Into the Storm (Signal Bend #3)(83)

As his tongue found hers, she pulled off his beanie, then wrapped her arms around him and lay back, bringing him with her. But she missed her aim, coming down off the edge of the couch, and they started to fall. He braced his leg and caught them, laughing into her mouth. Instead of bringing her back onto the couch, he let her momentum carry them to the floor, onto the thick, pale carpet. He pushed a table out of his way and lay on her, still kissing her hard, thrusting his tongue against hers.

He was wearing a t-shirt, and she was grabbing at the hem. He rose onto his knees and dragged it over his back and head, throwing it away. She undid the buttons on her cotton shirt in the meantime, and when it was open, he lifted her and helped her get rid of it. She went back for the hooks of her bra, but he stopped her, grabbing her hands and shaking his head when she looked up at him with a question in her eyes.

“Leave it.” That bra was so damn pretty, all colorful flowers and lace. She had the most beautiful underwear, all of it sinfully sexy but not slutty. It just felt and looked fantastic.

Leaving her bra, he worked on her jeans instead, and she ripped open his belt and fly at the same time.

He felt her hands shaking against his belly.

“God! I want you so bad. God, Show.”

He moved faster.

In their haste, they ended up tangled and caught more than once, but finally he was naked and she was in that glorious flowery lingerie. He lay on her again, kissing her and reveling in the sleek rise of her amazing tits on his chest, cupping one in his hand and bringing its nipple to attention with his thumb, feeling her skin pebbling under the silk.

She broke away with a gasp. “I want to be on top.” He looked down at her lovely face, her hair a red halo on the light carpet. She was flushed, and the extra color had made her bruising more pronounced. He moved his hand there and stroked her gently.

“Are you hurting?”

She smiled. “No. I just want to go down on you.”

He still had trouble with that. At least with relaxing into it. At least at first. He loved the feel of his cock in her mouth and hands—how could he not!—but he couldn’t completely shake the sense that it dishonored her to give him head. All those f*cking lonely blow jobs in the dorm hallway over the past few years, some nearly anonymous chick on her knees at his feet, had etched a sad association into his head.

But Shannon wanted it, and he liked the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him. So he flipped them over and let her have her way.

She made the most of it, kissing and licking along his jaw, down his neck, over his shoulder and chest.

She seemed to stop at every scar and pay it its own attention. He could feel the satin of her skin and the silk of her underwear gliding against him as she moved down, pressing always against his cock. He groaned, wanting to be inside her.

“Shannon.” He put his hands around her arms and tried to pull her up, but she looked up at him and shook her head.

“Nope. I want this. And you are rock hard, so I think you’ll be okay.”

“I want to come inside you.”

“Then you will.”

He gave up and released her arms, closing his eyes. She wrapped her hands around him, and then her hot, wet mouth was on him, sucking and licking. She used her hands and her mouth to touch, squeeze, suck every inch of him until he was panting and groaning. He wanted to be inside her.

Then he felt—good God. He lifted his head and looked down at her. She had him between her tits, still wrapped up in that pretty silk, and she was moving up and down around him, his cock sliding in the sumptuous fullness of her cleavage. Then she bent down and sucked the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Jesus Christ, hon. What—oh, f*ck.” He groaned and thrust, his empty hands clenched into fists.

She took her mouth away and grinned. “Oh, good. You’re watching. You like this?”

He nodded, still thrusting, the feel of her tits surrounding him so goddamn intense he couldn’t make words.

Then she released him, and he had a moment where his brain skidded around in his head. But she was coming up, straddling him, moving her panties to the side. She hovered over him, looking down with a tiny, sassy smile. He grabbed her thighs and flexed his hips up toward her hot core.

When she came down onto him, she moaned and arched backward, grabbing her own tits and tweaking her nipples. Fuck, that was so goddamn hot. But she otherwise didn’t move for several very long seconds, until Show couldn’t wait any longer. He grabbed her hips and held her down hard on him, then sat up and turned them around, putting her back down on the floor underneath him.

“Time’s up, hon.” In this position, he had more control—of her and of himself—and he held her down and thrust into her, pushing deeper and deeper until her eyes were wild. She started to lift her legs to wrap around him, but instead he reached down and hooked one over his arm, pulling her to the side a bit. Then he began thrusting in earnest, feeling her muscles squeezing and flexing around his cock, the silk of her underwear caressing his balls every time he hit home.

“Oh, God. Oh, God! Show, don’t stop. Please don’t stop. God, oh, God!” She had fistfuls of his hair, pulling his head to hers. He didn’t resist, and their mouths crashed together, stifling her cries.

He thrust again and again, his need heavy in his gut, holding his release back by will alone, until he felt the change in her, the way her muscles eased all at once and then tensed completely just as fast, and her nails raked hard up his back, leaving stinging tracers like electric charges. She tore her mouth from his and arched sharply up against him, her mouth open wide in a silent scream.