Confetti Hearts (Confetti Hitched, #1)(82)

“Of course, I would. I’m married,” he says in patent astonishment.

“I know,” I say softly, soothing his agitation. “I know. Come to me,” I whisper, and he shudders. He grabs the bottle of lube and a condom, rising in one powerful motion that makes my mouth dry. There’s always such strength and power in Lachlan’s moves. He pauses by the bed, looking down at the condom.

“Lachie?”

His mouth twitches at the nickname, and then he looks up at me. “Do I need this?” he asks tentatively.

“The condom?”

He nods. “I haven’t been with anyone since you and I were together, and you haven't either.”

“You know I haven’t. But we always used them before.” It was something that used to bother me—his insistence on using them. It had caused a worrying doubt over whether he was shagging other men.

He frowns. “I know. I was stupid about that too. It was like another tiny barrier to keep you at a distance.”

“And now we don’t need that?” My heart is hammering so hard I can hear it in my ears as I wait for his answer. It seems tremendously important.

“I don’t.” He palms the foil square. “It’s up to you, Joe. If you want me to, I’ll happily put one on. I still can’t believe we’re doing this, and I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

“You can’t. You haven’t.” I hesitate. “Throw it away,” I say suddenly.

He arches one eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes,” I say, and I suddenly am, and I want this so desperately. To feel his come inside me. “Yes, I’m sure.” He smiles, and it’s so wide and almost joyful that I stare at him. “You okay?”

“Never better,” he says, throwing the condom on the floor and pacing over to me. The firelight limns his body, and I lie back on the bed, spreading my legs as he climbs onto the mattress and kneels between my thighs. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, taking my calves and winding them around his narrow hips.

“That’s you,” I say softly.

Our mouths meet in a soft kiss that’s somehow innocent despite the debauchery of our previous sex life. Then he slides his tongue over my bottom lip, making me gasp, and our tongues meet, sending the mood straight back to frantic.

Within seconds, he’s lying over me, my legs wrapped around him, our cocks sliding together. I pant out vague words, filling my palms with the meaty globes of his arse and trying to get him closer and closer as we kiss until we gasp for breath. Finally, he pulls away and sits back on his heels, keeping my legs open with a firm hand, and I lie back. My cock is throbbing, and he’s in no better condition, his thick club of a dick reaching up to his belly button.

I close my eyes, hoping I won’t come at the sight, and then they fly open as he grabs the back of my neck and hauls me up into another kiss, his big palms spanning my face. The gesture is commanding and so hot, and we kiss again until he pushes me back and reaches for the lube, pouring a stream onto his fingers.

I widen my legs obediently, feeling no shame as he stares avidly at my hole. Finally, he traces the opening with his finger, and I groan, grinding my head into the pillow as he gently pushes the tip in. “You’re so tight,” he whispers, his face serious as he watches the movement of his hand.

“Well, you’d better loosen me up, then,” I order.

His mouth quirks, but he stays silent even as I writhe on the mattress, twisting my hands in the sheets and pulling at the linen as he opens me up. He’s steady and as attentive as he ever was. He’s such a conundrum, my Lachie. Hard and forceful in bed but with the gentlest hands that always make me feel safe. It’s why he’s the best I’ve ever had.

Finally, I’ve had enough. “I’m ready,” I gasp. I’m sweating freely, hair wet on my neck, pulse pounding, and he’s no better. His breathing is fast, his cheekbones ruddy, and his eyes bleary. “Please, Lachie.”

“Yes,” he mumbles and lowers himself over me. “Tell me to stop if it hurts.” It touches me how he never forgets his size and how careful he is with me.

I grab his bum as he notches the head of his cock against me. Then he pushes, and we both gasp as the head pops in.

“Oh fuck,” I moan.

He pauses and groans deep and low. “God, you’re so hot and tight. It’s incredible without a rubber.” He moves his hips restlessly, making tiny little motions. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he gasps, kissing me frantically as he pushes his way in slowly and steadily, pausing every few seconds to see if I’m okay. When he bottoms out, I feel his balls against my arse. It’s a sweet relief, and I clutch him.

I won’t lie—the pressure is strange and a little painful after the months of abstinence, and I’m stuffed so full I can feel him in my belly. But he waits, lying on me and distracting me with deep, wet kisses until I feel pleasure start to kindle. Then, he moves and grazes my prostate, making me arch like a rainbow.

“There?” he asks hoarsely.

“Oh god, yes,” I groan, grabbing at him with frantic hands. “Please move. I need you.”

He nods, his eyes blind with lust. “Fucking hell, you’re so sweet,” he gasps, starting to move. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”