“God, this hair. I dream about this hair. Sliding against my pillow. Falling over your skin.” He palmed my breast with his other hand, his touch urgent. “Looks like fire, feels like silk.”
My lips were at his neck, his collarbone, his jaw — kissing everywhere I could reach. My hands were on a quest of their own, skating down the ridges of his abdomen, feeling the coarse brush of hair that led in a path straight downward. Graham hissed out a gust of air as my hand closed around his cock, circling the thick shaft with my fingers. He was so hard it made my mouth water.
I tried to stroke him, but he didn’t let me get more than a few touches in before his hand left my hair and planted itself on my chest. He pushed me back, flattening my body against the duvet. His fingers hooked in my thong and again, with another blink-and-you-miss-itwhoosh, he’d whipped it down my legs and tossed it away. His strong hands closed over my ankles, jerking my thighs apart, exposing the most intimate part of me.
For a moment I was tempted to shy away, but when I saw the raw look on his face, the ragged hunger that smoldered in the depths of his eyes… I couldn’t even breathe, let alone hide from his line of sight. And I found, the longer he looked at me, the less I wanted to. Under his gaze, I felt just as gorgeous as he told me I was.
“Are you going to stare at me all day, or are you going to fuck me?” I whispered.
With a rattle of desire deep in his chest, he lunged forward, one forearm planting in the mattress beside my head to take the brunt of his weight, the other hand sliding between my legs. His finger hit its target the same moment his mouth claimed mine, sending a blinding pulse of pure lust through me. Hands on his ass, I urged him closer, craving maximum skin contact. He resisted, keeping most of his weight off me, and refused to let me pleasure him back even as he worked me with his mouth and with his fingers. His cock was hard as steel against my thigh, a heavy weight that stole all my focus.
I needed him.
Now.
“Graham,” I pleaded, writhing beneath him.
“What do you want, Gwen?”
I didn’t hesitate. “You.”
His finger circled again, a delicious roll that made my bones quake down to the marrow. “How much?”
“So much it hurts.”
The tension slowly ramped up, need burning inside me until he’d stoked the flames to such an inferno, I thought I was going to come just from his fingers. As if he sensed how near I was, he pulled back right before I reached the point of combustion.
“Graham,” I cried at the loss, jerking my hips as desire coursed through me. I wanted his fingers back, his mouth back. “No! Don’t stop.”
“Patience, baby.” He chuckled —pure evil!— and I felt him move between my hips, felt the head of his thick, throbbing shaft poised at my entrance. “We’re coming together this time.”
My eyes, which had fallen mostly closed, opened fully. I looked up into his, the green so molten it was hard to believe he’d ever looked at me with anything resembling coldness. Whatever expression he saw on my face made his own contort into something so hot, so untempered, my desire ratcheted up yet another notch.
The head of his shaft nosed inside me, so big he stretched my anatomy to its limits. I whimpered in a heady combo of pleasure-pain that was so good, it defied all description.
“Graham,” I begged as he inched inside with excruciating slowness, my fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his back. “Please.”
“Too fast and I might hurt you, baby.”
“I don’t care if you hurt me, just fuck me!”
I saw a flash of his dark grin. And then, not needing to be told twice, he slammed inside, filling me to the hilt, so deep it was a shock to the senses. The sensation of fullness was nearly more than I could take, but in the best sort of way imaginable. I bowed up off the bed, feeling practically split in two, but Graham’s hand had a steady lock on my hip. He began to pound into me, groaning as he found a rhythm. I couldn’t swallow down my own sounds of ecstasy as my eager body pushed up to meet him, thrust for thrust, until he was driving into me with such bruising ferocity neither of us could properly draw breath.
Pure pleasure had me in its grasp. I felt it in the building tempo deep within my core, in the telltale tightening of my limbs as they wound around his body. I couldn’t hold back. It was coming.
I was coming.
“Baby, I’m—” I gasped against his mouth. “I’m—”
“Not yet,” he growled back, hips pinioning me harder, faster. “Together.”
The waves of passion were rising higher and higher, swamping me, dragging me under a bit deeper with every passing second. I knew Graham was close too. I could feel his ragged breaths on my lips, could see the thunderous rate of his pulse in the vein that corded up his neck.
“Fuck, Gwen,” he groaned, grinding his hips harder against me. “Fuck, you feel unbelievable.”
“Graham—”
His mouth hit mine, stealing the rest of my words, stealing my breath, stealing my sense of the rest of the world. All that was left was him, moving inside me, driving me to a height I’d never felt before. And when I hit that precipice, when my muscles clenched and my legs wrapped tighter around his back, holding him as close as physically possible, when the final shred of control slipped through my fingers and burst into flames… I combusted into pure, undiluted desire. And he was right there with me, spark for spark, flame for flame, heartbeat for heartbeat, coming in sync, just as he’d demanded.