it’s your turn.”
A mental image of Peter touching himself over her, stroking himself off, had her going so achy with sexual hunger that it overrode all her senses, and all she could do was moan helplessly, overwhelmed with the knowledge that he’d wanted her like this all along.
Then her hands were all over him, ripping at his shirt, tugging at his jeans. Peter naked was all she wanted—everything she could need. When his shirt got caught at his chin, he laughed and yanked it the rest of the way off.
“Better?” he said, eyes hot and hazy with passion. She was about to respond when he snagged two fingers into the front of her bodice and tugged hard. Her breasts sprang free and he grinned wickedly. “No,
A laugh bubbled loose and she tossed back her head just as his mouth captured one of her nipples and sucked gently. Then she groaned and grabbed for his zipper, yanking it down. As soon as he was free, she wrapped her hand around him and smiled victoriously when his hands dug into her hips hard and he hissed between his teeth. His forehead fell to hers and he closed his eyes, panting. “Jesus.”
Her thumb slipped over the head of his penis, traced the plump ridge and he shuddered, swore. It drove her crazy. Stealing a peek down her body, Leslie moaned softly at the sight of her hand wrapped around his thick shaft, stroking. Her fingers circled the base, and when she moved them down the impressive length of him she noticed it.
Peter’s tattoo.
And she suddenly burst out laughing. “Oh God, you really do have one! I was so drunk that night I thought I’d imagined that!”
But she hadn’t. There, right where the base of his cock met his groin in stylized black script was his THANK YOU FOR RIDING tattoo.
Still laughing, Peter nipped her skin playfully and growled against her neck as he spun her around and moved her to the desk, “What’s so funny?”
Her ass was on the flat surface and his large hands were moving up her thighs under her skirt again, making her breathless. “What your tattoo says.”
He pulled back and grinned devilishly. “Well it’s true, princess. I’m thankful every damn time.”
The way he said it had her head falling back as she laughed. He really did make giving thanks dirty. Bless his heart.
When she lifted her head again and saw his eyes intense with emotion, her heart rolled slowly, helplessly. She was so in love with him it was scary. Completely terrifying.
It must have shown in her eyes because Peter took one look at her and took her mouth in a brutal, passionate kiss. “Fuck, Leslie.” Then he was pushing at her skirts, hiking them up around her waist. He covered himself with a condom in record time and gripped her hips. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice harsh with sexual desire and something more. Something unfiltered from somewhere deep inside him.
It made her wild.
The plump head of his penis pushed into her as she looked into his blue eyes totally glazed with passion, and he growled possessively. “
Yes, his.
“Say it.” He panted and pushed into her a little more, making her moan with need.
Because she knew in her heart he was right, Leslie wrapped her legs around his waist and dove her hands into his hair, fisting there. “Yours, Peter.”
His whole body shuddered and he thrust into her deep on a ragged groan. “Mine,” he said again, this time softly. “Always mine.”
Peter pulled her tight into his embrace, his powerful arms wrapping around her, holding her close as he thrust into her slowly, deeply. Leslie clung to him, her nails digging into his back as the hot circumference of him filled her up and took her right to the edge. The orgasm tore through her with such force that she cried out, tears stinging her eyes, her brain fried.
“I love you, Peter!” she said on a gasp, unaware of what she was saying as she began to float back down, heart pounding and body tingling.
He went still.
“Christ.” He breathed the word like it was a prayer. Then his arms tightened around her almost painfully and he was driving into her, over and over, his breath coming heavy until he thrust into her so deep she could feel him against her womb, and he came forcefully, explosively, calling her name, “Leslie!”
They clung to each other, panting and unmoving, riding on the wave of afterglow and endorphins until they heard a voice from outside the door say loudly, “Shit, where’s the bathroom, man? I don’t wanna miss the apple- bobbing contest that’s about to start. There’s some hot chicks out there who are gonna get nice and wet.”
Reality came crashing back with zero mercy. Suddenly apprehensive, Leslie stole a peek around Peter’s shoulder to the clock on the wall, blew a frizzy strand of hair out of her face, and saw the truth.
11:52 P.M.
Her rosy afterglow went
So much for getting her life back.
PETER FELT LESLIE tense around him and was hit with disappointment. He wasn’t ready to let her go yet. The way her lush body was wrapped all around him felt so good. So very, very good.
In fact, there wasn’t a part of the woman that didn’t feel absolutely amazing. And after all these years, all the regret and humiliation, he had finally sorted it out with Leslie. Now he knew what he had missed out on. Every fantasy, every daydream he’d had of her hadn’t come close to comparing with the reality.
The reality of Leslie was fucking amazing.
“Well played, Kowalskin.”
He thought so too. He’d always been good at catch. But it sounded suspiciously like Leslie wasn’t as thrilled about his skills as he was. Peter pulled back some to get a good look at her, and what he saw had his insides going cold.
Her face was pale and her eyes were bitter. Gone was the passionate woman from a few minutes ago. Now he was looking at a whole lot of angry. Though his brain was in a temporary state of hormone-induced euphoria, he could still tell that something was very wrong with Leslie.
Shit. After all the build-up and anticipation, was she disappointed in his performance?
“I need some air.” Her hands were flat against his chest and she gave a sound push. Letting her go, he skimmed his fingertips down her thigh as she disengaged, needing the feel of her silky skin one more time.
“What’s the deal, princess?” She’d just said she loved him. He was still reeling from it. And now she wanted space. What the hell? She couldn’t just turn off like that. It wasn’t fair.
She practically jumped off the desk and went about straightening her clothing, yanking at the fabric, the whole time scowling and not looking at him. Considering he’d just had the best sex of his entire life with the woman of his dreams, it was a bit deflating to see her in this state. Made him want to have a go at her again and not stop until all she was able to do was lie there and smile.
Because she sure wasn’t smiling now. “Don’t play dumb, Kowalskin. It isn’t becoming.”
Suddenly frustrated, Peter raked his hands through his hair and began redressing. “I don’t know what the hell you’re so upset about.”
She stopped what she was doing and leveled him with a hard stare. “You really don’t know?” The way she said it made it sound like an accusation, not a question.
It was damn irritating. “No, Leslie,” he drawled. “I really don’t know.” How could he? From where he was
