Page 47 of Back in Black

He didn’t enter her right away; instead he slid back and forth, each time making her wetter, more aroused. With every glide she wondered if he’d thrust into her.

He didn’t.

“Drew . . . ,” she warned.

“In this position,” he said, his voice rough, “I can get to your nipples and your clit.” As he said it, he did it, tugging on a nipple at the same time he found, and lightly pinched, her clitoris.

“Drew.”

“I like how you say my name, Gillian.” In one long, strong move, he thrust into her.

The shock of so much sensation all at once overwhelmed her and she moaned. But now that he was in her, he didn’t start the friction that they’d both need to come. Instead, he just pressed hard into her—and stayed there.

“Now, isn’t this nice?”

It was, but . . . “I need you to—”

“Move? Not yet.” He kissed her throat, the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, up to her ear. Sounding gravelly and aroused despite his control, he said, “You wrung me out already, so guess what? I can last for hours now.” He rolled her nipple, worked her clit with his thumb, and whispered,“Hours.”

Oh, God, she’d never be able to take it.

His phone rang again, and again he chose to ignore it. But even in a maelstrom of lust, it worried Gillian. “Do you always get this many evening calls?”

He ignored the question and slid out of her, only to drive back in. Hard.

The bed rocked. Gillian gasped. She forgot about the phone.

He did it again. And again. Each thrust was slow and solid as he almost pulled out of her and then buried himself deep. And with each thrust, he held on to her nipple, her clitoris.

Far too quickly, Gillian felt herself on the brink. When Drew’s phone finally stopped ringing, she reached back and clasped his hip, trying to make him move faster.

“Only drawback with this position,” he said, “is that I can’t suck on your nipples. Later, maybe after we’ve showered and gotten something else to eat . . .”

How in the world could he talk right now? Eyes closed and skin dewy, Gillian felt the building of a powerful orgasm pulsing through her nerve endings.

“. . . I’ll get you to sit on my lap, and let me take from you until I get my fill. What do you think, Gillian? Will you let me have an hour or so just drawing off these soft pink nipples of yours?”

The thought astounded, and stimulated, her. Hours? No, she’d never be able to do that.

“Or how about right here?” He caught her small turgid clitoris between fingers and thumb. Tugging gently, he asked, “You like oral sex, honey? Could I maybe sit between your legs, with them real wide, and suck on you here until you—”

Crying out, Gillian climaxed.

She heard Drew chuckle—chuckle—and wanted to strangle him. Later she’d get even. Somehow. She’d have to think about that one. But right now, thoughts were impossible.

He held her close as she came. Toward the end, as a great shuddering moan went through her, she felt him stiffen at her back, felt his hand hard on her hip, keeping her steady for his pounding thrusts.

And he joined her.

They both lay panting, limp. Gillian felt him leave her, and he rolled to his back.

Still breathing fast, he rested a hand on her hip. “I like how you moan, but it does me in.”

Trying to think of something to say, Gillian fell to her back, too—and his doorbell rang.

Both surprised, they looked at each other.

Gillian recovered first. “Well, aren’t you Mr. Popular tonight? First phone calls, and now a visitor.”

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