Page 29 of Skin Deep

“Good.” Taking his cock in hand, he rubbed the tip through her wetness, then worked it up and down, through the crevice that divided her buttocks. Bending his knees slightly, he placed the head at her opening, working the tip into her swollen tissues. She squeezed around him, and he groaned.

He wanted to surge forward, to seat himself inside her, but forced himself to slow down and savor the moment. Dipping his head, he inhaled the spicy scent of her shampoo, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She sighed, a soft little sound of contentment that reached right through his rib cage and grabbed his heart in a tight fist. He needed to get closer to her; he wasn’t sure he could get close enough.

Pressing a palm to the window to brace himself, he began to move, filling her at a slow but steady pace. She gasped once he was sheathed inside her to the root, her greedy center clenching around him. Pleasure tightened in his core, and he pressed his forehead to the chilled glass, trying to get himself under control. He wanted this to last.

Amy had other ideas. Pressing her own hands to the glass, she arched back against him. Bending at the waist to allow him to slide in just a little bit farther, she gave a delicious little wiggle of her hips.

“In a hurry?” Fred’s voice was amused. “Got a hot date I don’t know about?”

“I’m so sorry,” she replied, her voice thick with arousal and dripping with saccharine sweetness, “but I thought you said you wanted to give me what I wanted. And what I want is to get fucked.”

Heat shot through him like he’d touched a live wire, a single sizzle from head to foot, and he growled. Clasping her by the hips, he dug the tips of his fingers into her soft flesh. “Then I’d suggest you hold on.”

Using her as his anchor, he began to move. Slow, punishing thrusts at first, as deep inside her as he could go. They both made incoherent sounds every time his hips met the curves of her behind; both exhaled when he pulled back. The deep thrusts quickly gave way to shorter ones, harder ones. His pace quickened until he could hear their flesh slapping together, a sound that shouldn’t have been erotic and yet was the dirtiest thing he’d ever heard.

“Fuck, yes.” Her hands, damp with sweat, slipped on the glass. He wrapped his arms around her waist to anchor her, continuing to move inside her as his entire world narrowed to the place where her soft pink flesh squeezed around the steel rod of his erection. “Please, Fred. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Come for me.” Dipping his head, he nipped at the delicate curve where her shoulder became her neck. She growled, a purely animal sound, so he did it again, this time giving her a sharp bite since he already knew she liked a bit of pain with her pleasure. Her pussy tightened around him, and her body stiffened, hot and tight beneath him. “Now. Come now.”

He watched her shudder, felt the vibrations through his flesh, and then she screamed, the cry bouncing off the smooth glass. He moved through it all, her pleasure spurring on his own. His arousal starting to barrel through his body like a runaway train, and finally he could hold back no more. One thrust, two and three and four, and he poured himself inside her, pleasure causing stars to dance behind his eyes.

They were both out of breath, panting hard enough to create mist on the glass. Heat had sealed them together, and as they both laughingly tried to catch their breath, Fred realized that he could quite happily stay like this, right here with this woman, for the rest of his life.

The realization should have been terrifying. It should have had him easing out of her body and running for the door, never mind the fact that this was his apartment. Instead, he found that it felt...well, it felt right.

He knew he had to pull out, but he resented it, even as the slow drag through her tissues sparked pleasure yet again. Carefully, he eased them to the ground, sitting with his legs apart, and Amy between them.

“Think anybody saw us?” Amy murmured, nestling back against him, her back to his front. They were looking out the window they’d just been pressed against, watching the bright lights of Boston at nighttime, twinkling thirty floors beneath him. “Whatever would your neighbors think?”

“They’d be jealous,” he replied with certainty. “They’d look at this incredibly hot woman, writhing on my dick, and wonder what I’d done to get so fucking lucky.”

She laughed, and he liked the husky sound. They were silent for a moment, and Fred held his breath. This was the point at which she usually withdrew, or ran, or otherwise broke their connection.

When she twisted around to give him a soft kiss, he found that he could exhale again. She wasn’t running. He could relax.

He wouldn’t, though. Not until he’d figured out a way to make her see how right this was, this thing between them. Not until he figured out a way to make her stay.

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE NEXT DAY, Amy was sore. Deliciously so, her every movement a reminder of the ways Fred had used her body—the ways they’d used each other.

Several times today, a dirty memory from the night before had flashed before her eyes, as vivid as a summer day. Her on her knees at his feet, his cock heavy on her tongue as he fucked her mouth with bossy thrusts of his hips. Her on hands and knees, face pressed to the plush carpet as he spanked her ass, leaving wicked heat in the wake of his blows. The strange, exciting sensation of cold, slick glass pressed to her breasts, her belly, her cheek as he claimed her from behind.

This morning, the searching tenderness in those green eyes of his when he’d pulled up in front of the house she’d grown up in, where she still lived. He might not have known what a big step that was for her, letting him see the old brown house that was so much shabbier than its newer, fancier neighbors, but she’d wanted to do it—wanted to give him a little piece of herself.

That alone told her how much trouble she was in. It was like she was on board a train that had been set into motion five years ago, one that kept going faster and faster and was bound to crash, to end in a giant, fiery explosion, but she couldn’t get off—didn’t want to get off—because the speed of the ride felt so damn good.

After sending her midmorning client out the door overjoyed with their new ink, she stretched to loosen her tight muscles as she stood behind her front counter, contemplating her lunch choices. She had no plans for that evening and found herself wondering what Fred was up to. Picking up her phone, she thought to send him a text asking just that, but stopped herself.

This—these floaty, good-sex feelings, the emotional buzz—this smacked of a relationship.

Was it a relationship?

If it was...would that be so bad?

The chiming of the bells hanging in her doorway took her attention from her phone. Her stomach clenched with excitement when she spotted the familiar ginger head brushing against the copper of the bells because of his height.

“I was just thinking of texting...” Her voice trailed off when the man stopped just inside the entrance of her shop, looking around. “You’re not Fred.”

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