Page 52 of Charmed

"Shut up, Fi." He grabbed the backs of her thighs and hoisted her.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she cradled his hard length between her folds and cried out at the sweet blast of relief. She ground against him, desperate for more. "Hurry up and I might consider it."

"Damn, woman. You drive me—"

She rolled her hips. "Your turn to shut up."

He roared against her lips, his lids tightly closed. "Screw it. I cave. Whatever you want." He turned them abruptly and took a few steps, arms tightening so she wouldn't slip.

Mouths and hands sought purchase, contacted, and she couldn't tell his from hers. In the frenzy, they bumped into a tall bookcase. It banged the wall, and several volumes crashed at his feet with a reverberating thud.

"Crap," he said between kisses. "I meant to steer us closer to the bed, not farther from it."

"Beds are overrated." She bit his jaw and licked the pulse pounding in his neck.

He tilted his head to give her better access, clutching a shelf for balance. "Condoms are in the nightstand. We have to get over there." Another pivot, and he stumbled in a different direction.

"Too far. I have us covered in the protection department." She got the shot every month and neither of them took safety for granted. Besides, she trusted him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her butt met something cold and solid as he set her down, positioning himself between her legs. The world tilted, and she released him in order to grab the nearest surface. She thought it might be a long dresser and had her suspicions confirmed when drawers rattled. A lamp teetered, fell, and shattered on the floor. A picture frame followed. "Oops."

"Hated that lamp, anyway." He rained kisses over her collarbone. The sweet torture descended where he sucked her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. "Love your breasts, however."

Painful pleasure heated the area, and she shoved her fingers in his hair to hold him to her. But she was still reeling and he didn't seem to be enough to ground her. Nothing helped to calm the turbulent crest she rode, dousing her skin in liquid fire that seared all the way to her bones. She gripped his shoulders, dug her nails in. She bucked her hips, seeking reprieve from the throbbing ache.

He grabbed her behind the knees, pulled her flush against him, and sought her mouth again. But she was already precariously on the edge of the dresser and momentum shifted.

They went airborne and landed with her on top of him on the floor. He grunted, nipping at her lower lip. Before she could inquire if he was all right, he rolled, putting her under him on the decorative rug by the foot of the bed.

He settled over her, urging her legs farther apart with his own. One at a time, his fingers circled her wrists and he pinned them over her head. Thump. Thump. The air whooshed from her lungs as her face was framed by two biceps. One-hundred, ninety pounds of smoking sexy male blanketed every inch of her. He stretched, extending her arms taut, urging their bodies so close a prayer didn't stand a chance of coming between them.

His tip nudged her opening. His heavy gaze swept her face.

And then, he thrust, filling her in one swift, fluid stroke. His brows furrowed, lips parting, expression twisted in tortured pleasure. He made a choking sound and released a ragged breath as if he'd been holding it.

She gasped at the full sensation, the stretch, and closed her eyes. The emptiness eviscerated. She grew dizzy in a whirlwind freefall. Everything inside her came alive, churning in a flutter of a million dragonfly wings.

He rested his forehead to hers. "Don't. Please don't look away."

At his quiet plea, she lifted her lids. And found nothing but him. Only Riley. His expressive eyes framed by thick lashes. His full mouth that challenged and pleasured her. The dark scruff on his wide jaw and arch of his brows.

Hesitation gone, he eased out of her and drove back inside as if to reward her for listening. That stunned look of bliss on his face from moments before was replaced with carnal urgency. Fevered agony. Determined angst.

Motives and destinations dissolved while he plunged over and over again in a rhythm both frantic and structured. Skin slapped skin and sweat sheened. He locked her in place, helpless to fruitless earthly things like technique or skill because he seemed to know what she needed, and it was a mirror to his own demands. Selfish and giving. Offering and receiving.

A pummeling wave dragged her beneath the surface, and she convulsed around him. Under him. With him. Cells exploded and she bowed. She yelled his name against his lips, repeating it until all she could do was whisper and beg.

He stiffened above her, letting go of her wrists and slamming his palms on the floor by her shoulders. Braced, he buried his face in her neck and pumped harder. Unintelligible ramblings were barked against her skin as he found his own climax.

While they floated back to reality, soughing air and quaking, she glided her hand up and down his spine, holding him to her with the other. He nuzzled her ear, stroking her cheek with his thumb. White light filled the darkened crevices inside her at the sudden serenity in the hushed silence.

Despite the uncomfortableness of their location, she relished the weight and warmth of him. He seemed to be as moved as she was by what they'd done together.

Until his chest rumbled with a sluggish, methodical laugh.

As it gained momentum, he looked at her, shaking his head. "The floor, Fi. We had sex on the floor. I can literally reach out and touch the bed—" he jabbed his index finger to the footboard "—and we're on the floor. I blame you."

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