The Wrong Gentleman(69)

She blinked, lazily fumbling at the hem of my t-shirt. I pulled it off and discarded my shorts before undoing her jeans and pulling them down her legs. I looked up at her from my knees. Jesus, she was beautiful. She rested her hands on my shoulders and stepped out of the denim, and I knew this was where I belonged. With her, ready to give her everything.

She had me on my knees in every possible way.

She slipped off her bra as I peeled off her knickers and pressed a kiss to her stomach.

“I need to shower,” I said, ignoring my throbbing cock.

“I like you like this. I like you every way.”

I ran my hands from her ankles up the back of her shins, thighs, and then over her bottom, reminding myself of how utterly perfect she was. “Sit down and lie back.” I needed to taste her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her thighs to either side of my chest, and lay back, her arms over her head. The sight of her sweet pussy tugged at my cock, and I leaned forward and breathed her in.

My Skylar.

She groaned before I’d even touched her. Just the heat of my breath inches away from her had turned her on—that was a real victory.

I grinned. The physical stuff between us had always been fantastic. I didn’t expect it to have changed.

“I’m warning you,” she said. “As much as I want your tongue on me, I’m going to need your dick.”

I growled and pressed my mouth against her heat, unable to hold back any longer. She was wet and slick, and I licked and sucked as if she were my last meal. I wanted to make up for all those weeks I hadn’t seen her, all those things I’d said to her outside the restaurant. But most of all, I wanted to be buried in her—my fingers, my tongue, my dick. I wanted my body to be as lost to her as my heart was. Within seconds, she was writhing on the bed, begging me to stop, for more, for release. She pulsed underneath me, her clitoris engorged and hard. She was so close. If I were a cruel man, I’d have pulled back, made her wait. But that wasn’t what she needed. She needed to come. She needed me to make her come, and I’d vowed I’d do my best to give her everything she needed.

I slid two fingers deep inside her, and she began to orgasm immediately. Her stomach contracted and her back arched as she cried out. Fuck, she was beautiful like this. She belonged to me. As much as I wanted to get her back to London as soon as possible, I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her leave this room any time in the next year. I needed to own her like this. Needed to show her that she’d been mine since the moment I’d seen her in the bar and would be mine for the rest of time.

I grabbed my wallet and pulled out a condom, covering my cock as quickly as possible. I had to get inside her. Make her come again. That was my mission now. I wanted to make sure she understood that we’d never be apart again.

I nudged her legs apart and coated the crown of my cock with her wetness as she lay, dazed, in front of me.

“You ready?” I asked. “I’m going to make you come over and over and over.”

She sighed, and I took that as a yes as I pushed into her as far as I could go.

She cried out and her nails dug into my arms.

Shit. The pressure was almost too much, and I had to clench my jaw and shut my eyes to hold myself back. How had I thought I could ever let this woman walk away from me? I’d never known anything like her. Never felt someone settle in my core like she had. Never wanted to care for someone, to protect someone, as fiercely as I wanted to shelter Skylar from the entire world.

I exhaled, opened my eyes, and caught her watching me. She traced a bead of sweat from my forehead down my temple. I began to rock in and out of her as we stared at each other. Her blonde hair fanned out behind her, and her limbs were loose and warm. “You’re perfect,” I whispered.

She shook her head. “No one is.”

“Then you’re perfect for me,” I replied.

I folded over her, my chest against hers, our skin slick and sticky, and our mouths met. I couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t possibly show her how special she was. I’d make it my mission to make sure I tried every day of my life.

She wrapped her legs around my waist, and I rolled to my back, ready to watch her above me. She pushed up on my chest and took my cock deep into her, as I pressed my thumbs below her hip bones. “Promise me you won’t stop fucking me when we get to London,” she said as she lowered herself onto my dick.

I could barely get my words out. “I promise. I’ll never stop.” As if she’d have to convince me.

She tipped her head back, giving me a view of her throat, then down to her perfect, ripe breasts, her dusky pink nipples, straining and desperate under my glare. How could she think I’d be able to stop? I’d never stop wanting her. But it was more than that. She’d created a need in me that I’d never experienced before. It was more than physical. I needed the way her caring for people was second nature, her relentless practicality, her love of Celine Dion. Her hard armor and her soft center—I wanted it all.

Her breathing became more and more strained as she tightened her thighs and tilted her pelvis back. I slid my palm up her stomach, relishing the feel of her hot, smooth skin.

Jesus. I’d do anything for this woman. Couldn’t she see that? I gripped her waist and tipped her onto her back. “But I can’t cope with the teasing. Not if you want me to last.”

“I wasn’t teasing,” she said, her eyes wide and honest. “I just love the way you feel inside me. The way I’m so full of you.”