Page 19 of Leaving Lando

“I had a sandwich.”

“When, Bree?”

“Lunchtime,” I retort. “When do you think?”

“You might not want to get snippy with me when your bare ass is within easy reach of my hand.”

My clit swells. “Whatever.”

“Your lunchtime is what? About nine o’clock in the morning?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

He mutters under his breath and reverses course, going back to the kitchen. The house is cool, and now that the heat of sex has worn off, I’m getting chilled. When he opens the refrigerator, a draft of cold air hits my ass and I shiver.

“Sorry, Red.”

“If you’re going to cook, you could put me down.”

“I’m getting you a snack. It’ll tide you over until I can cook something decent.”

The man has a plan, and will not be deterred. Bossy.

The refrigerator shuts and he carries me back into the living room, where he pauses for a moment. A soft click tells me he’s turned up the thermostat. We go into his bedroom then, and into the master bath, where he sets me down and hands me his robe. “Put that on.”

Since I’m cold, I don’t argue for once. Instead of the shower, he turns on the taps to the oversized sunken tub. I smile in approval.

The snack turns out to be cheese and champagne. I have no complaints about that either, or about finding myself a few minutes later in a steaming bubble bath with him. “Mmm.” I turn sideways on his lap and snuggle up against his chest. “I like the way you think, Detective.”

“I’m glad you approve.” His mouth slants over mine. Like the kiss this morning, it’s endless, patient, seductive. I’m getting far more drunk on him than the champagne.

My hand finds his cock, stroking him as we kiss. When my soft moans are coming with every breath, he shifts me into reverse cowgirl position and slowly fills me, then leans me back against his chest.

He can touch me everywhere now, and he does, playing with my breasts, pinching my nipples, nuzzling my neck, teasing my clit, while his hips move just enough to stroke in and out of me. Before long, I’m twisting impatiently, tightening around him, my body demanding more.

“You heat up fast, Red.”

“With you, how could I do anything else?”

I feel his smile against the skin of my shoulder, and then he turns my head and captures my mouth in another deep, drugging kiss. One of his hands tweaks my nipples in turn, while the other goes to work on my clit.

When the climax shudders through me, he doesn’t stop. He brings me again, and again, and even though I’m riding him, he’s the one in control. Only when I’m thoroughly sated, limp in his arms, does he turn us so we’re on our knees and I’m braced against the edge of the tub.

He starts off slow, rocking against me. Water sloshes around us, waves cresting against the sides of the tub. Sensation swirls through my veins, like thick golden honey, sending me spiraling up to a distant peak.

Eventually he goes a little faster, but still keeps his pace deliberate, fucking me with deep strokes that reverberate all the way to my womb. Maybe it’s the warmth, and the water, but this feels so much more intimate than in the kitchen. It’s like I’m turning inside out, parts of me I didn’t even know existed flowering, laid bare for him.

“Lando,” I moan, putting everything inside me, all the things I can’t say, into his name. And he responds. His mouth brushes my skin, and then he sets his teeth on the sensitive point where my shoulder meets my neck.

He doesn’t need words to tell me I’m being marked. Claimed.

Branded.

He speeds up until he’s fucking me hard and fast, one hand working my clit while he pummels me. I’m powerless to resist the pleasure swamping me, filling me, overwhelming me. My body peaks, then shatters, over and over.

Then he wraps his arms around my torso, pulls me upright, and leans back at an angle, so I’m lying on top of him and his powerful thighs are holding us both up out of the water. His pace slows again, his fingers still toying with my clit, keeping my system revving.

“Lando …” This time it’s a plea. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, but he seems to understand.

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