‘Bed,’ he said, moving towards the hallway that led to the back of the cottage and the bedrooms.
She didn’t want to wait that long, and it was obvious he was struggling to maintain his course, as they stopped a number of times on the way to the main bedroom, her back pushed up to the wall as they kissed and touched and they ground themselves against each other. Her breath was coming in pants as they bumped their way through the bedroom door, the bed a metre away, and began to push the shirt he wore over his t-shirt off his shoulders. He let go of her long enough for her to push it down his arms and off and away, but before she could get to his t-shirt too, he was urging her to lift her arms so he could pull her t-shirt off.
‘God, Prita,’ he said, looking his fill when she was standing before him in shorts and a bra. They’d not turned the light on, but the moonlight coming through the window was so bright she could see him so clearly, the way his hand trembled as he reached out to touch her. ‘So beautiful.’ His gaze lifted to hers and then back down to her breasts. ‘I want to see. I want to taste.’
‘Yours first,’ she said, fingers teasing along the skin of his stomach as she took the hem of his t-shirt and lifted it up. He groaned and shuddered, skin visibly twitching as her knuckles brushed over him, moving slow, revealing his gorgeous stomach and chest inch by slow inch.
‘You’re killing me.’
She smiled and kept moving slowly, making sure to keep the contact with his skin as she went, even as she lifted the t-shirt up and off his raised arms. Oh, she enjoyed his reaction, the moans and shivers and trembling.
When she finally dropped his t-shirt to the floor, they were both panting, their skin glistening with perspiration.
Together, they lifted a hand and reached out to touch the other. She wasn’t sure if the moan that left her lips was because of the feel of him cupping her breast through her bra, the knuckles of his other hand grazing up her belly, or because of the way he felt under her hand, his nipple pebbled so hard, the crisp softness of his chest hair, the light scattering of it doing nothing to cover up the hardness of muscle beneath, the arrow of it leading down his rock hard abs making her want to do nothing more than follow the path it indicated.
So she did. Fingers caught on the edge of his jeans, slipped under. He moaned and rocked towards her, his fingers pressing into the flesh of her breasts just enough to make her moan and rock towards him.
‘Prita.’
‘Off.’
The jeans came off much faster than the t-shirt—Flynn took care of it himself this time—and then he was standing there wearing only his knee bandage and dark red jocks. His erection jutted out, begging for her touch.
She wrapped her fingers around the length of him, the breadth of him more than her fingers could circumnavigate. She ran them down and then back up, glorying in his sounds of pleasure, the jerking of his penis, the trembling of his legs and stomach. She looked up and her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at her, god, how he was looking at her. She was pierced through by that look. Heat and need and a desire so strong it made everything before it go up in flames.
‘Now,’ he said, reaching for the button on her shorts.
He had her shorts and panties off her before she could blink and her bra followed, then they were on the bed and his jocks were gone. He went to move on top, but she wouldn’t let him—worried about the pressure on his knee—so flipped him over and settled above him. His hands fell to her hips and he pushed up as she slid down and in one glorious glide, he was inside her, buried so deep, she thought he could go no further. She arched her back, their combined moans mingling as they froze in that moment of joining.
Then he moved and she moved and incredibly, he went even deeper with each stroke and she was trembling and running her hands over his chest, his shoulders, into his hair, lifting his head from where he had been suckling the base of her throat and brought his mouth back to hers.
Hard, open mouthed kisses, breath and tongue and taste and wet.
Yes.
Yes.
He moved harder, faster and she moved with him, hands sliding over slick skin. He reached down and slid a finger between them, finding that spot that, oh! Oh! Sex had never felt like this. Ever. This was … it was …
She cried out as she came in a cascade of pulsing muscles and trembling nerves. He followed her, lifting her higher and then they fell and fell and all was darkness and sensation and sound.
She dropped on top of him, the weight of his arms around her, and she’d never felt so whole before.
It should have frightened the hell out of her, but astonishingly, it didn’t.
Chapter 20
Flynn woke sometime later, the feel of Prita a warm weight in his arms. The room was dark. They’d been too desperate for each other when they came in here to stop and think of something as mundane as turning on a light, and after the explosion of that astonishing release, he’d been in no state to think let alone move. He’d actually fallen asleep before he’d had much of a chance to think about anything at all except, wow. But now he wished they’d turned the light on because he wanted to see her. He’d barely had a chance that first time to savour her, to marvel at the light that glowed golden on her tawny skin when they’d been in the lounge room, to see the dark brown
