Page 82 of Hang the Moon
When she reached his flank, he twitched, laughter bubbling between his lips before he pressed them tightly together and snagged her hand, holding it still.
“Ticklish?”
“No.” His left eye twitched, then his lips. “Maybe.”
She grinned. Something to explore some other time when being quiet wasn’t paramount. She tugged on his shirttails. “You should be naked.”
His brows rose and he grinned. “I should, should I?”
“You should.” Like, yesterday.
He shed his shirt and stood, dropping his hands to the button on his pants. He was straining the zipper, visibly hard. The relief on his face was obvious when he tucked his fingers beneath the slackened waist of his pants and boxers, shedding both at once.
Her mouth went dry.
A flush had turned his chest pink, color wrapping around the front of his throat. Freckles dotted his chest, growing less concentrated the further south her eyes dipped. Her tongue slipped out, wetting her lips, wanting to trace the ridges of his stomach and kiss the deep cut of muscles that flared like an arrow, pointing to where his cock proudly jutted out from his body.
He took one step forward and froze, a line appearing between his brows. “Fuck.”
That was kind of the point? “Yes?”
His head rolled back on his shoulders and he stared up at the ceiling. “I don’t have a condom.”
That would’ve been a problem had she not been 99 percent sure there was one inside her makeup bag. “Well, Darcy definitely won’t have one lying around.”
He shuddered and palmed his cock. “Please don’t talk about my sister while I have an erection.”
She stifled a laugh and pointed at her open suitcase. “Check the side pocket of the pink bag.”
He found a condom quickly, holding it up, looking both pleased and relieved as he crossed the room toward the bed.
She sat up, watching Brendon’s hands shake as he tore open the foil. His eyes flashed up, meeting hers, his lips twitching into a grin as he stroked his condom-covered shaft and set a knee on the bed.
She slid backward, higher up the bed, then changed her mind, rolling over onto her hands and knees.
Behind her, his breath hitched audibly and he groaned. “Fuck.”
Even as her heart pounded and anticipation made her breath quicken, her lips curved. She craned her neck, looking over her shoulder. Brendon was watching her, lids heavy and color high on his cheeks, his hand gripping his cock.
“Is this okay?” she asked.
She wanted to feel him surrounding her, wanted him to touch as much of her as possible, to feel his heart pound, his chest pressed against her back.
The bed dipped, sinking beneath their combined weight, as he crawled closer on his knees. His throat jerked when he swallowed and nodded.
Just like she’d wanted, he molded himself to her back, pressing an openmouthed kiss to the ball of her shoulder. She turned her head and he was right there, close enough to kiss, so she did.
His mouth still covering hers, he guided himself to her entrance, the head of his cock sliding through her folds, making her quake with anticipation verging on impatience. He drew back an inch and asked, “You sure?”
She’d have rolled her eyes had she not been stupidly smitten with howsweethe was.
She nodded, then gasped against his lips, her fingers twisting in the sheets, as he sank inside her, stretching her, stopping only when his hips were flush with hers. Her head fell forward, breaking the kiss, as she panted softly.
He exhaled sharply, his hands settling on her hips, fingerspressing into her skin as he drew back. His first thrust was slow but still managed to knock the wind from her lungs as she hung her head and closed her eyes.
“Fuck.” He set a slow place, too slow, the friction of his cock inside her making her desperate.
It was good,so good, but not enough. “Harder.”
