Wicked Sexy

29

It’s intense. Intimate and personal. Quiet, unlike the beat of my heart, which is deafening.

Her brows pull together. She whispers, “Lírio,” and I’m almost out of my mind with masculine pride.

“Already?”

She nods, biting her lip.

“You’re so goddamn perfect.” My voice is hoarse, the words torn out of me against my will.

“Sweetheart. I want…I—”

Tabby kisses me, swallowing my words and the emotion that’s threatening to drown me.

It’s never been like this for me before, the pleasure of the physical act of s*x overwhelmed by a sheer enormity of feelings. Part of me hopes it will never happen again. I’m a soldier. A mercenary. A Marine with twenty-three confirmed kills. And yet, with her, I’m as weak as a newborn baby.

She makes an inarticulate sound of pleasure, slides her hands up my back, and suddenly I need something more.

Taking her with me, I roll to my back. She settles on top of me, blinking in surprise for a moment before gazing down at me with a smile. “Getting lazy, are we? Or just running out of gas? I know at your advanced age—”

“I want to see your face. I want to see everything. I want you to ride me and come again that way, and I want to watch as you do it.”

I push the jacket off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. She’s fully bared to me now, straddling my body, her long hair brushing her breasts and the flare of her hips warm in my hands. She watches me with those piercing eyes, and I know she sees more than I want her to, because her smile slowly fades.

The sound of the storm outside grows louder. Wind whistles through trees.

She encircles my wrists with her hands, slides them up her body to her breasts. The silver studs in her n*****s wink, catching the light. I cup both her breasts in my hands, softly squeeze them so they spill out, more than a handful, and she sighs.

I would kill a man to hear that exact sigh even one more time.

“Tabitha,” I growl, and she moves.

A stroke and a slide and an easy, graceful flex, her body begins to move over mine. The pleasure is intense. I look at her bitten lips and pink cheeks and the rosy flush on her chest, and fight against my instinct to drive hard up into her, force those wanton cries from her throat. I want her to set her own pace, find her own rhythm, using me as a tuning fork to find the perfect pitch at which her body will sing.

The rhythm she finds is agonizingly slow, minute sliding and grinding movements that have me panting and sweating within seconds. I stroke her rigid n*****s with my thumbs, and she rewards me with a moan of such voluptuous sensuality, I almost come.

When I apply one of my thumbs to her c**t, she moans louder.

A moment later, rocking faster on my c**k, she whispers something in Portuguese.

My smile is savage. Adequate, my ass.

“Feel my c**k deep inside you, sweetheart. Feel how hard I am for you. Now tell me you like it.” Her breasts bounce. Her lips part. She says breathlessly, “You know I do.”

“Say it.”

She groans, her head falling back. I stroke her c**t between two fingers, tugging at the stud. She gasps, her entire body jerking.

I pant, “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me…tell me how it feels.”

A short silence, faster rocking, the tension in her body rising until her back is stiff with it, and then words burst out of her in an almost incoherent rush.

“God you’re so hard and big and good it’s so f*****g good I love it oh God Conner I love it please don’t ever stop!”

Yes. The sensation that sweeps through my body is one big, epic yes.

I roll her to her back, take her face in my hands, kiss her deeply, and thrust into her.

Hard.

Moaning into my mouth, she throws her arms around my neck, wraps her legs around my back, and moves her body in perfect counterpoint to my every thrust.

And I’m gone. Destroyed. The restraint I’d been so carefully maintaining snaps. I become a slave to sensation, to instinct. With some vague part of my brain I hear the sounds I’m making, the animal grunts and groans, but I don’t care. In part because she’s making the same sounds, but from her they’re deeply sexy, viscerally beautiful.

She sounds, tastes and feels like art, she smells like heaven, she f***s like she’s possessed, and she is the single most perfect woman I’ve ever met in my entire existence on this planet.

My final coherent thought is I’m so f****d.

Her p***y clenches around my c**k once, and then again. Her body stiffens. She sucks in a sharp breath through her nose. I slide my hand over her ass, find the tight, puckered bud between her cheeks. When I stroke it, she shudders and makes a sound like a plea.

I gently push. Her body opens to me. I push deeper, sinking my finger to the knuckle, and Tabby convulses around my c**k.

I try to hold on, desperate to experience everything just a moment longer because I know tomorrow it will all be gone, but my body is relentlessly pushing me toward the end that aches inside me, and all I can do is helplessly ride the wave of pleasure as it crests over me, breaks, and sends me crashing into oblivion with the boom of thunder in my ears and her name a strangled cry on my lips.