top of one another.
“More,” she begged, trying to maneuver her legs wider, “more more more—”
All at once, his hands scooped under her body and lifted her so that she sat on his bent legs, in a prime position for his hand to trail down and lazily work her clit as she slid inch by agonizing inch down his cock. She didn’t know how she felt to him, but he was perfection for her. Her eyes rolled back in her head; her head fell back on his shoulder. His other arm crossed her body, his hand going to her opposite breast, beading the nipple between his deft fingers, working all of her hot spots at once. “Oh, f*ck, Michael.” Her head rolled toward him and he was able to catch his name on her lips with a kiss.
“I stand corrected again,” he murmured, thrusting up into her, thrusting the very breath from her lungs. It was everything. Everything she’d been looking for. “So goddamn perfect, Savannah. So perfect.”
She whimpered an incoherent reply as their bodies met again and again, as he reached depths in her no one had been able to discover, body and soul. Matching his rhythm to the swirling goodness of those maddening, strumming fingertips on her clit, and she thought she might lose her damn mind in this man. Sweat trickled between their bodies and slicked their movements against each other; she felt a drop run over her hip, felt wetness trickle from where he invaded her body. Her thighs shook with effort and exertion. She lifted both arms to grasp his head from behind, arching her body so that he hit new places inside her, worked them, made them his. She should have known f*cking him would be a full-body workout.