Scott stared down at Marissa, his pulse rushing in his ears. Her deep red hair splayed over his sheets, her lashes lying softly against her cheeks, a satisfied smile on her lips. It wasn’t fair that she lay there looking beautiful while he felt like he’d sprinted a mile. Her soft jasmine scent mixed with the heady smell of sex, his room more like a den of sin than a place for sleep. Her gentle breathing, the glow of the crackling fire, and the taste of her frenzied kisses still on his lips. This was it, his dreams come to life.
He traced his hands over her body, admiring the curves and valleys. One day he would know the terrain, but now he could explore. He held her breasts, circling her nipples with his fingers until she sighed. There were so many ways he wanted to learn her, too many places to know where to begin. While her thighs were still spread around him, he brought one hand to her lower belly and rested the other on her pubic bone while he rubbed her clit with his thumb. She was still wet, but not wet enough. He dripped a trail of saliva on her clit, rubbing the slickness right where he wanted it.
“Did you spit on me?” She wrinkled her nose, but didn’t make any attempt to move away.
“It’s no different than when I lick you.”
“It is, though.”
He didn’t see how, but knew she wasn’t up for explaining when he pulled back her hood and centered his thumb on her pearl of nerves. Her legs quivered and she gripped the sheets. He pressed down on her lower belly as his thumb made the tiniest movements. Her pussy clenched around him as she dug her heels into the mattress and arched up, orgasm gripping her hard and deep.
His cock went from semi-hard inside of her to fully erect, the working of her inner muscles moving him like an earthquake, followed by a long stream of aftershocks. When she collapsed back against the bed and gulped for air he couldn’t help his grin. He rubbed her outer lips and she tried to push her legs together, but he was solid in between them.
“Do you need a break, sugar?”
She covered her eyes with her arm. “Yes, please.”
He withdrew slowly, the instinct to plunge back in gripping him. But she’d asked so nicely, he couldn’t help but oblige her. He made his way to the bathroom to take care of the condom, then returned to the bed with a glass of water.
She hadn’t moved at all. He rolled a nipple between his thumb and finger until she grinned and lifted her arm to look up at him. She sat up when she saw the water.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the glass, downing it in one go. “I was trying to work up the energy to get a drink.”
“It’s the least I can do.” He set the glass atop the book she’d left on his nightstand. Summer on Lovers’ Island. The couple on the cover watching the sun set over the water screamed romance. It gave him hope.
“How can you move after?” She lifted the quilt and slid underneath, resting her head on a pillow. “I just want to lie here forever.”
“I’d let you.”
“No you wouldn’t. You’ll be touching me as soon as you get in bed.”
He couldn’t deny it. And since she’d called him out, he didn’t hesitate to pull her to him as he joined her beneath the covers. He tangled his legs with hers and rested his hand on the curve of her ass. He wanted her again, right now.
She placed her hand on his chest and looked at him, her gaze growing serious. “Can I say something and you not get mad?”
“Sure.” Though it depended on what it was. If she said she’d faked all that, he’d be mad as hell.
“I don’t want you to . . .” She cleared her throat and wrinkled her nose. “I mean, I’m sure it’s no big deal, but . . .”
“Out with it, woman.”
“I don’t like to feel dirty.”
He did a double blink. “Okay, what?”
“Spitting on me.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “I like sex, obviously. But not when it’s dirty.”
“And that’s dirty to you?” Because damn, he’d thought he was being practical.
“It’s not exactly nice to spit on someone.”
“That’s not—” He shook his head and decided not to argue the point. “You know when I go down on you most of that wetness is me drooling all over your pussy, right?”
Even in the dim light he could see her blush. “It’s not that. It’s the spitting.”
“Ah, spitting, not spit. What else?”
“Nothing else.”
“You thought that would make me mad?”
“I know guys like things rougher, dirtier. But that kind of thing takes me out of it, and I feel like, well, used.” She gave the saddest of sighs. “Everybody has their thing, right? Some people like leather or tantric sex or lingerie. I like it to be, well, nice.”
He brushed his lips against her cheek and whispered, “Now I can’t stop thinking of you in lingerie.”
“I wish I’d packed some, but I thought I’d be rooming with Christa.” She tilted her head and met his gaze. “If you like things rougher, I can try, but—”
He silenced her with a finger to her lips. “Baby, I asked you to tell me if something was too much. And you did.”
“I know, but—”
“You have a great butt.” He squeezed her ass. “Sugar, I want you to tell me when it’s good, and when it’s not. Promise?”
She nodded, her pretty lips stretching into a shy smile.
“So I can still kiss you all I want?” He brushed his lips against her smile, her body melting into his.
“Yes, please.” A sweet hum followed her words.
“And lick you anywhere.” He made a path from her lips, down her neck, to those gorgeous breasts.
“Yes, please.” Marissa turned onto her back and arched to give him more room to play.
“And bite and nibble.” Her nipples tasted like her sex.
She threaded her fingers into his hair. “God, yes.”
He sucked her nipple deep, until she moaned and shifted beneath him. “Because you want me to make love to you.”
“Yes, please.” Her words floated on her breath, barely audible.
He drew a circle with his tongue around her belly button. “Pretty, not dirty.”
“Scott, yes.”
He kissed her again, deep and hard. This time when they made love he didn’t rush, exploring her body with his eyes, mouth, hands. The first time, he’d wanted it to be good for her. Now, he needed to make it more than that. For every inch of her body to know his touch, his kiss, his need for her.
He brought them both to the limits of control, and then followed her right over the edge. By the time his brain started working again, she’d fallen asleep in his bed like she belonged there. He had to convince her that she did. Because he couldn’t let her go, not now.
He didn’t want this to fade away across the miles and months apart. Before, he’d always been the one to lose interest in relationships, successfully avoiding commitment by searching for that one, perfect feeling. Only now he’d found it with a woman who had no desire to light up his world permanently, even if he made it revolve around her.