Big Rock(37)

I laugh lightly then peel her fingers from her lips. “Yes, it’ll fit,” I say, answering the question I know is on the tip of her tongue.

“How did you know I was going to ask that?”

I don’t answer her. Instead, I ask another question as I set the condom wrapper next to her on the table. “Want to know why I say that?”

“Why?”

I drag my fingers along her slippery heat. “Because you’re so wet, I’ll slide inside you nice and easy.” Then I reach for her hand. “Now, touch my cock.”

She draws an excited breath and wraps her hand around my shaft, and I groan with decadent pleasure. She runs her hand up and down my dick, and her touch ignites me. My whole body combusts as she strokes my cock. Every inch of me is ablaze with so much want. I stand between her legs, and she’s perched on the edge of my table, naked and already glowing from her first orgasm, and this moment is about as f*cking perfect as a moment can be.

She plays with me for another minute, her nimble fingers exploring my shaft. A rumble works its way up my chest from the soft, delicious friction of her hands. When she spreads a bead of liquid over the head of my dick, I can’t take it any longer.

“Need to be inside you,” I say, and I run my hands along her thighs, spreading her legs wider for me. Reaching for the condom, I gently tear open the wrapper and slide it on.

With my hips, I nudge her legs more open, and slide the head against her wetness. Her eyes roll back, and she rocks against me, seeking me out.

I loop my fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “Put it in,” I tell her, in a rough voice that leaves no room for argument.

Wrapping her hand around the base, she rubs the tip of my dick against her *, then slides it inside, inch by inch. I let her lead. Let her take me as she can. At one point, she inhales sharply.

“Does it hurt?” I ask.

She shakes her head, lets go of my dick, and wraps her arms around my neck. “No. It feels so good.”

That’s my cue. I ease in the rest of the way, and then still myself when I’m inside her.

Because…hell.

Heaven.

Bliss.

This is it.

Me. Right now. This moment in time.

Her wet heat is intense. Everything, everything, everything about this feels so incredibly good.

Her fingers thread their way into my hair. I clasp her hips and start to move, giving her time to adjust. I watch her expression, the concentration in her brown eyes as she gets used to me. I follow her cues, giving slow, lingering thrusts, until she relaxes completely, letting me fill her. Her knees fall open, her mouth softens, and she nods.

Finally she locks her gaze to mine and whispers, “Fuck me.”

Two words that light up every inch of my skin.

As I f*ck her, she f*cks me back. I sink deeper inside and she matches me, rising up to meet me. We set a rhythm, and we are more than in synch. We mesh.

I try to take in every sensation of our first time. The flush that darkens the skin of her chest. The scent of vanilla lotion on her shoulders. Her noises, like a woman unleashed.

Her lips are swollen and parted, and they’re begging to be kissed. I dip my head to her mouth, capturing her lips as I thrust into her. We kiss—rough, hard, sloppy, mixed with sighs that tell me she’s in another world, but that world is right here with me.

I slide my hands under her thighs, and she raises her legs up higher.

“Wrap them around me,” I tell her.

She hooks her ankles around my back. “Like that?”

“Just like that,” I repeat, then close my eyes as the pressure becomes almost too much. My quads tighten, and I can only imagine how incredible it will be to come inside her. But I stave it off as she rocks up into me.

I drive harder and deeper, hitting some spot within her that trips a switch. She gasps, shuddering. She tugs me tighter with her crossed ankles, and this is it. This is how I will take her to the edge, all tight and snug around me. Beneath me. Under me. She writhes and bucks, and she starts to lose control.

“Oh God, oh God,” she moans, and her noises turn feral, echoing in my ears.

Her body is like water, like fire. She is all the elements, all woman, all vulnerable, soft, strong femininity.

She cries out—a long, low, endless, gorgeous cry. She raises her face to me, clutching her hands around my neck, hunting, and searching. In a flurry, her lips are on my ear, and she whispers, as if I needed the corroboration, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Like a chant.

And, f*ck, I was wrong if I thought this moment couldn’t get any sexier. It did. It has. Hearing her say that in my ear, hearing her tell me she’s there even though I already know, is the hottest thing ever. Because she simply had to voice it.

I join her, f*cking her hard to my own release, inside her at last.

A minute later, after our breathing settles, I brace for the awkward to set in. But it doesn’t arrive. Not as I pull out, grab the condom, and toss it into the trash can. Not as I return to her and kiss her eyelids. Not as she heads to the bathroom to clean up. And not as I ask her if she wants to watch another episode when she walks back into the living room.

Still nude.

We watch Castle and Beckett attempt to solve another murder.

We return to who we were, munching on gummy bears and pouring more margaritas and guessing plot twists, until I tug her close and Charlotte Viagra kicks back in. Soon, we’re going for round two, this time on my couch, and it’s not long until I hear my new favorite song as she does that thing again where she moves her lips against my ear to tell me she’s coming.