Arrogant Devil(92)

I sit down on his lap and touch every surface I can get my hands on. Yes, I realize I’m so close to having him inside me. I can feel him beneath me, stiff and demanding, but now maybe I’m not in the same hurry I was a second ago. I have him right where I want him. All that hard, tan muscle is just sitting there waiting for me to touch it. That chest is just the tip of the iceberg. His shoulders are something else. I take hold of them and try to shake him. He doesn’t budge. I move my hands down to his biceps and squeeze, trying to see if I can close my fist. I make it halfway around.

“It feels like you’re trying to size up what part of me you want to eat first,” he says with a lazy smile.

I smile wickedly, and then I bend down and sink my teeth into his shoulder, not hard, but he still reaches around and grips my ass. I yelp and release him. It’s tit for tat.

I go back to my exploration. I’m charting unmapped territory, staking claims with tiny Meredith Avery flags. It’s important to be thorough. I don’t let a single inch escape my notice, not his tight abs or the hair that trails down, down, down. He’s tan everywhere, warm everywhere, hard everywhere.

“Not in such a hurry now?” he teases, right before he skims his hands up from my ass and grips my hips. He uses his hold on me to drag me back and forth across his length, and I think one of my eyes starts to twitch. He’s taunting me. He’s wearing a devilish smirk I try to wipe away with a kiss, but that was a mistake, because now he’s still dragging me back and forth and he’s kissing me senseless. He slides his tongue into my mouth and this isn’t even foreplay anymore, this is the best sex I’ve ever had and we aren’t even doing it yet. A ripple shoots up my spine, and I pat his shoulder like I’m tapping out of a fight.

“No…no more of that.”

There are heavy, hot breaths in between each of my words.

This is falling apart. I’m falling apart. I was the one to initiate this little bone-a-rama. I was supposed to be the one rocking his world, but there’s no more delaying. We are having sex right now, and if it kills me, then so be it. I lived a good life. Adios.

“I was going to do this sexy thing where I tease you until you’re weeping with want,” I admit.

“Oh yeah?” he taunts. “Go ahead.”

I spin a little circle on his chest. It’s the manliest thing I’ve ever seen, a broad plane with a sprinkling of dark hair.

“Ha ha. Yeah, right. I think I’ve lost feeling in half my body. My heart is only pumping blood to my nether regions.”

“If it helps, I think you’re sexy as hell.”

My brow perks up. “That does help.”

He grinds his very hard, very erect length against me. It’s a sure sign that he’s as turned on as I am. Maybe my plan didn’t backfire as much as I thought it did?

With a burst of courage, I reach down and grip him in my hand. It’s, ahem, bigger than I’m accustomed to, but hey, that’s what they say about things in Texas.

This is happening. He reaches up to grip my hips in his hands, holding some of my weight for me. It makes it easier to push onto one foot and angle myself over him so that together, we can guide me down until he slides into me the first few inches. I hiss, surprised by the tight fit. I ease off a bit, but the second he’s gone, I crave him again.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

It’s sweet, the idea that if I wasn’t okay, we’d stop. He could crack my pelvis and I would demand he keep going.

“Here,” he says, moving my free hand to his shoulder at the same time he lifts some of my weight off him. Now I have a better angle and I can ease down onto him gentler this time, bit by bit so it’s not painful. It’s earth-shatteringly sexy, being filled up while he stares into my eyes, watching for any sign of pain or hesitation. I clench. He groans. I exhale, relax, and he slides deeper.

I’m not all the way on him, but for now, I’m at my limit. I sink down on my knees and wrap my hands around his neck, kissing him and showing him how insanely hot this is, how perfectly right it feels to be here with him.

He brushes my hair behind my shoulder then wraps his palm around my neck. My pulse jumps against his thumb. “How does it feel?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I lean back and smile. The look I’m going for: moonlit goddess of the fields. The look I’m probably nailing: escaped sex addict, armed and dangerous.

I decide to turn the tables.

“How do you feel?”

He looks at me like I’m simple. “Are you kidding?”

“I can back off—”

With lightning speed, his hands move to my waist and he tugs me off him a little before lifting his hips and filling me again. My reaction is a wonderfully sexy eyes-rolling-into-the-back-of-my-head move.

“Again,” I demand like a spoiled toddler. “Moremoremore.”

He lifts me up then drags me back down. I arch my back and my loose hair brushes the base of my spine. I’m staring up at the sky when his lips brush against one of my breasts. I’d forgotten all about my breasts. I’d forgotten they even exist, how amazingly sensitive they feel as he brushes his tongue across them. Hooookay there. This cowboy just became a cowman.

He keeps moving me up and down, on and off him, doing the heavy lifting so I’m left with nothing to do but enjoy the sparks of pleasure building inside me. My nails bite into his shoulders. I’m probably leaving crescent moon-shaped divots, but I don’t care, because my hips are relaxing and eventually, I slide down all the way onto him and his hip bones meet mine and now this is the point at which my brain can no longer translate simple messages. It exists solely to process his mouth on my breasts and his hand circling between my thighs and his hardness filling me up.