Page 77 of A Shot at Love
Soon, too soon, he needed to do more than just kiss her.
Tucked between her legs, his erection pressed against her stomach and throbbing for release, her legs wrapped around his waist, he broke from her lips, touched his forehead to hers and inhaled deeply.
Gemma opened her eyes. While her nails raked gently up and down his back and across his shoulders, she said, “Okay. My turn to ask. What’s wrong?”
He dropped a soft kiss to her nose. “I want to be inside you.” His lips dragged to her neck, kissed the sweet spot behind her ear. When her entire body shuddered against him, he had to count to ten so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and spill all over her. “I want to pound into you hard and fast, over and over, until I make you scream when you come.”
Gemma moaned and tightened her legs around him.
“And then I want to do it all again.”
An oath whispered through her lips. “Okay.” She swallowed. “Are you asking permission? Because if you are then, hell yeah. Go for it.”
How could a woman make him so hard he could drill through concrete and laugh at the same time?
He kissed her lips again and smiled. “I was pretty confident you were already on board,” he told her, moving to kiss her cheek, then up to her brows.
“Okay, so? What are you waiting for?” She wiggled her hips again, making him blind for a second.
He lifted his head and looked down at her face, pinched now in confusion.
“I don’t have anything to protect you with.”
“Oh.” Her expression cleared. “Oh!”
“I didn’t plan on this…happening between us. I’m not prepared the way I should be. I don’t want to take a chance on you getting pregnant.”
Her eyes shifted, softened. She lifted a hand to his cheek. He kissed her palm and swore he heard her sigh.
“Move back.” She lifted herself and shoved against him. He sat back on his knees.
“Lay down,” she commanded.
His lips twisted. “You like giving orders.”
“Trust me, this time you’ll be glad you obeyed,” she said, while settling next to him.
“Now,” she molded her hand against his erection and tugged. “While I’d simply love to have you inside me,” she licked him from bottom to top on the underside of his shaft, “pounding hard and fast until I came screaming,” she trailed her tongue down the other side, “it’ll be more fun for me to watch while I make you come, screaming.” She took him, all of him, in her mouth.
Ky almost shot off the bed. Christ, she was gonna kill him. He was just about to tell her that when all logical, sentient, conscious, thought flew from his head. Her hand followed her mouth as she pumped him up and down, her tongue doing wild and imaginative things to his tip.
No amount of counting, conjugating Greek verbs, or reciting geometry theorems could calm him. He felt a sharp twist in his lower back coil deeper and speed to his groin as Gemma’s pace quickened.
When he came, just quick enough to clamp his lips together before he really did scream her name, she stayed with him until the end, as he had her, her lips cuddled around him with every thrust and explosion until he was empty.
The bed shifted, then the sound of the water running in the adjoining bathroom met his ears. Next time, he’d make sure to have a condom. No, several.
His eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling.
Next time.
Christ, his pulse hadn’t even calmed yet and he was already thinking of next time. He closed his eyes again.
Yeah, there was gonna be a next time with Gemma. Many next times. They’d started something he wanted, needed to explore further. She was such a dichotomy of independence and need; physically tough, yet he sensed she was emotionally fragile. The hard exterior she showed the world, he knew hid the heart of a softie. She was an awful lot like the women in his own family. More times than he could remember his father had claimed the true head of the family was the woman because she had the strength of a lion and the heart of a dove.
Yeah, there were going to be many, many more next times with Gemma Laine.
His breathing hadn’t calmed, his heart still hammering against his ribs when she came back into the room.
Flat on his back, his arms splayed at his sides, he didn’t want to move; couldn’t if he had to.
