Goddamnit.
“Becca, you are going to make me come in about ten seconds,” he said, awe mixed with a bit of embarrassment in his voice. Jesus, she was really fucking good at this.
She pulled off long enough to grin up at him. “Good. I want you to come.”
Swirling wetness over his head, she lashed him with her tongue before sinking down once more. This time, the pace wasn’t slow, but the fast swallow and suck was every bit as torturous. Maybe more. Because his body was barreling toward a cliff’s edge he had no hope of avoiding. Her silky hair fanned over his lap and he tangled his fingers in it, guiding her head as she devoured him. Heat and pressure and mind-blowing sensation congregated in his balls, hung there until he was holding his breath.
“Christ, Becca, I’m coming. I’m . . . fucking . . . coming.” Dizziness tossed his conscious mind to the corner and he groaned and thrust into her mouth as she sucked down everything that he gave her. The orgasm drained the tension out of his muscles until he was boneless against the leather. Except, miraculously, he was still so goddamned hard she could take his head to the back of her throat when she indulged in a few more lingering sucks.
His. Fucking. Turn.
Without a single word of warning, he pulled her off him, tugged the denim over his cock, and flipped her into his arms. Her swollen lips and flushed face and surprised laugh ricocheted right down his spine and ensured his erection didn’t deflate by even an inch. He hauled them off the couch, refusing to acknowledge his protesting back, then stalked down the hall, kicking the office door shut with his boot.
In his room, he came to the bottom corner of his big bed and tossed her to the mattress in the darkness. She screamed and laughed as she bounced against the messy covers, still rumpled from how they’d left them this morning.
Damnit all to hell, but that felt like a million years ago. He removed the gun from the back of his jeans and settled it on the nightstand as he turned on the lamp. Her eyes found him immediately, and she smiled.
God, she was so damn pretty. And the way she looked at him sent him soaring.
Sometimes you plodded through life with nothing changing from one month to the next no matter how much you yearned for a revolution to erupt beneath your feet. And sometimes your whole world imploded and rebuilt itself in a matter of seconds. In the past, those instantaneous changes had almost always ignited with pain and loss.
Not this time.
This time, a woman had performed the simple act of walking through his front door. She’d sent his life spinning off on a whole new trajectory of rebuilding. Reclaiming. Maybe, even love.
Returning to the foot of the bed, Nick found that Becca’s gaze was equal parts humor and heat. Hands behind her calves, he hauled her toward the edge of the bed, undid the fly of her jeans, and tugged them over her hips. She lifted her legs, helping him remove them, and a twinge of pain shot through his back again as he yanked them off.
Rixey didn’t mind the discomfort. It was a drop in the bucket compared to the soul-deep pleasure he felt, and, anyway, he was used to it. But it reminded him that she’d been injured. “Shit, Becca. Did I hurt your side when I threw you?” He leaned his upper body between her thighs until he hovered over her, reminding him of the fast frenzy of this morning.
She stroked his cheek with soft fingertips. “No. It’s not too bad. But thank you for thinking to ask.”
Relief flowed through him, drawing him to taste her. He leaned into her slowly and kissed her. And, damn, he could still taste himself in her mouth. It was a fucking rush, knowing she’d pleasured him so freely, so selflessly. His hand skimmed up her belly, tugging at the cotton and caressing her breasts. She arched into his touch, allowing him to pull her shirt to her throat. “Lift,” he whispered, and then he removed it altogether. A flick of his hand behind her back bared her completely to his gaze.
Jesus, she was beautiful, soft perfection. Natural and real. With lots of curves and peaks and valleys and hidden places for him to explore. Her hands fisted in his shirt and dragged it up his stomach. With one hand, he reached over his shoulder and hauled it over his head.
And then he was on her. Kissing her mouth in urgent, aggressive twists of lips and tongue. Sucking and nipping down her neck and collarbones to her breasts. Teasing and tormenting her nipples. Becca writhed under him, her fingers plowing into his hair and trying to grip the short length. He’d actually worn it longer in Afghanistan to blend in with the locals, so he wasn’t opposed to growing it out again just so she could really pull it. The biting tugs against his scalp fucking turned him on because each one reflected her pleasure, her desire, her slow slide into abandon.
Easing onto his knees, he kissed her stomach, her hip bones, the inside of one soft thigh. “Put some pillows under your head, sunshine, because I want to watch your face.” He waited for her to comply, a small, sexy smile curving her lips, and then he slid his hands under her thighs, guided her knees onto his shoulders, and stroked his tongue through her wetness. Her sweet taste and her ecstatic cry rocketed down his body, turning his cock to steel and making him yearn to get in her. But not before he drank in her pleasure.
Alternating flicks and circles with flat sweeps of his tongue, he explored and tormented her. He penetrated her with one finger, then two, remembering what she’d seemed to like this morning and drawing out her arousal until her hips bucked and thrashed and her hands fisted in the sheets. He strapped her down with his forearm and sucked her clit into his mouth.
He’d thought her beautiful before, but her face was a total stunner when she wore that mask of pleasure—eyes hooded, almost like she was drowsy, mouth open, and lips wet.
“Nick,” she rasped. “Don’t stop.”
He smiled against her, stopping the furthest thing from his mind, and redoubled his efforts, licking, sucking, fucking her with his fingers. A long, low whine ripped from her throat as her muscles tightened around him, and then she was holding her breath, shaking, coming on his hand and mouth. The moment her body stilled, he withdrew, shoved down his jeans, and then cursed a blue storm at the laces on his boots.
She laughed, and he pretended to scowl at her as he finally got his feet free.
“Think that’s funny, do ya?”
Grinning, she nodded. “I like you eager.”
He threw the jeans and boxers somewhere behind him. “Eager’s my middle fucking name when I’m around you.” Nick retrieved a condom from the box he’d opened only this morning. Standing between her spread thighs, he rolled it on. “You are going to feel so good,” he said, looking her over and loving every damn thing he saw. The tousled blond hair, the flush on her face, and the beautiful feminine curves all called to him, but it was the adoration in her eyes that most got to him. It sent him flying to the heavens with a feeling of completion, and it threatened to splinter him to pieces because he’d never fully deserve it.
A moment of doubt flickered through him, stilling his hand on his cock and rooting his feet to the floor. Goddamnit.
Becca shoved the pillows further up the bed and scooted backward, her hands reaching out to him. “Come be with me,” she said.
Like she knew. She knew he’d gotten stuck there at the edge of the bed.
Her words drew him forward until his knees were between her thighs and his hands were braced on either side of her head. “Are you sure about this?”
She combed her fingers through the sides of his hair. “Completely.”
Thank God. “Good, because I want you so damn much.” He kissed her, took his cock in hand, and guided himself to her entrance. “Aw, damn,” he groaned as he pushed inside. Hot. Tight. Wet. He pulled out and sank back in, gaze on her face, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open as he rocked in and out of her core.