Page 64 of Ship Happens

My hands push his shirt from his shoulders, gripping the perfect muscles of his back, slipping beneath his waistband to urge his hips closer to mine. His hard cock presses against my thigh, making me shift.

“Patience,” he says, kissing his way down my ribcage, across my stomach. “We have all night.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter, then lose my train of thought as his mouth continues its downward journey.

By the time he is between my thighs, I’m already close to the edge. The first touch of his tongue against my lace-covered clit makes me gasp his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“Still want me to hurry?” he asks, looking up my body with smugness.

“Don’t you dare stop,” I manage, I am beyond caring about his ego at this point.

He laughs, the vibration against sensitive flesh nearly undoing me, before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my underwear, drawing them down my legs. When his mouth returns to me, the sensation is so intense I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming.

Just as I approach the peak, he slides two fingers inside me, curving them forward in the perfect motion to send me tumbling over the edge. I come with his name on my lips, one hand fisted in his hair, the other gripping his expensive sheets.

Before I’ve even recovered, he’s moving up my body, discarding his remaining clothing. When he settles between my thighs, now gloriously naked, the weight and heat of him draws a fresh moan from me.

His eyes close, jaw tightening with restraint as I grip his cock in my hand.

“Harper,” he groans when I give him a last stroke. “You’re testing my control.”

“Good,” I reply, guiding him to my entrance. “I like it when you lose control.”

His eyes lock on mine as he pushes forward, filling me in one slow, perfect thrust that makes us both moan. For a moment, we remain still, connected in the most intimate way.

Then he begins to move, and coherent thought dissolves into sensation. We find our rhythm, our bodies remembering each other. His hands pin mine above my head, fingers interlocking as he drives deeper, the position allowing him to hit my g-spot with each thrust.

“Ethan,” I gasp as pressure builds again, faster than I would have thought possible after my first orgasm. “Right there—don’t stop?—”

“Not stopping,” he promises, his rhythm faltering as his own control frays. “Come again for me, Harper. I want to feel you come on my cock.”

The commanding tone combined with the perfect angle pushes me over the edge a second time, my body clenching around him as pleasure radiates through me in waves. He can’t hold back, my name a groan against my neck as his hips stutter and still.

For several long minutes afterward, our breathing slowing, neither willing to break the connection.Ethan shifts his weight to the side, keeping one arm draped across my waist.

“That was...” he begins, then laughs softly. “I’m not even sure how to describe that.”

“Hmmm,” I moan, turning to face him.

“Is that scientific terminology for ‘mind-blowing’?”

“It is.” I trace patterns on his chest, enjoying the freedom to touch him like this, in his bed.

We fall silent, comfortable in the afterglow. After a while, Ethan traces his fingers along my spine in a gentle caress.

“Stay the night?” he asks, voice casual but with an undercurrent of vulnerability that tugs at my heart.

“I’d like that,” I reply. “Though I didn’t bring anything for tomorrow.”

“I have a functional shower and can provide a t-shirt,” he offers. “Or we could stop by your place in the morning before work.”

“A t-shirt works,” I decide. “Though my publisher might have questions if I show up in this dress, or your shirt.”

“Tell them you were conducting very important environmental research,” he laughs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Overnight monitoring.”

I laugh, the sound free and genuine. “Terrible. You’re terrible.”

“You like it,” he says.

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