“It’s not my fault,” I reply breathlessly. “You’re sexy.”
He chuckles and bites my ass cheek, then the other to match, and nibbles up my spine to my neck and speaks into my ear again.
“Your body was made to make a man weep with joy. I want to fuck you, and spank you, and pamper you, all at the same time.”
Jesus, he can’t say shit like that to me.
“You like that?”
I shrug, unable to move much from this angle, but God, I can’t talk either. I’m a big, tight ball of lust.
“I think you do,” he whispers and bites the lobe again before kissing his way back down. “I think you like it when I talk dirty to you.”
I moan in agreement and tip my ass up, hoping for more attention, and he readily obliges, rubbing two fingers through my folds.
“Your lips are swollen,” he says as he kisses down my back. “And your clit is coming out to play.”
His thumb draws circles around the center of my universe, making me cry out.
“Oh my God!”
“That’s right, baby.” He repeats the motion, and slowly sticks two fingers inside me. “God, you’re tight.”
I whimper, my hips moving in circles. Damn, if only he’d touch me a little harder, a little faster—
And suddenly I’m on my back again and Rhys is kneeling between my legs.
Finally!
But he doesn’t push inside me. He just smiles and kisses back down my torso, over my belly, to my core, and pulls my clit between his lips, tugging just hard enough to send me over the edge.
“Fuck!” I jackknife off the bed, but Rhys pins me down with his hand firmly between my breasts as he has his way with me.
And it’s amazing. Like, the kind of shit you write home about.
But it’s not exactly what I want.
“Rhys.”
He shakes his head, and that makes my eyes cross.
“Rhys, I’m serious.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“I want you inside me!”
He grins against my core. “That’s not stop or no,” he replies and drags that tongue through my lips and inside me, then back up to my clit.
“You’re trying to kill me.”
He chuckles. “You’re not ready.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t think I could be any more ready.” I grip the covers at my hips and hold my breath as he kisses the inside of my thighs, my pubis, and finally kisses up my body.
“Do you want me?” he whispers against my lips. The sound of a foil packet tearing open is the only sound as he hovers over me. I can smell and taste myself, and rather than answer, I pull his mouth down to mine, kissing him deeply, loving that our scents are mingling around me, and I reach between us, grip him firmly in my fist, and guide him to my entrance.
“I need the words,” he growls.
“I don’t just want you, Rhys, I need you.”
He pauses, his eyes on mine, his hands framing my face, breathing hard. And finally, finally, he pushes lightly, just burying the tip in my wetness.
“Fuck,” he whispers. “God, Gabby.”
He watches my face as he slides in farther, until he’s seated balls-deep, and then he stops again.
“Don’t move,” he says, kissing me softly.
“Are you okay?” My fingernails are dragging lazily down his sides to his ass, then up again.
“So much more than okay,” he replies and kisses me more firmly as he pulls out, then pushes in again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” I reply truthfully. “God, it feels so good.”
“So good,” he repeats and moves again. “I have to move, baby.”
“Good, ‘cause you’re killing me.”
He chuckles, then sighs as he pushes up on his hands and begins to move even faster, a little harder, watching my face all the while to make sure that I’m okay.
And boy, am I okay.
I clench around him, loving the way the ridge of his head drags against my walls, shooting little electrical sparks down my spine. I have to reach above me and push on the headboard, tipping my hips up to meet him, as our tempo grows. He’s sweating, breathing so damn hard, and I’m going to lose it.
“Rhys.”
“Yes, baby, go over.”
I rest my feet on his calves and clench down as his pubis hits my clit, and I go blind with ecstasy, my body gripping him with everything I have.
“Fuck,” he whispers and follows me, coming hard, his whole body shuddering. As the shivers slow, he leans his forehead against the headboard, working to catch his breath, and I’ve never seen anything like him in my life.
Crap, I’m in love.
Chapter Eight
~Gabby~
I can hear him moving about the room quietly. He thinks he’s letting me sleep in, I’m sure, and while it’s very sweet of him to try, a woman doesn’t wake up at five in the morning six days a week and sleep past seven on her day off.
But I lie here and listen to him, imagining him naked, or maybe wrapped in a towel from the shower I heard him take a little while ago. He moves back into the bathroom and closes the door, and I can hear him murmuring into the phone.
I stretch and roll over to my other side, smiling in pure contentment at the pull of sore muscles from a long night of lovemaking. I mean, seriously, six times?
The man is a machine.
Did last night seriously happen? Because…wow. He did things to me that I thought were only urban myths. Things women talk about, but haven’t ever actually done.
Like the whole pushing my legs up around my ears, hands pressed to the back of my thighs and making me see stars.