Page 24 of Against the Clock
“Yeah, and a good one, too.” He pulls his boxer-briefs off, and whatever tart remark I was about to make dies on my lips.
“Damn.” All I can do is stare. He’s a big guy, easily over six-foot-two, so I don’t know why the huge dick is a surprise.
“You can take it,” he tells me.
My toes curl and I reach for him.
“Daniel.” His name’s question and the answer all at once, and he responds with another kiss. It’s tender, and sweet, and I sink into it, closing my eyes and letting him guide me. Giving up thinking, giving up any reservations I have.
He made me feel good. He put me first.
We kiss like that until I lose track of time, until it turns to something fiercer, something fast and needy, until my breath’s hard to find again.
Daniel reaches between us, his fingers rubbing through my wetness again. “Good,” he says. “You’re so wet for me.”
One hand continues to work me with expert strokes around my clit even as he reaches into a nightstand, pulling out a gold-wrapped condom. I’m hardly aware of it as I work my hips into his fingers, chasing the orgasm starting to build again.
I hear the condom tear, and when my eyes open, Daniel’s staring down at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen.
“Tell me you want me,” he says. “Tell me you want this.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I say, no hesitation at all.
He grins down at me, but the softness in his eyes fades at my blunt words. “Say please.”
“Please fuck me,” I tell him.
“Then turn around and hold on to the headboard,” he grits out.
Oh, yep. This is about to be a real fun time. As if I could say no to that.
I do as he says and I watch him over one shoulder as his cock rubs against my wetness. Groaning, I thrust my hips back, half-feral with need. A small part of me is still saying this is a mistake, that I’m going to regret this, but I shut that down.
This is going to feel so good.
It’s going to be worth it.
CHAPTER 11
DANIEL
Kelsey is the most fucking beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. A slight sheen of sweat glistens all over her curvy, deliciously responsive body, so sweet and pretty it makes my heart ache.
When she tells me to fuck her, please, it snaps something inside me. The internal vows I made to romance her, to woo her, to charm her into bed, all shrivel up.
If she wants to be fucked, I’ll fuck her. I’ll fuck her so good she never wants anyone but me again.
Her fingers curl over the top of my headboard and I drag my dick through her wetness, the sensation tugging a groan through my throat. She’s so fucking wet. For me. I did this.
She moans too and looks over her shoulder at me with lust-glazed eyes, her hair drying in unruly waves that make me want to wrap my hands around it.
“Is this what you want?” I ask her, wanting to stretch this moment out. Wanting to give her what she wants.
Wanting to take her slowly, sweetly, make love to her. It’s stupid and sentimental, but that’s what I want. Still—what I want doesn’t matter. What she wants matters. It’ll feel so damned good either way.
“Yes,” she breathes, and that’s all I need.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, I hold her still, plunging deep into her. Kelsey cries out, clenching around me, and I grit my teeth, trying to pace myself. Sweat trickles down my temple and I still myself, knowing if I start thrusting into her now, I’ll come too soon.