“You fantasized about me?”
“Oh, yeah.”
She looked back at her chair.
He laughed. “It’s not the chair, Samantha. It’s you.”
Samantha’s heart skipped a beat. She walked over to him, slid her hands up the front of his parka. “What did we do in my chair?”
He wrapped an arm around her, palm in the middle of her back, a lop-sided grin on his face. “You straddled me and rode me until you came.”
Heat flared between her thighs. “Well, the chair is here—and so are we.”
He touched his forehead to hers. “I didn’t bring a condom.”
She was about to say something about how sad that was when she remembered. “Well, I have a similar chair in my room.”
His lop-sided grin became a sexy smile. “Is that so?”
15
Thor sat in Samantha’s chair, her back to him, her thighs straddling his, their gazes fixed on her mirror—and the erotic sight of his cock sliding in and out of her. “See how beautiful you are?”
She stared at their reflection as he withdrew then thrust into her again, burying himself completely. “Oh! That’s so …hot.”
“Fuck, yeah, it is.” It turned him on every bit as much as it did her, her body gripping him tightly, the slick friction muted by the condom—but still incredible.
He built up the rhythm stroke by stroke until he was pounding into her from below, one hand caressing her breast, the other reaching around to stroke her clit.
“Oh,Thooooor…” She moaned out his name, the nails of one hand digging into his forearm, the other reaching back behind his neck, her gaze still on the mirror. “Yes.”
He willed himself to relax, to savor the sensation of being inside her, lust for her pounding in his chest, his nuts drawing tight. He needed to hold out, to last, to make this good for her, for Samantha.
He whispered her name, punctuating his words with kisses, his lips finding the curve of her shoulder, the sensitive skin beneath her ear, her earlobe. “Åhhh,Samantha. You’re… too… much.”
He could tell she was close, her breasts flushed and swollen, her breathing ragged, every muscle in her body tense.
Her eyes drifted shut, her head falling back against his shoulder, her body arching to press her breast deeper into his hand.
He couldn’t help but groan, aroused to the breaking point by her gesture of sensual surrender, her head rolling back and forth on his shoulder now. Then her breath caught, her eyes went wide—and she shattered, biting her lip to keep from crying out.
His hips a piston now, he drove her climax home, falling over that bright edge with her, orgasm burning through him, white-hot and incandescent.
She went limp against him, laughed. “You’resogood.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist, kissed the top of her head, tenderness filling his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to let go of her, wanting her even though his sexual hunger had just been satiated. What the hell was that about?
But they couldn’t stay like this.
“I need to take off the condom while I’m still hard.”
“Right.”
While she crawled off him and into bed, he removed the condom, tossed it into her trash, and wiped himself with a tissue.
She reached for him, and he got into bed beside her, holding her close so the two of them could fit. For a time, they stayed like that, her cheek against his chest.
“These beds are too small,” she said in a sleepy voice.