Fluffy(70)

“What did you think it was?”

Jaw dropping, eyes going wide, I look away, horrified that I'm in bed with Will, we're both naked, and I have to explain that I thought he popped the stack a little too early. Jumped the gun. Put the cart before the horse. Rode ahead of the hounds.

“Umm...”

Booming laughter fills the room. He's next to me, head propped up on one hand, elbow supporting him. As he laughs, the bed shakes, his abs curling in. My hand is on his chest and I feel his genuine hilarity coming through as he realizes what I assumed.

“Oh, no. No, Mal,” he gasps, muscles I didn't know torsos even possessed making their debut before my eyes. “That's not–I didn't already–”

I kiss him.

Hard.

Curling his body over mine, he presses me back against the mattress, belly to belly, lips to lips, tongues moving as we stick together in harmony.

No. Really. We literally stick together.

Still laughing, Will peels himself off me, bending down to lick a spot between my breasts. “Mmmmm. We need more.”

“You're serious?”

His fingertip grazes my nipple with a decidedly sticky touch. “Of course. I never joke about Fluff. Or sex. Watching you that day you were in my parents' kitchen, licking Fluff off that spoon, made me wonder what you would look like licking it off my cock.” His tongue pokes out to swipe a drop from my nipple. “Naked.”

I swoon.

“I–” My voice breaks as he sucks the Fluff off my breast, his tongue twirling with a hot, wet warmth that makes me start to shake. “I draw the line at peanut butter.”

“Mallory Monahan, the human Fluffernutter.”

“Hah! No. Peanut butter is not meant to be combined with marshmallow. It's meant to be combined with chocolate in a Reese's Cup.”

“Two great tastes that taste great together,” he murmurs as he kisses my belly.

“No peanut butter on my body!”

“Then I guess I have to find another great taste.” With that, those masterful quarterback hands part my thighs, and Will uses another body part to display a highly developed skill, his tongue finding me wet, willing, and–oh!

Digging my fingernails into his shoulders as he goes down on me is like being allowed to touch a priceless sculpture at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. Like I'm alone at an after-hours event for very important guests.

But I'm the only guest.

And the art touches me back.

While his tongue paints brushstrokes between my legs, his mastery making me lift my hips for more, his hands roam. Big and strong, smooth and warm, they ride up over my belly, memorizing my ribs, finding my breasts and intuiting what I want–a fluttering stroke, a hard pinch, a smooth, flowing exploration of my ass, my hips and lower back, moving to my forearms and wrists.

When he reaches for my hand and interweaves our fingers, I come.

Hard.

The intensity of my climax catches me unaware, the surprise greater than my own thoughts, pleasure making my body say Yes, whisper It's my turn now, gasp Oh, God, and let this man I've wanted for so long show me how much he wants me, too. Releasing yourself to another person with the fullness of trust makes sex so much better.

And Will's perfect technique doesn't hurt, either.

I'm at that point where wave after wave makes me hyper-sensitive, my instinct to move away, to stop him, to say enough building inside, but then a second burst of pleasure makes me lose myself in his touch, his attention, the way his tongue seems to know exactly what to do to make me want him even more.

Accepting this from Will gives my orgasms an edge that makes me fall in love with him, all the way, without reservation.

Too soon, my mind hisses.

Finally, my heart beams.

He's kissing me, fast and wet, and my hands find his ass, his chest, his jaw, his hair, my mouth smashed against his, the taste of me lingering on him as he whispers my name, “Mallory,” interrupting the glow of my skin, the beautiful swell of my heart, the chiseled gorgeousness of his naked body, and the very real moment when I roll a condom over his glorious shaft and invite him in, my legs wide, my heart wider.

And instead of rushing in, he pauses.

The sweetest kiss ever accompanies the slow, steady, sultry feel as Will Lotham makes love to me, all the way.

All the way.

Dropping his chin, he skims it across my nipples, replacing the sandpapery feel with his mouth, the juxtaposition of disparate sensations making me shiver. Heavy above me, but held by strong muscle, his skin is intoxicating. I breathe him in and clench around him as steady strokes build an urgency inside me.

“Will,” I gasp, palms loving the feel of his shoulders working as his athletic body moves against mine, the two of us using motion to make something greater.

He stops. “Mal? You want me to–” Gentlemanly and inquiring, he's checking in to make sure I'm pleased.

Widening my hips, I take him in deeper, heels pressed against ass muscles that don't budge. “I want you. This. More of this. I'm so close, Will.”

“Again?” Pride makes him grin.

“Again. You seem to know exactly what to do to me to make me feel everything I’ve ever wanted to feel with you,” I confess.

Our gaze fixes for a long time, the deep sense of blending with him, body, heart, and mind making me disappear into him, more real than ever, less distinct, too. We’re combining, his mouth on mine for a long, savoring kiss, and then he says, “Remember what you wrote in my yearbook?” A hot current flows between us, his pause making me feel even closer to him at the same time my body is so, so ready. On edge and half out of my mind, I take in his words and nearly answer with “I love you.”