She plays with me for another minute, her nimble fingers exploring my shaft. A rumble works its way up my chest from the soft, delicious friction of her hands. When she spreads a bead of liquid over the head of my dick, I can’t take it any longer.
“Need to be inside you,” I say, and I run my hands along her thighs, spreading her legs wider for me. Reaching for the condom, I gently tear open the wrapper and slide it on.
With my hips, I nudge her legs more open, and slide the head against her wetness. Her eyes roll back, and she rocks against me, seeking me out.
I loop my fingers into her hair, cupping the back of her head. “Put it in,” I tell her, in a rough voice that leaves no room for argument.
Wrapping her hand around the base, she rubs the tip of my dick against her pussy, then slides it inside, inch by inch. I let her lead. Let her take me as she can. At one point, she inhales sharply.
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head, lets go of my dick, and wraps her arms around my neck. “No. It feels so good.”
That’s my cue. I ease in the rest of the way, and then still myself when I’m inside her.
Because…hell.
Heaven.
Bliss.
This is it.
Me. Right now. This moment in time.
Her wet heat is intense. Everything, everything, everything about this feels so incredibly good.
Her fingers thread their way into my hair. I clasp her hips and start to move, giving her time to adjust. I watch her expression, the concentration in her brown eyes as she gets used to me. I follow her cues, giving slow, lingering thrusts, until she relaxes completely, letting me fill her. Her knees fall open, her mouth softens, and she nods.
Finally she locks her gaze to mine and whispers, “Fuck me.”
Two words that light up every inch of my skin.
As I fuck her, she fucks me back. I sink deeper inside and she matches me, rising up to meet me. We set a rhythm, and we are more than in synch. We mesh.
I try to take in every sensation of our first time. The flush that darkens the skin of her chest. The scent of vanilla lotion on her shoulders. Her noises, like a woman unleashed.
Her lips are swollen and parted, and they’re begging to be kissed. I dip my head to her mouth, capturing her lips as I thrust into her. We kiss—rough, hard, sloppy, mixed with sighs that tell me she’s in another world, but that world is right here with me.
I slide my hands under her thighs, and she raises her legs up higher.
“Wrap them around me,” I tell her.
She hooks her ankles around my back. “Like that?”
“Just like that,” I repeat, then close my eyes as the pressure becomes almost too much. My quads tighten, and I can only imagine how incredible it will be to come inside her. But I stave it off as she rocks up into me.
I drive harder and deeper, hitting some spot within her that trips a switch. She gasps, shuddering. She tugs me tighter with her crossed ankles, and this is it. This is how I will take her to the edge, all tight and snug around me. Beneath me. Under me. She writhes and bucks, and she starts to lose control.
“Oh God, oh God,” she moans, and her noises turn feral, echoing in my ears.
Her body is like water, like fire. She is all the elements, all woman, all vulnerable, soft, strong femininity.
She cries out—a long, low, endless, gorgeous cry. She raises her face to me, clutching her hands around my neck, hunting, and searching. In a flurry, her lips are on my ear, and she whispers, as if I needed the corroboration, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
Like a chant.
And, fuck, I was wrong if I thought this moment couldn’t get any sexier. It did. It has. Hearing her say that in my ear, hearing her tell me she’s there even though I already know, is the hottest thing ever. Because she simply had to voice it.
I join her, fucking her hard to my own release, inside her at last.
A minute later, after our breathing settles, I brace for the awkward to set in. But it doesn’t arrive. Not as I pull out, grab the condom, and toss it into the trash can. Not as I return to her and kiss her eyelids. Not as she heads to the bathroom to clean up. And not as I ask her if she wants to watch another episode when she walks back into the living room.
Still nude.
We watch Castle and Beckett attempt to solve another murder.
We return to who we were, munching on gummy bears and pouring more margaritas and guessing plot twists, until I tug her close and Charlotte Viagra kicks back in. Soon, we’re going for round two, this time on my couch, and it’s not long until I hear my new favorite song as she does that thing again where she moves her lips against my ear to tell me she’s coming.
After, we crash, and I wake up to Fido playing the piano on my head to let me know he’s hungry, Charlotte sound asleep snuggled in my arms, and the morning sun streaming across the terrace.
We’ve already broken our first rule.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I get the Bat-Signal in the early evening after two glorious days of nearly non-stop fucking, with occasional breaks for work and the bare minimum of sleep.
The alert comes via text as I’m running along the West Side Highway.
At the gym in my building. Dipstick is here. He’s staring at my ring.
I sniff opportunity, like a dog. Bradley is why she said yes to being my fake fiancée in the first place, to ward off his obnoxious gift attacks, and to exact her clever revenge. Thank god he lost her. But still, he’s scum, and now I get to rub his loss in his face.
I break right and sprint across town, dodging pedestrians, guys in suits, women in dresses, construction workers, and everyone else in New York on this Tuesday evening as I make my way to Murray Hill. Once I reach her building, my breath coming fast, sweat streaking down my chest, I tell the doorman I’m here to see Charlotte. Since I’m on her list of approved-at-all-hours visitors, he waves me in. I head to the elevator and downstairs to the gym.