Sinful Longing (Sinful Nights, #3)(41)

Closer. She felt closer to him than she ever had before as he held her tight, their fingers laced together, while he drank her in. Her muscles tightened. The first wave of pleasure crashed over her, and it was happening.

“I want to come all over you, Colin,” she said, as the sensations rolled through her, overwhelming her, flooding her brain with nothing but beautiful bliss.

“Oh God,” she cried out, losing control, letting go, and giving in to everything she felt with him. “I’m going to come on your face. Just like you want.” He gripped her hands so damn tight as he ravaged her. “Just like I’ve pictured. Oh f*ck. Oh God. It’s so f*cking good.”

Then she screamed, and nothing else existed in the whole damn world but this perfect moment of pleasure, this unparalleled ecstasy with this man who was so unbelievably good to her in every way.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Rock. Hard.

His dick was steel. His stubble was coated in her gorgeous, glorious, delicious wetness. He could still taste her on his tongue. Like sin and honey. Like longing and lust. Like the woman he had to have completely.

She sighed happily as her eyes fluttered open, so dreamy and sexy.

“Hi,” she whispered as he rose up. “That was…”

“You are…”

Neither one of them could seem to finish their sentences. She scooted back into the pillows then lifted her hand, tracking the lotus design on his chest. She traveled lower, over his abs to his waist. She pushed down his briefs. He was sitting on his knees, still between her legs. No better place to be.

She ran her tongue across her lips as she freed his cock, then took it in her hand and stroked him. Shuddering, he felt a bolt of desire tear through him as she rubbed her hand slowly up and down his dick. He loved how she touched him. Absolutely f*cking loved everything about it, from the way she ran her fingers over him to how her breath came fast and heavy as she gripped him.

Mostly though, it was her eyes. It was the way she gazed at him. She looked at him with so much want, so much desire, and so much more. Like she wanted him in all the same ways he wanted her.

His breathing turned erratic the more she touched him, the more she rubbed her hands all over him. The craving inside him multiplied; it rose exponentially as she stopped at the head of his dick, spreading a bead of liquid over him. He groaned.

She whispered his name.

“Yes?” he answered, as he pushed off his briefs. His voice was soft, but it echoed, the only sound in his quiet home. It vaguely occurred to him that he hadn’t stopped to turn on music or anything. He hadn’t needed it though. The noises she made were all he wanted in his ears.

“I want to know how it feels without any barriers,” she said, wrapping both hands around him now, leading him closer to the promised land.

The prospect of flesh against flesh, skin on skin, electrified him. But a kernel of worry set up camp, too, and he remained stock still as he asked, “Are you sure? I mean, should we?”

“I’m on the pill.”

“But…”

“I wasn’t when I was younger. The condom broke. The pill has been fantastic. But we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

“No, I want to. I just want to make sure it makes sense.”

She nodded. “It does. It works.”

He positioned his cock between her legs and rubbed the head against her wetness. Roping her arms around his neck, she drew him closer. She spread her legs, wrapping them around his hips as he sank into her. He trembled from the absolutely exquisite feel of her hot * gripping his dick. “You’re so f*cking wet,” he said as he hitched her leg up higher, giving himself a better angle.

“I always am with you,” she said, then raised her face to his and claimed his lips. She kissed him, and he f*cked her, and soon that was all he knew. The deep and primal drive to fill her. The heat flooding his body. Her fingernails running the length of his spine. And her mouth, her decadent, sinful lips fused to his, kissing him greedily as he took her.

Hard.

Deep.

Rough.

She let go of his mouth and yanked him closer, kissing his neck, his face, moving her lips to his ear. “I love the way you f*ck me,” she whispered, her voice fevered.

So fiery. She was so damn fiery and passionate. It drove him wild. “Fucking you is amazing. Do you have any idea why it’s so good?” he said in a heated voice as he stroked.

“Tell me.”

“Because it’s more than f*cking.” The words tumbled from his lips. He hadn’t planned to tell her now, but he couldn’t hold back. He couldn’t pretend. She was more than this. She was so much more than the physical. He pulled back to look at her. Maybe he’d scared her. Maybe she’d freeze up again. But her lips were parted, her eyes were wide open, and she gazed back at him, not letting go.

“I know it is,” she whispered, the words like poetry to his ears. Sweet, gorgeous music.

“It’s more than what it used to be.”

“So much more,” she murmured as she moved with him. They were finishing each other’s sentences, filling in what the other was saying. They both felt it. There was no other way.

Their bodies coiled together. She was slick and hot, and so was he, and he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t have enough of her, couldn’t imagine this stopping at just sex. No, this was way more than f*cking. It was f*cking and falling at the same damn time, and nothing—no drug, no drink, no high-flying parachute dive—had ever felt as good as coming together with the woman he desired madly.