Page 53 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

They kissed ferociously as Polly backed him hard into the front door, her palms sending heat into his chest. In a flash, he swung them round and it was Polly’s turn to be backed against the hard surface. He let his tongue explore her mouth with deliberate precision, and she moaned softly, her body all yielding curves, pressed against his rigid cock. And then… JesusssChrist, when she reached a hand between them and palmed him over his jeans he nearly tipped over the edge. In answer his fingers ruched up the satin of her dress, relishing the slide of fabric, of skin meeting skin, as his palm found the top of her suspenders.

“Wicked thing,” he muttered, hot against her mouth.

“What did you expect?” she panted.

“Nothing less from you.” He tongued the rim of her lips.

Right now, all he wanted was to dive into her, bury in deep and happily never surface again.

When she wrapped her hand over his and moved his fingers higher, he almost forgot to breathe; no way was he going to stop her, even though they were still in full view of the street. She directed his hand under the drenched gusset of her panties to the slippery delight of her sex. Strumming the hard nub of her clit elicited little gasps and sighs as her head kicked back against the door.

Her body was melting into his touch but he had the presence of mind—just—to know that a crazy coupling against Carts’ open front door maybe wasn’t the best idea.

“Bedroom,” he gritted out and she nodded wordlessly.

Somehow he’d managed to silence Polly Fletcher with a few deft strokes of his fingers. Sweet fucking victory.

Reluctantly, he removed his hand from between her legs, looped his arm around her waist, and tugged her through the door before slamming it with his heel and heading with her up the stairs.

It appeared Polly had no problem with a show of primitive male behaviour, if the light trip of her feet and that soft breathy giggle close to his ear was anything to go by.

Seconds later, Solo had slammed the bedroom door with the same finesse, and for a moment they stood gasping in the light cast from the street lamp outside; eyes eating into each other, before Polly’s nimble fingers ripped at his shirt buttons.

“Nice.” Her voice was thick like treacle as she admired his bare pecs.

“Nice? Is that the best you can do?”

She stepped back and shimmied out of her dress. Seeing her in just her lacy bra and undies, he felt a rumble of delight rising up his throat.

“Now you.” She tossed black curls away from her shoulders.

He grinned. Slowly undid his belt.

“Take your bra off,” he demanded, sliding his jeans lower over his hips, aware of his erection wanting to burst from the confines of his boxers. “Or I don’t go another inch.”

“Fighting talk,” Polly murmured, but biting at her lower lip, she did as he’d asked.

Moments later her beautiful white breasts, big and full and heavy and just as amazing as he remembered, stood proud, her nipples dark against the luminosity of her skin.

Hot air whooshed from his nostrils. His mouth went dry. The buzz in his balls tightened to a deep ache.

In front of him her hands toyed with her breasts, a look of triumph curling her lips as she tweaked each nipple into a hard peak.

“Boxers. Off.” Her voice was hoarse, and such a turn-on his cock bucked an immediate response.

Trying to pretend he wasn’t desperate, Solo shucked down his jeans and boxers and his cock bounced free, ready for action. She licked her lips, gave a little sound, almost a battle cry, and as if of one mind they sprang at each other like two wild animals. In between wild, wet kisses her warm fingers were shafting him, his own exploring between her legs, working her as she moaned with pleasure. It felt to Solo like the boundaries of their bodies had merged.

Pulling back with super-human effort, he pressed her gently down onto the bed and propped himself on his arms above her. Polly flopped backwards with a husky moan.

He worked little kisses down her body, over the soft mound of her belly, until he reached the heart-shaped little patch of dark hair.

She spread her legs and arched her back.

Almost reverently, he kneeled between her splayed legs and, taking her gently by the thighs, slung one leg over each of his shoulders.

As she squirmed deliciously below him, he dipped his head… lower… lower…

“Oh-myyyy-god,” she sang and her fingers weaved tight into his hair.

With a groan of pleasure, Solo buried his mouth deep and let his tongue work its magic.

---