quivered.
Then she drank in the sight of him. Crinkly hair sprouted at the base of his cock. A tan line bisected his belly, the crown of his penis crossing it. Dark hair sprinkled with gray covered his chest and flat, brown nipples tempted her tongue.
Before she could move to take one in her mouth, he stroked through her curls. “A woman’s glory. Her power.” He found her clitoris and rubbed it to throbbing heat. “Do you feel it?”
Sensation streaked through her limbs. “Yes.”
He slid one finger inside and pumped as he had with the vibrator. “Do you want me inside you?”
His touch rushed her to the edge as if she hadn’t orgasmed only minutes before. “God, yes.”
He stopped long enough to whisper a harsh demand. “Say my name. Beg me.”
“Make love to me, Stephen. Please. Make me come again.”
He pulled back to shove off his clothes and put on a condom. She wanted to feel every inch of him with every part of her body. Belly to belly, he pulled her tight, trapping his cock between them, rocking gently. He closed his eyes, groaned, then finally, he rose and braced himself with one hand.
“Take me inside you,” he whispered.
She parted her legs, reached between them and held him, using him to stroke herself. “Just to get you all nice and wet.”
His eyes gleamed. “Do anything you want.”
She closed her eyes, fitted him to her. Then she wound her arms around his neck. “I want you inside. All the way. As high as you’ll go.” She pulled herself up to press her breasts to his chest. “In one thrust.”
He settled on her, gathered her butt in his hands, then slammed into her. She gasped, wrapped her arms around him, and held him that way for a moment. Savoring the feel. It was so much better than silicon.
“Now fuck me, Stephen.”
He moved inside her.
“Faster,” she urged. “Harder.”
He rose to his elbows, increasing the pace, the friction. She raised her legs to his waist. With one hand behind her knee, he forced her higher, his penetration deeper. She felt him touch her womb. His body pummeled her, thrust her across the bed until her head hit the pillows. She braced against the headboard.
“You feel so damn good.” Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Fuck me, Stephen. Fuck me.” She chanted the act, his name, over and over.
He lowered his head like a ram and took her with the mindless ferocity of an animal. Their slick flesh slapped and rubbed as he angled and arched. With each thrust, rough hair and hard flesh pounded her clitoris. On the inside, he captured a sweet spot she hadn’t known existed.
“Jesus, God.” His throat corded. “Fuck. Oh God. I—” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit. Ah shit.” Then he threw back his head and howled.
She came as he pulsed inside her. Came as he cried out. Came as he lost total control. She clung to him in the storm of sensation and kept on clinging when the tempest was over. His warm flesh stuck to her, their bodies fused. He breathed hard against her shoulder, his head buried in her hair. He trembled against her, inside her, all around her.
Nothing had ever felt so perfect.
She didn’t care about the wrongness in what she was doing, didn’t care about the consequences. That’s what addicts did. Told themselves they were in control. She wasn’t, but she would take everything she could get for as long as Stephen offered it.
Chapter Nine
It had been a week since Stephen last held her, a week in which pieces of his soul died. Their emails weren’t enough, leaving a gaping hole in his chest. In the garish bordello room, buried deep inside her, he’d almost shouted out his love. Every day since, the need to tell her grew stronger, more obsessive. He didn’t want a quick fuck, not even a long night of fucking if he couldn’t wake up beside her in the morning. Every morning. He couldn’t sneak off to meet her. He wouldn’t share her.
Yet he’d sent another invitation.
Tonight, The Sex Club was too damn
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