Page 64 of Savage Beauty

His Adam’s apple flexes. He rises, resting on one forearm as he nudges my chin upward, forcing me to look into those oxygen-hogging blue depths.

“Yeah?” he asks breathlessly, like it’s hard for him to breathe too.

“Yes. Please.”

And then his tongue plunges into my mouth as he pushes inside, stretching me. Filling me. This. It’s exactly what I wanted.

My fingernails alternate between scraping along his sides to his scalp. The force of his hips moves us. With each thrust, the lightweight sofa scuffs the floor.

“God, you feel so good.” His mouth is by my ear, his breath hot and heavy.

The weight of his body is intoxicating. It’s both sheltering and a complete and total frocking turn-on. The absolute best part is how his body rubs against me, creating divine sensations.

“Christ, I don’t want to ever wear a condom again.”

My thighs clutch his hips as my muscles contract. My toes curl.

“Don’t stop,” I gasp. “Right there. Keep on. Right there. Harder. Harder.”

The blood vessels in his neck expand. His skin flushes. I grip him, nails digging into his skin. On the verge. So close.

An animalistic sound escapes from him. And I feel him pulsing deep within me. And all of that…all of him…pushes me over.

My eyelids close as an orgasm spasms through me.

His thrusts become erratic. Sloppy kisses rain down along my cheek and neck, and then one big, heavy man collapses on top of me. My legs and arms wrap around him, and I giggle into his neck.

Perspiration dampens his skin and the hair along his brow. He lifts his face inches from mine, and my thumb brushes over his eyebrow.

“Something funny?”

He’s still inside me, and I’m clinging to him. And yeah, he’s talking to me. It’s weird. Super weird. But I also kind of love it.

“Nothing,” I answer. “I kind of love this.” The admission makes me feel like I’m exposing myself, which is an odd emotion since I can’t really be more exposed than I am without clothes on, and he’s seen me naked.

“Kind of?” He thrusts up playfully.

“My shorts are still on.”

“Hmm.” The rumble vibrates from my throat to my chest. “So are mine.”

He pulls out and readjusts us so his back is to the back of the sofa and I’m lying below him. He adjusts both of our shorts, in case someone walks by on the beach. Of course, I’m not wearing a top.

My arm covers my breasts, and he moves it, shaking his head in reprimand as he nips my finger.

“Don’t cover those.”

“They’re not really much to look at.”

“They are to me. And they’re mine.”

It’s a ridiculous statement. Logically, I know this. My body is not his. But those words deliver a thrill. A warm, gooey, illogical, all-encompassing thrill.

“And I can’t seem to get enough of them.”

He dips his head and swirls his tongue around a nipple. My back curves, stretching into his touch. He lifts his head and smirks, cocky and sated. The cool air envelops the wet skin, and I roll into him. I let my head rest on his shoulder and breathe into relaxation.

He cups my breast and tweaks the nipple while his other hand caresses my butt. He likes to touch me, and my body responds every time.

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