Another chuckle. “Not yet. I plan to make this last a while.” He paused. “In fact, I think it’s time to change flavors.”
Before she could react, he withdrew and flipped her on her stomach. He wedged a pillow under her hips, and he was back inside her. His hand slid to her front, and his fingers expertly circled and teased while his hips began moving in time, making her groan and writhe and see stars exploding in her head.
The slow, steady tempo brought him deeper inside her. Pleasure so intense it was almost painful coursed through her bloodstream like a river of fire, drenching her in sensations she’d never felt before.
He kept up the unhurried, steady strokes, driving her out of her mind. But it was his words that pushed her higher into the stratosphere.
“I want to fuck you into next week, Lily. I want to fuck you till you can’t walk without thinking of me buried inside you.”
The power was all his. She’d relinquished it, a spellbound captive of his words, his lips, his fingers, his glorious cock. This quiet, unassuming man strummed her body like a damn guitar, plucking and coaxing at will. She longed to explode, implode, disintegrate around him.
He shifted behind her, flattening his palm against her belly to hold her in place while his hips picked up speed. His free hand cupped her breast, pinching her nipple. He dropped his head to the base of her neck, sank his teeth into her flesh, and sucked her skin hard.
Shy he was not.
Mind splintering into a million fragments, she babbled incoherently as she was lifted into soul-bending euphoria. Her unstoppable moans transformed into hoarse shouts that seemed to spur him on, and he slammed into her over and over.
As he rode her harder and harder, the pillow flattened, and her knees slid out. He collapsed on top of her and stopped mid-stroke. Chest heaving, he pulled out. An icy ache rushed into the hollow he no longer filled.
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What are you doing?” she gasped.
Grabbing her ankles, he turned her over. Cold air raced over her, puckering her skin, turning her nipples to hard peaks. He stretched out above her, bracing his weight on his forearms, bracketing her. Panting hard, he peered down at her, his burnished eyes on the wild side. Wet and steely, his cock prodded her. “What do you want me to do, Lily?”
She tugged on his shoulders to pull him to her, but he didn’t budge.
His eyes remained fixed on hers. “Tell me what you want, Lily.”
She exhaled a frustrated growl.
He dropped his head to her breast, drawing it into his mouth, rolling her nipple between his teeth before he bit down lightly.
“Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want me to do to you,” he murmured.
Licking, sucking, devouring, there was nothing gentle about his mouth’s assault, and it made her want to climb him, to impale herself on him. God, so much!
He blew on her wet nipple, stiffening it until it throbbed. “Talk to me, Lily.” He moved to her other breast, subjecting it to the same treatment.
Her voice came out strained, small, and reedy. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Tell me again. Louder this time. Make me believe you. Use that beautiful voice of yours.” His body still a hard plank suspended above her, his head bobbed as he clamped down and gave her nipple a hard flick of his tongue. His rigid cock prodded her stomach.
“Gage,” she gasped, “I want to feel you inside me, filling me. I want you to fuck me hard.”
Raising his head, he looked deep into her eyes with blazing heat. He grabbed her hips and tossed her legs over his shoulders, his cock poised at her entrance.
He drove into her slowly at first, stroking deeper, deeper, over and over, his breathing growing labored, his guttural grunts pitching louder as he picked up speed. He squeezed his eyes shut as pleasure played over his chiseled features and built in intensity, as though he were ready to detonate inside. Captured in his grip, helpless to match his rocketing thrusts, she held on while he pounded relentlessly.
And, God help her, she loved it!
This time when she crashed into the abyss, he followed, hissing her name and praising God, Christ, and all the saints as he went.
Chapter 20
What’s Passed Isn’t Past
Gage came to, realizing he had not, in fact, died. Lily lay beside him, her wild hair strewn over the comforter, her eyes on the ceiling, her creamy breasts rising and falling as she caught her breath. Her face, throat, and chest were flushed a beautiful shade of deep pink. A wave of satisfaction washed over him knowing he was the reason she looked that way.
Apparently, he’d rolled off of her, though he couldn’t remember doing it. Couldn’t remember a whole lot of anything except the bombs bursting in air and the in-fucking-credible feeling of being inside her.
Shit. Had he gone too far? What the hell had gotten into him?
Lily. Getting into her had gotten into him.
He glanced over at her, a little worried about the expression he’d find. Her bright blue eyes were on him. Breaking into a soft smile, she ran the back of her hand along his beard. Okay. She’s smiling. That’s a good thing. He covered her hand with his, pulled it to his mouth, and kissed it. Unbidden, I love you popped into his head. Whoa! A little soon. Oh yeah. He’d need to keep that to himself.
“Hi, beautiful,” he rasped instead.
“Hi, yourself.” She raised up on an elbow, facing him, giving him a full view of her forever curves—a view he could get used to seeing every day.
He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “That was … that was …”
She arched an eyebrow.
“Not vanilla,” he laughed.
“And not July,” she countered.
He wasn’t
