“So you’re feeling me,” I noted.
“Not yet,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes.
When I rolled them back I noted his grin got bigger.
It was then, I heard sirens.
* * * * *
Oh God.
I was close.
I threw my head back and breathed, “Ren.”
My man, on his knees behind me, pulled out.
On my hands and knees in the bed, I looked at him over my shoulder and whispered, “No, baby.”
“On your back. Knees up. Spread,” he ordered, his voice thick.
Okay, I could do that.
So I did it.
He covered me and not a second later slammed into me.
My back arched and I wound my arms around him.
“Every guy watchin’ you move onstage at Smithie’s wants his dick right here,” he growled, thrusting fast, hard, deep and I focused on him (barely).
He got off on that.
Like, seriously.
Suddenly, I did too.
He drove in, then ground in, his mouth coming to mine. “But this is all mine.”
It so totally was.
“Yes,” I panted.
Inexplicably (and tragically), he pulled out again and moved down my body. His hand went between my legs, his finger working me, his mouth went to my breast and he sucked my nipple deep.
That was all good, way good.
But I needed him inside.
“Honey, please,” I begged.
He rolled my nipple with his tongue, his finger rolled between my legs and my back left the bed.
He blew on my nipple then whispered, “My woman kicks ass at everything.”
Oh God.
He moved his beautiful torture to my other nipple and after the tongue roll and blowing, I breathed, “Ren.”
His mouth came back to mine, but his hand continued to work between my legs when he encouraged, “That’s it.”
I slid my fingers in his hair. “Need you.”
“You’ll get me. Gonna bury myself inside you when I make you burn.”
I was already burning.
“Need you,” I repeated.
His hand between my legs moved so his fingers thrust inside and his thumb hit the spot.
That wasn’t what I wanted, but I’d work with it. And I did, my hips moving desperately with his hand.
“Fuckin’ fuck me, so goddamned hot.”
“Ren.”
