Dawn Atkins - Simply Sex

“I don’t care.” Wreck the place…whatever. The part of her that was careful and thorough and efficient and thrifty seemed to have drowned in desire. She fell to the bed and dragged Cole with her, yanking at his shirt, while he massaged her breasts and she squirmed under him.

In the end he had to unbutton his shirt for her. He tossed it into the darkness, tipping something over, but she didn’t care. She had what she wanted—his naked chest hot against her breasts. He kissed her mouth again in that slow building way, then went lower to run his tongue across a sensitive nipple, one blessed bump at a time.

Oh, oh. Wow. She wanted more of this. More sucking, more licking, more kissing, more nudity. There were still so many clothes, she realized in despair. They’d kicked off their shoes in the earlier madness, but Cole still wore pants and they had her skirt, hose and panties to contend with.

Cole lifted her torso to get at her zipper, but it jammed. This was the one that got stuck.

“Just rip it,” she gasped. “It’s broken.” Well, nearly. And it would be after this.

He looked at her, dark eyes lust hazy, making certain she meant what she’d said.

“Do it. Really.” The faulty fastener stood between them and blessed nakedness.

Holding her gaze, Cole jerked the skirt with both hands. The zipper gave with a dangerous-sounding rip.

“Good,” she said and his eyes flared.

He yanked her skirt off her body, dragging her stockings, too, deliberately using force. He was stripping her. As if nothing could keep his hands off her—not a polyester sure-lock zipper, not Hanes Her Way control top panty hose, not her satin panties, which would have to be cut off, but she did not want him away from her body for a single second. Even though she knew exactly where the scissors were.

He jerked her panties down—almost as satisfying as if he’d shredded them with his teeth—then studied her sex, slowing everything down.

She trembled under his attention, the pleasure in his gaze conquering her anxiety about the way her stomach retained fluid and tended to look bloated, no matter how many crunches she did.

He ran his fingers down her stomach and brushed her pubic hair, setting her newly on fire. She had to touch him, too, but he still wore pants. She went at his belt. He helped her and after a few fumbling seconds, she gripped the lovely length of him.

He moved into her palm, solid velvet. “That’s good,” he said, his dark eyes host to an electrical storm, lightning strikes of lust crackling in their depths.

He slid a finger gently into her cleft, along the side of her clitoris with perfect indirect pressure. Men sometimes rushed to get there and startled the poor thing. He coaxed her higher and tighter and she squirmed under him.

“I want you inside me,” she whispered, longing for that full, tight, glorious sensation.

“I want you on top so I can watch,” he said.

“Sounds like a plan.” She loved how easily they’d declared what they wanted. She rose on her knees, aware of his anticipation, the appreciation in his gaze, and guided him into her slick interior.

He went deliciously deep, filling her to her cervix and she moaned, a long, desperate sound that didn’t even embarrass her. Instead, she did a slow twist on his cock, pushed forward, then back, in an erotic rhythm that made him close his eyes with a groan.

When he opened them, they were on fire. He reached for her breasts, so she bent forward to give them to him. “You’re so beautiful…you feel so…good.” He was fighting to speak, she could tell, struggling to reassure her, which was thoughtful.

When he sucked a nipple into his mouth, she could only make noises and half words, riding his shaft with frantic jerks. The sensation was exquisite—the tight, wet pull on her nipples, the full friction of his shaft moving in and out, brushing her swollen clitoris. It was wet and wiggly and wonderful and almost more pleasure than she could stand.

He gripped her hips and guided her faster, moaning, his eyes rolling back, though he was trying to maintain eye contact with her. She loved that she’d made him crazy, so that he jammed into her with all his might, banged her cervix with sweet force, dug into her hips with his fingers.

She felt him tighten like a stallion collecting its power for a jump, so she knew he was about to come. She increased her pace, wanting to push him over the edge, wanting the power of forcing him to climax.

But he stilled and looked up at her, holding her with his gaze while he deliberately pressed his thumb to her button.

“Oh, oh, oh.” She stilled, then rose high and jammed downward, pierced by a new heat. She pivoted wildly on him and her climax tightened, ticked, ready to explode. Cole was in charge and she was surprised she didn’t mind at all. In fact, it was a relief to just let go and let him do her, stroke her, push her over the edge.

She opened her eyes to look at him, to let him know how grateful she was, how surprised.

“Kylie.” The way he said her name made something inside her give way. Like a breath she’d held too long, a muscle she’d tensed to the point of pain.

Her climax arrived, distracting her, and she cried out, rocking helplessly, lost in sensation, in release, in joy. At the same moment, he pulsed into her. Their climaxes collided like storm-brewed whitecaps that collapsed into a rolling wave that swelled, then lapsed into ebbing ripples of pure bliss.

Kylie fell onto Cole’s chest, panting for air. “That was incredible,” she said, feeling his heart pound against her ear.

“Incredible? Is that all?” His voice was husky with amazement and humor. “I think we violated the laws of physics in there somewhere.”

“I think you’re right.” She snuggled into his chest, slid a leg between his, their mingled fluids making their bodies deliciously slippery.

He wrapped his arms across her back in a soft caress. She wiggled in, eager for a few moments of rest. “I really needed that,” she said, the proof in the deep, pleasurable peace she felt. “I’ve been under a lot of strain lately.”

“I can imagine. With closing out your business.”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever…” Had sex this good. Felt this comfortable with a man. Something about Cole tempted her to blurt intimate truths. She remembered how he’d said her name, the look on his face. I’ve found you, Kylie. You belong to me. We belong to each other. Worse, she’d liked it. She’d wanted to rest in his arms, let go of something. What? What was she holding on to so tightly?

“You don’t know that you’ve ever…?” Cole repeated. She realized his fingers, which had been tickling her skin, had stilled.

“…been so ready,” she finished lamely. She’d been thinking crazy thoughts.

He released a breath. Was he disappointed? Then he chuckled. “Then let me say how lucky I feel to have been handy.” He shifted so he lay on his side looking at her. She did the same. “That was impressive for a first time.”

“It was, wasn’t it? We were in perfect synch.” It was so startling she almost felt like she’d dreamed it.

Feelings crossed his face like wind-blown clouds. You amaze me. I want you again. What’s going on here?

She felt the same. And it scared her.

Cole’s lips moved, about to say something too personal, she’d bet.

Please don’t ruin this. We had a deal, she thought.

“I should let you get some sleep,” he said matter-of-factly, relieving her of that worry. He shifted as if to get up.

She had to grin. She’d used that line herself to escape to her own bed. “Don’t rush off on my account, Cole. We could go again in a bit.”

She watched the idea register. That would be great. Followed quickly by, Better not. “I promised you just a couple of hours,” he said and kissed her before leaning across her to squint at her clock. “One-thirty. You can be asleep by two, and get five hours of sleep before seven.”