Below the Belt(34)

Jesus H. If the mention of her mother hadn’t softened his hard-on, nothing would. “Get back here and let’s put those suckers to good use, then.”

She pranced, just a little, but danced out of reach when he tried to grab a leg to pull her back in. “I dunno, you look pretty good there. Maybe we should do some stretches first.” Her eyes widened with anticipation. “Oh, some downward dog would be nice. For you, of course.” Her face turned serious and she held the hand gripping the condoms over her heart. “I’m just thinking of your own strength and flexibility. Wouldn’t want you to pull a hammie while we’re doing the mattress limbo.”

“I’ll risk it.” He took one more wild grab for her, managed to connect with her forearm and pulled until she tumbled over the top of him. Her warm, soft skin moved over his so sensually he was ready to burst into flames. “Normally, I’m a lot smoother, but right now I’ve got to get inside you.”

“So much for foreplay,” she complained, but she winked to show she was joking.

“Sweetheart, it seems like anytime I’m alone with you, it’s foreplay.”

Her eyes softened at that. “I think that was really sweet. In a sexual sort of way.” She tore one packet off the line, dropped the rest on the nightstand, and handed it over. “I suck at this.”

In five seconds flat, he was ready to go. He gripped the tops of her thighs as she maneuvered over him. But when he would have positioned his cock, she shook her head. “Let me. I want to do it all.”

Far be it from him to deny her. He raised his arms away, hands laced behind his head, and watched while she rubbed the head of his erection through her slick center. The friction against his sensitive head was exquisite, a stolen moment of foreplay in an otherwise straight-to-the-good-stuff scene. From the way her eyelids fluttered half-closed, he knew she was doing it intentionally.

Marianne Cook knew what she wanted, and was willing to take it, literally, into her own hands to get it.

There was nothing sexier in the world to him at that moment than Marianne Cook.

He felt her body give way as she sank down onto him, pushing his hands back as he tried to steady her. “I’ve got this.”

Realizing she was serious, and wanted no help, he let his arms fall to his sides and rubbed his thumbs over her knees. That, at least, she didn’t see as getting in the way.

Back arched, she rolled and flexed her hips until he was fully inside her. He shivered with the delicious feeling. Then she took it a step further and reached behind her, placed her hands flat on the bed beside his calves, and pulsed.

If his eyes didn’t cross from the pleasure, he’d have been shocked. He fought hard to keep his body still while she experimented with the rhythm she wanted, then worked it until they were both panting. Her entire body was out of reach except for where they were joined. He watched her breasts bounce gently with each thrust, and his arms flexed with the frustration of not being able to cup those soft mounds, to run his fingers over the puckered tips, to feel how they changed as her breathing became more labored.

Next time, he swore. Because there would absolutely be a next time.

She arched even more, and he admired the curve of her torso, the tilt of her neck, the muscles of her thighs as she held the impossible position like it was nothing.

He took the chance to touch her when he felt his orgasm creeping up. With his thumbs, he opened her top folds and exposed her clitoris. He touched with just the tip of one finger, and she nearly bolted off him from the contact.

“Oh, God, do that again,” she panted, her speed increasing, her insides clenching around his cock. “Do it again.”

He was a good Marine. He knew how to follow orders. He pressed and rubbed against that little bundle of nerves until she whimpered, rotated her hips hard around the base of his cock then arched back up like she was ascending through the ceiling with the most magnificent orgasm he’d ever witnessed.

The visual pleasure of watching her come sent him tumbling over the edge of his own climax unexpectedly. And closing his eyes, he released the tension that had been building inside him for months and let go.


*

MARIANNE waited until he moved first. Or, he was first if you didn’t count her not-so-majestic flop over his sweat-slicked body.

How was it she had never felt more sexy, more sensual, more womanly in her entire life than when Brad had been inside her, and then thirty seconds after they were finished, she flopped over like a breaching humpback whale?

Nothing said, Yes please, do me again, like imitating the world’s largest mammal post coitus.

“That,” he said as he shifted a little, “was pretty much epic.”

Her hand ran down his chest in answer.

He picked up her hand and wiped it with the corner of the bed sheet. “Sorry. That probably grossed you out.”

“What, the sweat?” She propped herself up on one elbow. “Hardly. Sweat’s a daily hazard for me, if you couldn’t tell. If I hated sweat, I chose the world’s dumbest profession.”

His lips twitched at that. “That’s probably true. Like a doctor who hates blood.”

“Or a lawyer who hates liars.”

“A teacher who hates kids.”

“A Marine who hates guns.”

“Doesn’t exist,” he said firmly, and she laughed.