Part 16 (2/2)
”Sounds what?” he asked, prompting her.
”You probably think it sounds too hard, since I'm in Paris and you're in Las Vegas, and that's how it was before,” she said, worried that they were facing the same obstacles, those very ones that had splintered them years before.
That s.e.xy smile returned, tugging at his lips as he shook his head. ”No. It's not crazy at all. We're not the same as we were before. The distance-it's not as daunting. We have the means to deal with it.”
She nodded. ”Yes, we do. And all I know is that I don't want this to end.”
He pulled her closer, held her tighter. ”That's enough for me to fly across an ocean for you.”
He dusted her lips with his-a soft, sweet kiss that was both gentle and thrilling at once. On his lips, she swore she could taste his happiness, and she kissed more, taking some of it for herself.
They chatted in bed, talking about friends and family, work and music, photographs and security. Every now and then a small shard of latent guilt stabbed at her, but she pushed past her nagging worries. She wanted to savor these moments with Michael. This time with him was the sweetest thing she'd experienced in a while, and she'd rather revel in it, especially after so long of having felt the opposite.
Soon enough, their lips found each other again, and they kissed, slow and lazy, the kind of kiss that made her wetter and him harder, that led to fingers slipped between legs and dirty words like, Get on your hands and knees. I want to take you that way.
She didn't need to be asked twice. She wanted to be f.u.c.ked that way by him, with her palms flat against the navy blue comforter, her knees sinking down, and her a.s.s in the air. Michael ran a hand down her back, inch by torturously slow inch, each touch making her wriggle and writhe.
”Mmm,” he murmured, his big palm tracing her flesh, pus.h.i.+ng her spine low, forcing her to raise her a.s.s higher. ”Look at you. Look at my Annalise. So f.u.c.king wet. So f.u.c.king hot. So needy for me.”
Like a sparkler igniting, those dirty words set off a fresh wave of desire. Heat pooled between her legs as she lowered herself to her elbows, her breath coming fast. ”I do need you. I need you in me, Michael.”
He dragged his fingers through her s.e.x, and she moaned, closing her eyes, giving in to the fevered rush in her body, surrendering to her desire to be f.u.c.ked.
Sheets rustled behind her as he moved, straightened up on his knees, and positioned himself. When he rubbed the head of his c.o.c.k against her p.u.s.s.y, a wild cry ripped from her throat. Mon dieu, who was this woman in her body? Inhabiting her, taking over her mind, using her mouth to speak such dirty things? ”f.u.c.k me. Hard. Take me. I'm yours.”
He took, f.u.c.king her as she'd never experienced before-rough and beautifully cruel, fingers digging into flesh, hands gripping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pinching her nipples, teeth on her shoulders. Deeply buried inside her, he f.u.c.ked her savagely. She moved with him, moaned with him, slammed her pelvis back on his c.o.c.k, letting him know that the more he filled her, the hungrier she was. Sliding a hand up her backbone, he grabbed her hair, wrapping it around his fist. She gasped and her noise turned into a long, animalistic cry as he yanked.
”Rougher. Harder,” she bit out.
She wanted to be bruised, to feel used, to be f.u.c.ked so hard she felt him for days. Michael Sloan was more than willing to give her all of himself, to plunder her body with his c.o.c.k, to take her mercilessly until her hands grappled at the sheets, clutching and twisting as pleasure spiked then slammed into her.
A shattering.
No warning.
Just a rapturous crash as her climax rattled her body, jarring her bones. It shocked her, the power of this kind of o.r.g.a.s.m. It had a magnitude measurement as it thundered through her. With a final thrust, growling her name in her ear, he came. She'd never felt anyone go so deep inside her. Never felt so in tune with her body.
But it was more than that. She'd never felt this kind of physical connection. Raw and hungry.
And boundless, too.
That may have been what surprised her the most-this endlessness of the pleasure. She supposed that was how any sort of new pa.s.sion felt. Infatuation was the most powerful magician in any land, and it could trick you into thinking something was true and real. But there, in the dark of the night, in the middle of a city of millions, tucked away in a hotel room, she believed in its promise.
She believed in fate, too.
In second chances.
As he spooned her, brus.h.i.+ng soft kisses against the back of her neck, tonight seemed precisely why she'd landed a job in Vegas, exactly why she'd said yes to the New York gig. As if the cruel mistress of circ.u.mstances who had toyed with them and yanked them apart when they were younger was working in their favor now.
Bringing them back together in a whole new way.
After that rough, punis.h.i.+ng s.e.x that bruised her hips, and made her sore everywhere, she was sure she'd fall asleep sated. She did. For a bit.
But sometime in the middle of the night, she woke. Not with a start, but with a slow, unhurried s.h.i.+ft of her hips. His erection grazed her backside, and she wiggled her rear against him.
”Mmm. That's a nice way to wake up,” he said, all rough from sleep.
”It's not even time to get out of bed yet,” she whispered, rocking into him.
”You mean it's time for more of this,” he said, sliding his hand along the back of her thigh and s.h.i.+fting her knee to make room.
”Yes. Please. You've made me insatiable.”
”Good, I like you that way. Hungry for me,” he said against her neck as he eased inside her. He made it a lazy and luxurious coming together, as if they were two lovers who'd spent countless nights entwined. For a moment, she wondered if either of them could come like this, with this unhurried kind of love-making, but the question turned to dust as the warm pleasure in her hummed, tension coiling, and she climbed to the edge once again. She cried out his name, and then out of nowhere, a sob escaped her lips, mingling with her noises, obscuring the evidence of her pain.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She swallowed it quickly. Judging from the way he grunted and shoved deep in her, he didn't notice. A storm of emotions swelled, gripping her chest, squeezing her heart like an invisible hand trying to choke up the mess brewing inside-guilt, joy, sadness, elation.
She inhaled sharply, willing the air to spread through her lungs, to free her from this specter of remorse. She didn't want to feel it. There was nothing wrong with having s.e.x. Nothing at all.
Yet her heart was fracturing at the same time as it was st.i.tched back together. s.e.x with Michael was both wondrous and bittersweet.
And she understood precisely why she felt so f.u.c.king good, and so f.u.c.king awful at the same time.
”It's so good with you, Annalise,” he said a minute later.
”I know. It is. It's so good.”
It was unlike anything she'd ever felt. It was better. It was the best.
That was the problem.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.
The beautiful blonde stretched on her belly on the white duvet-heels kicking in the air, lips red and pouty, as seductive as she was real. Even when she was posing, there was nothing forced about her client's beauty.
Casey Sullivan had one of the best smiles Annalise had ever photographed. Fresh-faced and all-American, she possessed a gorgeous grin. The woman also knew how to give ”come f.u.c.k me” eyes to the camera.
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