Page 9 of Overtime with Orion
His eyes were blazing. “Now,” he said, his voice raw with need. “On the blanket.”
He helped me to my feet, his own legs seeming a little unsteady. As I lowered myself onto the soft wool, he looked down at me, his expression a mixture of awe and fierce possession.
“I’m going to show you,” he promised, his voice a low vow that echoed across the water, “exactly what you’d been missing.”
4
ORION
The world shrank down to her scent, the sweat on my own skin, and the little sounds she couldn’t hold back. I was on my knees between her legs, thinking about nothing but her. My tongue found that tight, swollen spot that made her tremble, and my fingers—first one, then two—slipped inside her hot, gripping heat.
This was worship.
I kept my eyes on her, lit by the cold, hard moonlight. Her head was thrown back, neck bare and open, lips parted, breathing ragged and uneven. Every move I made—my tongue, my fingers—showed on her face. Her eyelids fluttered, her jaw tightened, and a low, broken moan slipped out. Hell, it was the sweetest sound I ever heard.
And her tits. Christ, her tits. She was flat on her back, and they were just…there, full and heavy, moving with every ragged breath.
Damn.
The sight of them, the knowledge that I was the one unmaking her, almost undid me. It took every ounce of mycontrol not to sheath myself in her right then, to feel that tight, virgin heat around me.
But this was for her. That first, shattering peak was for her.
I felt it the moment her orgasm started. Her inner muscles fluttered around my fingers, a frantic, rhythmic pulse. A high, thin cry tore from her throat, and her entire body bowed off the blanket, rigid with ecstasy. I didn’t stop. I rode the wave with her, my tongue gentling, my fingers still moving slowly within her, drawing out every last shudder until she collapsed back onto the blanket, boneless and spent.
I kissed my way up her trembling stomach, over the stunning curve of her breast, and captured her mouth with mine, letting her taste herself on my lips. She kissed me back with a languid, sated sweetness that ignited a fresh, more urgent fire in my blood.
“Now,” I growled against her mouth, shifting my weight, positioning myself at her entrance. The blunt head of my cock pressed against her wet heat, and I groaned with the effort of not plunging in. “I need to be inside you, Larkin.”
Her hands came up, pressing against my chest. “Wait.”
That single word hit me like a bucket of ice. I went stiff, every muscle on edge. Hell, had she changed her mind? The thought twisted my gut. But when I looked at her, her eyes…they were steady. Clear. No fear.
“I’m on birth control,” she said, her voice still breathy. “I’m safe.”
That hit me like a punch straight to the gut. Birth control. It didn’t even cross my mind—not once. Damn it. Damn me. How the hell could I be so stupid, so reckless?
With any other woman, that was the first thing I’d have worried about. The last thing I’d want was to trap a woman with a kid. To make a life out of one careless moment.
But looking down at her—face flushed, eyes trusting—none of the panic hit me. The cold dread was gone. Instead, there was this deep, raw sense of…rightness. The thought of getting her pregnant? It wasn't a nightmare. Hell, it felt almost like a fantasy—distant maybe, but appealing.
Before I could process that seismic shift, she moved, pushing me back. For a heart-stopping second, I thought she was pushing me away. But she sat up, her hair a wild, dark cloud around her shoulders, and her gaze was suddenly filled with a new, fierce determination.
“Lie down,” she commanded.
The authority in her soft voice was undeniable. I obeyed, rolling onto my back on the blanket, my cock standing achingly hard against my stomach. The autumn breeze, cool and crisp, whispered over my feverish skin, carrying the scent of damp earth and dying leaves. I watched, mesmerized, as she rose onto her knees and then straddled my hips.
Her eyes locked on mine as she reached between us, her fingers guiding me to her entrance. She positioned the head of my cock there, and then, with a sharp, shuddering intake of breath, she sank down.
She winced, a sharp, pained gasp escaping her lips. Her body was impossibly tight, a silken, fiery fist clenching around me, and the sensation was so intense, I saw stars. I gripped her hips, not to move her, but to steady her. To steady us both.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” I rasped, my voice strained. “Just breathe through it.”
She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands braced on my chest. I could feel the tension in her thighs, the resistance in her body. I needed to distract her. I had to make this good for her.
“Touch yourself,” I commanded softly. “Put your hands on your breasts. Show me how beautiful you are.”
Her eyes fluttered open, a flicker of surprise there, but she obeyed. Her hands rose, cupping the heavy, magnificent weight of her breasts, her thumbs brushing over her nipples. The sight was so erotic, so utterly devastating, that I groaned, my hips giving an involuntary jerk that made her cry out.
