My eyes opened wide at the size, but I knew it was like that. I had felt him pressing against me for so many nights.
He caught my look, a grin appearing. “Don’t worry. I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I’d never want someone else. He would ruin me, but he didn’t ask, and he reached for a condom. Sliding it on, he paused, his eyes twinkling. “Next time, you put it on. That’ll be a different sort of fun game.”
More groaning. He was going to be the death of me.
Then he was on the bed again, his fingers making quick work of my pants. He tugged them off, my underwear next, until I was stretched out for his viewing pleasure. He paused, taking me all in, and he nudged my legs wider, bending quick to press a kiss there before moving over me. I felt him line up, and he paused, our gazes holding.
At “God,” he pushed in, and I arched, my back leaving the bed, my breasts pushing against his chest. I was so full. He paused before moving even further inside of me.
I was seeing stars.
I was feeling stars.
He began to move, and I couldn’t hold it in. The sensations. The lust. He was moving slow, taking me deep, pulling me, pushing me, owning me, and I was holding on for my life. He began to move quicker. I was with him, my hips rocking. I raked my nails down his back and he gasped into my neck, his head rearing up.
He paused, rasping out, “Slow or rough? You choose.”
His hips pressed down on mine. He swiveled them, grinding inside of me, twisting both ways, and I could barely breathe.
“Choose.” He said it softly, falling to place a lingering kiss on my throat. “Or I will.”
I couldn’t choose. I was shaking my head, just needing him. “Both.”
“Oh, you’re getting both, but you choose the first one.”
I felt it building, and feeling it coming up, erupting out of me, I cried out, “Rough! Rough, please.”
He grunted, his hand coming to my hip. He pulled out till his tip was just inside, then he thrust in, and he thrust in hard. He picked me up, his hand under my ass, gripping me, and he went fast, he went rough, until I was seeing those stars all over again.
Still he kept going. Still he didn’t stop.
Then he held me still, arched over me. He moved in and out of me, seamlessly, gliding. It was spreading, moving. He was building a whole new level of frenzied fervor underneath the throb I was already feeling. He was entwining both of them, threading them together. And he paused again, gripped me, and lifted me up. He shoved us both back so the headboard was behind me, his knees on the bed, and I was pinned in place as he continued to plunge into me.
I felt it from the base of my spine.
He was helping it, taking me, bending over me, and his mouth latched onto mine as my climax ripped through me. I screamed from the onslaught of it, his lips claimed me, and a moment later I felt him erupting, just on the heels of my climax.
He held me until we’d both stopped shaking, and then he slid out gently. Climbing off the bed, he disposed of the condom, but he came back, pulling me to him.
“Kash?” I looked up, my head resting against his shoulder. “I don’t want just one night.”
His eyes darkened with lust—and another emotion. “Then it won’t be just one night.” He bent down, his lips finding mine, and it wasn’t long before he moved and lifted me again, and this time I rode him.
I padded barefoot out to his kitchen.
We’d woken twice during the night. Kash reached for me the first, and I had pulled him in the second time. There’d been a third round this morning, in the shower, and I was fully sated. Completely sated. I almost couldn’t move this morning.
I was sore, but it was worth it. More than worth it.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw it was just past eleven.
Kash was at the stove, shirtless, and I had to stop and gawk. No one would blame me. He was standing, half turned away from me, paused in his stirring as he read something on his phone. His shoulder muscles were standing out. His spine flattened in as the rest of his back was corded and—was this an addiction? My mouth went dry at the sight of him. His sweatpants low on those hips. Those same hips that had been moving against mine, in and out, in and out, rotating, going deeper.
His eyes flicked to mine.
I flushed, caught ogling him, and I ducked my head down.
He grinned, putting his phone down. “How are you feeling?”
He watched me as I moved farther into the kitchen, going to the coffee machine. He asked, “You’re not sore?”
I turned, glanced at him. I felt bad saying it.
His grin grew, turning rakish. “You can be sore. I’d imagine you would be. I should apologize, but I’d be lying. I’m not sorry, not at all. Last night was amazing.”
I took out the coffeepot. “This morning, too.”
His eyes darkened, skimming down my face, lingering on my lips, traveling all the way until I could feel his gaze on my ass. I was wearing his shirt, nothing underneath, and the sight made him happy. Lust had started to form.
Pouring myself a cup, I turned, blowing on it a second. My back rested against the counter. I shook my head. “And you’re right. I am sore. I’ll need at least an hour to heal.”
He laughed, turning back to the eggs in the pan. “You like ’em hard?”
I’d been taking a sip, then sputtered at that. Shooting him a glare. “Har har.”
He still chuckled, then grew serious, motioning to his phone. “We have to go to the estate today. I have to deal with Matt later.”
“Can it be later later?”
He studied me a second. “You’re needing a break?”
“From them.” I waved to his phone. “Matt. Yes. Most definitely.” Gazing around, I asked, “Can we have a skip day? Is that a thing?”
“You want to hang here for the day?”
I half joked, “Can we hang here forever?”
His eyes darkened again, somber, and going to my lips. “We can stay here, yeah.” He crossed the kitchen, dipping down for a light kiss. He murmured, “I was thinking you’d like to check in on your mother today, too.”