Page 151 of Simon Says

She moaned at the shock of pleasure. It seemed every time they were together, the sexual tension was worse, sharper, and more frenzied.

To get rid of her clothes, Dakota tried to stand, but Simon kept a tight hold on her.

“No,” he said, and dropped back on the bed so that she sprawled over him. With both hands now in her bottoms, he palmed her backside, squeezed and caressed, then shoved the flannel pants down. Dakota struggled to kick them the rest of the way off while still touching and kissing Simon. Grabbing her shirt, Simon jerked it up and off over her head, then tossed it across the room. Completely naked, Dakota went to her side to help him undress.

He brushed her hands away from his shirt and urgently opened his jeans. Pushing them down only far enough to free his erection, he pulled her back atop him.

“Ride me, Dakota.” As he said it, he guided her thigh over his hips, helping her to straddle him. “Now. Right now.”

His hands were on her thighs, stroking, inciting her. Heat rose between them, scented by Simon’s unique smell. He dipped one hand between her legs, sought through her pubic hair, and then, with a groan, pushed a finger into her.

Dakota felt the bold intrusion with shock and excitement.

“You’re ready,” he murmured low as he pressed his finger deep, retreated, thrust in again. “More than ready.” Taking his hand away, he ordered again, “Ride me.”

With one hand he held himself at the ready and with the other he guided her hips down. Breathing hard and fast, Dakota stared at him as he entered her.

His eyes half closed, his jaw locked, and a feral sound came from him. His hand on her hip clenched as he encouraged her to sink lower, down, down, until her knees completely bent and she sat flush on him. The position drove him deep, so deep that it took away her breath.

For long moments they stayed like that, joined but unmoving, each anticipating the flood of sensations to come. Watching her, his expression both intent and somehow distant, Simon held her firm and lifted up the smallest bit. Dakota sucked in air—and released it on a moan.

“If we could stay like this…,” Simon whispered. His gaze went from her face to her breasts, then down to her belly. “But we can’t.”

Lost in need, Dakota didn’t understand. “Simon?”

Gently, he caressed her hips, up to her waist, her ribs, and over her breasts. Again, more softly this time, he ordered, “Ride me.”

Saying nothing, Dakota gathered her wits and looked at him. The dark, soft cotton shirt had ridden up above his abdomen, and Dakota ran one hand over the solid ridge of muscles there, through the trail of dark silky hair that descended from his chest, bisected his body down to his navel, then lower still. The muscles tightened even more, and inside herself, she felt his erection flex.

He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, but she didn’t think it’d matter what he looked like. It was just something about Simon, some unnameable nuance that affected her in a mind-numbing way.

For the first time since breaking her mother’s heart, she needed to please someone else. Having sex with Simon was indescribable, but she wanted more. She wanted his respect and affection, and admiration.

She wanted his love.

Bracing her hands on his chest, she used her knees to slowly lever up—then dropped hard.

They both groaned.

She did it again, and again, each time metering the pace, making it last, going as slow as she could until Simon began playing with her nipples, working her, stealing her control.

“Faster,” he whispered.

Dakota worked over him until her thighs began to burn, and still he didn’t move, didn’t help her in any way except to roll her nipples, tug at them. She wanted to scream in frustration. She needed to come.

“Simon.”

The second she cried his name he took over, driving up into her while holding her hips tight so that she felt the full impact of each deep thrust. It was enough. It was almost too much.

As an orgasm sizzled through her, Dakota cried out and at the same time, she heard Simon groan hard in his own release. When the sparks of pleasure gradually faded to oblivion, leaving them both spent and limp, Simon pulled her down to him, holding her tight, his face in her throat.

A few minutes later, two things occurred to Dakota at once. Simon hadn’t worn a rubber. And she didn’t care.

She pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his slowing heartbeat. Emotional words of commitment burned in her throat, but Dakota held them back. She wouldn’t pressure him with her feelings. She wouldn’t burden him this close to his comeback fight.

“You are one phenomenal man, Simon Evans. Thank you.”

Not only did he not reply, but his hands fell away to his sides, leaving Dakota with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

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