Page 21 of Love on the Tracks
She’s got her fingers clutching my hair, not shy of directing my mouth where she’d like it, and praising me when I’ve done something she enjoys. Apparently, sex is another area in which she’s confident, and it’s to-die-for hot.
“God, yes, Zane. Do that again. Again. Again.”
Gladly.I would gladly make her come like this, feel the pulse of her orgasm against my tongue and receive the cant of her hips as she rocks into me, savoring the last throbs she can wring out of it against my face.
As I’m pushing her toward the edge, she pulls on my hair, harder than would signal a switch from having my tongue inside her to going back to teasing her clit with licks and gentle bites. I look up, hoping she’ll keep rolling with the instructions, and when I do, she tugs me again, drawing me further up her body, still between her thighs.
“Now. I want to fuck you now.”
What kind of idiot would argue with that? Not this kind. So I reach over to the drawer, luckily close enough I don’t have to clamber out from between her legs, and rip a condom off the strip.
“Give me that.”
My bossy Valkyrie. She rips the foil and then grips me again, making my eyes close and my abs contract.
“Some other time I’ll suck you, but I don’t have the patience for it right now.”
I laugh, an embarrassing sound that’s half bark and half groan. This woman is going to be the death of me. The thought of her taking me in her demanding mouth makes my eyes roll back in my head and I almost die when she fits the latex over me. Fingers gentle but determined, I can only imagine what she’d be like with her mouth. Probably a good thing I don’t get to find out yet because I wouldn’t last more than ten seconds.
When it’s done, she grabs my ass and draws me toward her, boldly taking hold of my cock and steering me inside of her. Girl has to be aggressive to go rocketing down a tunnel of ice at insane speeds, but this I wasn’t expecting. She angles her hips to take me deep, and I press inside her, not seeking permission because she so clearly wants this.
It’s only a couple of seconds before I’m in her to the hilt and it’s everything I expected. Hot, tight, and slick inside of her, and the blatant pleasure breaking across her features as we find our rhythm. Her fingers grip my butt, urging me into a tempo I hope is going to get her there. She might be leaving bruises in the shape of fingerprints on my ass and the thought only makes me go at her harder.
Fucking Rowan is an exquisite collision. Brutal in a way, but also achingly sweet, and hard-sought from both sides. As if with every thrust, we’re telling each other,This is how much I want you. I want you more than words can say, so I’ll tell you with my body. More, more, more. Yes.
I don’t think I can ever get enough of my skin to touch hers: she’s soft, but underneath she’s all steel, and there’s some kind of alchemy that’s happening with the way she smells and moves, and hell, the way she goddamn breathes. It’s intoxicating, and I want to drink her all up.
That’s when her hands move from my butt up to my shoulder blades and she claws at me, scoring the skin of my back with her short nails, and snapping her hips hard against me. The impact is jarring but in this dizzyingly sexy way especially because with every thrust against me, I know she’s taking what she wants form my body.
She doesn’t have one of those theatrical orgasms, the ones I can never quite trust, because it seems as though maybe they’ve been learned from a movie, and this is what you’re supposed to sound like when you climax, yes? Rowan’s is a short, startled cry followed by half-swallowed moans, because she can’t catch her breath.
The regular pulsing of her muscles around me makes me loosen the tight grip I have on the last ounce of my control, and I lose it. Just fucking lose it and spill in her, burying my head in her neck and breathing her in as I go lightheaded because I’ve never come quite that hard.
In the last moments of our respective climaxes, I kiss and nuzzle her neck, enjoying the smell of her having slept in my bed. After a kiss to her forehead, I roll off and collapse beside her. On my way, I can’t help but notice the dreamy smile on her face.Way to go Rivera, self-high five.
We lay in silence for a few minutes—well, not quite silence with our breaths mingling until they’ve evened out, and then she’s rolling to her side and propping her head up with a hand.
“That was awesome.”
I smile, because she’s so blunt. None of this worshipful “Oh, Zane, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” blah blah blah, but acknowledgement that yeah, that was fucking awesome, pun entirely intended.
“Totally.”
She moves toward me, and I take her under my arm, loving the solidness of her against me. She lays her head on my shoulder and a hand on the cut of my hip and I stroke her arm. Downy, barely-there hair and soft skin over cut muscles.
“Where’d you learn to sing?”
She giggles, a shy sound that’s surprising after what we’ve done, but surprisingly sweet. We just fucked like whoa and she’s going to be shy about singing?
“I can’t sing.”
Affection wells in me and I can’t help but lay a kiss on the top of her head. “Yes you can. If someone in this bed is an expert on singing, is it you or me? You can sing. Not on Broadway maybe, but you can more than carry a tune. And harmonize. You, Rowan Andrews, can sing.”
She snuggles further into me, and scritches lightly at my stomach. “Before I started training hardcore, when I was still in regular school instead of having tutors, I was in the school chorus. I liked it. Now the only places I sing are in my car or in the shower.”
Lucky them, getting to enjoy stealthy performances. And the idea of Rowan sudsing up her long blond hair while she hums one of my songs is a small, pleasant ache. I would pay good money to see that.
I kiss her again and hold her to me. “Well, thank you. For last night. That song’s been stuck, and you shook something loose. I’ve got it now. Almost. I need to nail the end.”
