Page 22 of Hot Buttered Rum

“Me too.”

He tossed the scarf onto the dresser next to the whipped cream. “For later. Right now I just need you naked in my arms.” He swept me up and we kissed as he carried me to the bed.

Turner lowered me onto the mattress and knelt between my legs. He pulled the panties off and tossed them to the floor. I reached for the button on his fly as he reached back and pulled off his shirt. He pulled a condom from his pocket and held it up with a smile.

I laughed. “I believe we call that cocky confidence.”

“I call it being prepared.” He shoved his pants down just low enough to set free his rock hard cock and rolled on the condom. Before I could take another breath he had me in his powerful grasp.

“Oh, Turner,” I sighed as he pushed inside of me. I was still tender from the afternoon’s tryst, yet I wanted him just as badly. Even more.

He pushed his hand beneath my ass and lifted me higher to meet his thrust. His body curled long and low, pushing his cock deeper inside of me, reaching my most intimate parts. The size of his cock made my pussy ache, but I wanted more. I reached up and grabbed the carved edge of the headboard and held it tightly as I lifted my bottom higher.

“Fuck yeah,” he groaned as the new position let him go deeper.

His forearms tightened as he braced his fists against the bed and stared down between us to watch his cock enter me over and over again. “Come for me, baby. I need you to come. You’re so fucking hot, I can’t keep it together long.”

I held the bed but reached up with one hand and pressed it against his face. “No, this time is for you. I want to watch you come. This is just for you.”

He turned his face beneath my hand and kissed my wrist. The clear blue heat in his eyes warmed me to my very core.

Turner’s eyes closed, and he rocked hard and fast against me. The massive antique bed creaked with each movement.

“You are sweet as fucking honey,” he growled as he slammed into me once more. His shoulders, arms and body stiffened and a low groan rolled up from his chest as he came.

I held my hand up to his face and the beard stubble scraped my hand as he pressed it harder against my palm. He pulled out slowly and collapsed down next to me on the mattress.

“I owe you,” he said on a release of breath.

“Yes, you do.”

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