Page 50 of Second Draft

I swallow hard, when his cock springs free, my mouth watering for a taste. I lick my lips and he groans.

“There’s no way in hell I’m going to last if you put those sweet lips around me,” he growls out.

I give a small pout, and he chuckles.

“There’ll be lots of time for that in the future, but I’ve been waiting too damn long to be inside of you and I’m already barely hanging onto my control.”

That makes me smile. I love that I can do that to him. Make him want me with that much need.

I reach out and stroke his long length, reveling in the silkiness of it.

“I don’t have anything,” he moves above me, pressing his cock against my stomach, his thick thighs spreading my legs wider.

It takes a second for me to realize that he means protection.

“I’m clean,” I whisper against his lips as he kisses me.

“So am I,” he says, the restraint in his voice fraying.

I place my palms on his face, locking my gaze with his, my heart hammering in my chest. “Then make love to me.”

Maybe it’s not the right thing to say. Maybe I should have told him to just take me, or have sex with me. But this thing between us is so much more than that. At least I think it is. Maybe I just want it to be.

The intensity in his gaze as he moves above me, pressing the head of his heavy erection at my entrance, is almost too much.

I gasp as his hips thrust forward, and he buries himself deep inside of me.

“God, Layla,” he breathes out, resting his forehead against mine, and giving me a moment for my body to adjust to his width and length.

There’s a delicious ache between my legs as my walls tighten and relax. My experience with sex is limited to a couple drunken encounters, and this is more than I’ve ever experienced.

The realness of it. His body connected to mine. I’m aware of his every slight movement, every breath, ever heartbeat.

I love you, I want to cry out, as he starts to move inside of me. Instead, I hold onto him, shutting off my brain, and trying to shut off my emotions.

An impossible task. Because already I’m way over my head, and I know that after tonight, after this, losing him won’t just break me, it’ll destroy me.

His hands are all over me now, stroking down my thigh, across my breasts, thumb playing with my nipple, and causing more sensations to pulsate straight to my core.

I close my eyes, unable to look at his beautiful face, not when my body is singing with pleasure, and he’s pushing me to places I’ve never been before. My legs wrap around his hips, my fingers dig into his back, and I move with him, each thrust, each stroke more demanding than the last.

“Eyes”–he thrusts deep–“On”–his palm is on my face–“Me.”

I blink up at him as he rides me harder, my body overloaded with sensations, my emotions twisting this incredible experience into something more than I know it is.

I can feel my orgasm building, can sense his own so close.

“Let go, sweetheart.” His intense blue gaze bores into me, demanding more than just my body.

His hips buck against mine, his body filling and stretching me, making it impossible to resist the pleasure that all but consumes me.

I feel myself giving in, because I don’t have the strength to fight it.

“Carter,” I whimper against his lips as his mouth crashes against mine. My fingers tangle in his hair and I try to breathe in a ragged breath, but I can’t get enough oxygen into my system. It’s like I’m being tortured with pleasure, and I don’t know if I’ll survive.

His quick, hard strokes have me exploding in seconds. A flood of sensations wracks my body and every muscle tenses and tightens. I cry out. What I don’t know. All I know is that for a moment I swear I lose consciousness as the orgasm that was building rips almost violently through my entire body.

Pure, blissful rapture. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me.

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