Page 10 of Getting Lucky in London

One arm around me, he bustled me up the front steps and reached into his pocket. I turned into him, back against the door, my mouth seeking the skin beneath his stubbled jawline. I twined an arm around his neck. He’d teased me mercilessly in the cab, and the ride to his place had taken way too long.

“Let me unlock the door.” He fumbled around me to insert the key as I slid a hand over his tented slacks. He grunted and tried to dodge my efforts to grip his cock. “Not fair.”

I laughed. “As fair as your hand halfway up my skirt in the taxi?”

The key turned the lock, and a second later, I staggered backward. Catching me, he walked me backward into the darkened entry and kept going until I hit the wall nearest the open door. My hip knocked against a small table, and I struggled for purchase, my feet tangling with something squishy.

He kicked whatever it was out of the way and slanted his mouth over mine. The heat in my core flared. The kiss was wild, frenzied, and stole my breath. He tasted so good, like champagne and mint. I couldn’t get enough. Fantasy had nothing on the real Michael.

I was vaguely aware of the door shutting before he cupped my breast. Arching into him, I savored the heat of his palm. His other hand slipped under my dress and lifted my leg to wrap it around the back of his thigh. He ground his hips into mine. Need speared deep in my core as his hard erection rode against my clit.

We moaned as one, and he thrust again. A cry tore from my lips as a jolt of pleasure burst from my center, a sharp and explosive promise of things to come. And fuck, I wanted to come.

He eased out of the kiss, his mouth hovering a breath away as if ready to dive back in. “I can’t wait.”

“Please don’t.” I ran my fingers over his chest to the ripple of abs above his waistband. The ache to have him inside me had me searching for his belt.

His breathing labored, he opened some space as he trailed his lips to the crook of my neck and along my shoulder. “Hurry, luv.”

With a giggle and a tug, I slipped the notch loose and undid the clasp of his pants. “Now, he says hurry.”

A muffled chuckle tickled the flesh above my neckline where his lips teased. Warm fingers rose to loop around my bra strap and drag both it and my dress over my shoulder to the crook of my elbow, making it difficult to achieve my task. He yanked the cup down until my breast popped free. He palmed it, squeezed, and his tongue circled the nipple.

A current of delicious heat zipped from my breast to my pussy. “Oh, God.”

The whir of his zipper joined the tearing sound of my panties. He yanked them off as if they were made of tissue rather than lace. Panting, I shoved his pants and boxers down. His cock, hot and heavy and silk over steel, fell into my palm. On instinct, my fingers curled around it.

“No.” He grabbed my wrist and shackled it in a vise-like grip against the wall by my head, caging me. He lowered his forehead to mine. “One touch and I’m gone.”

My heartbeat racing, I nipped at his lower lip and tilted my hips so that his dick slid between my folds and grazed my throbbing clit. Tendrils of heat snaked down my thighs, eliciting a gasp. “Condom. Now. Please.”

He groaned and eased back, only to slide slowly back into place. “Upstairs.”

“Seriously?” I didn’t want to move. The spell might be broken, not to mention the loss of all those delicious feelings. I lifted my leg higher, hooking my knee on his hip and undulated to his slow rhythm. As his shaft rubbed my sensitive clit, I considered saying to hell with a condom, but this was Michael, and I was merely his flavor of the week.

“Afraid so.” He started to pull away when I remembered the condom in her purse.

“Wait. I have one.” I scrambled for the clutch bag and found it still hanging on the shoulder he hadn’t undressed yet. Unsnapping the latch, I dug into the little zipper pocket and pulled out the neon yellow packet. “It’s not mine. I was holding it for a friend.”

“Sounds like something you tell your parents about the weed in your backpack.” He took the condom and tore it open with his teeth. “But tell your friend I’m ever so grateful.”

I watched him roll the rubber over the broad head and down the long shaft and couldn’t help but laugh. My shoulders shook so hard my purse fell to the floor, its contents clattering around our feet.

“Any other time a woman laughed at my dick, I’d be offended, but…” He looked down at the neon yellow glow-in-the-dark condom with bold black letters along the shaft. It read,Rip It, Grip It, Roll It, Dip It.

“It’s blinding me.” Giggling, I could barely speak. Maybe the champagne hadn’t worn off.

He swooped in to capture my lips. The spongy head of his cock tested my wet opening. I squirmed, trying to get him inside me. And then he drove deep, filling me with one thrust.

He drew his head back. “Bloody hell, you feel good.”

“Back atcha.”

The thickness of his erection stretched my inner walls, and the ridge around the tip teased my G-spot. Supported by his body and the wall, I lifted both legs to anchor them around his waist. He slipped deeper.

I moaned and drove my fingers into the hair at his nape to tug him closer. “Kiss me.”

His lips grazed mine, then claimed them with the force of a hurricane that dragged me back into the storm of lust. The rhythm he set was hard and fast, his dick pounding into me. The friction spun me higher.

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