“My hair—the river water—”
“The water was clean.”
“But I’d rather be fresh.” She didn’t know why she was making excuses now to delay what was going to happen, but she was suddenly nervous. It had been a long time for her, and Diaz wasn’t an ordinary man. Both facts were staring her in the face, and she wanted to slow this down.
He unsnapped her jeans and said, “I want you just like this.” Then he kissed her.
There was nothing romantic about Diaz, no murmured sweet things, no gallant gestures, just this kiss that went on and on, deep and voracious. She’d never been kissed like this before, with an intensity that stripped everything down to the simplest components: male, female. He held her with his hand burrowed into her hair, her skull gripped in his palm, her head tilted back while he fed from her mouth. That was what it felt like, a taking. And yet he gave, too. He gave pleasure. She burned with it, the flames fueled by nothing more than his mouth and tongue.
His erection bulged in the crotch of his jeans. It was a rock-hard presence pushing against her stomach, and her loins tightened with need. Frenzied now, she pulled back a little, fought with button and zipper and won, wrenching the damp cloth aside so she could grasp the hard length that thrust outward. She wrapped her fingers around him, delighting in the thickness, the silky slide of his skin. She moved her hand up and down, circling the thick crown of his penis and dragging a deep, raw sound from his throat as he shuddered convulsively.
His arms tightened and he bore her down on the bed and, in twenty tumultuous seconds, had her stripped naked. Another ten had his own clothes on the floor. He put his hands on her knees and pushed them apart, not waiting for her compliance, and moved into place over her. Milla put her hands on his ribs, holding on as he braced his weight on one arm while with his other hand he guided his penis to her and in the same rough motion pushed deep inside.
He froze in place, his breath panting between his parted lips as they stared at each other. She couldn’t move; the feel of him inside her was too sharp, almost painful in its intensity. Their gazes met in the mellow lamplight, and she was mesmerized by the tension in his face, the way his steely muscles were locked as if he didn’t dare move. It built and built, that clawing need, and yet she remained poised on the razor’s edge of something she knew she couldn’t control. His chest suddenly heaved on a convulsive breath, and he moved in a long, deep stroke that took him all the way to the hilt.
She clenched: her vagina, her entire body. She clenched around him and her vision blurred and she began to come, wave after wave of almost blinding pleasure. She had never come like that before, so totally lost in the physical that she had no sense of self, of surroundings, of anything beyond the moment and the ecstasy that spasmed in her belly, down her legs, along her nerve endings. He rode her through it, thrusting hard, demanding his own release and in doing so prolonging hers. He made that raw sound again and arched back, shaking convulsively as his hips jerked and plunged before, long seconds later and trembling in every muscle, he slowly collapsed on top of her.
The aftermath was like a wasteland, desolate and empty. She lay beneath him, too exhausted to move, barely able to breathe, and fought the urge to cry. She had never before been weepy after sex and didn’t know why she should be now, but she felt a haunting need for comfort. She wanted to bury her face against his shoulder and sob like a child.
Because this had been a monumental mistake? Or because it was over?
Even though he lay heavily on her, sucking deep breaths into his lungs, she could still feel a fine, subtle tension running through his every muscle, as if he never quite relaxed—as if he was already thinking of moving on.
What did one say after an experience like this? “Wow” seemed both inadequate and out of place. “Do it again” was what she wanted to say. Right at this moment, she never wanted to be separated from his body again. Sanity would return, she was certain. Maybe in another few minutes. Maybe tomorrow. Until then, she wanted him inside her. She wanted to feel again what she had felt moments before, though she didn’t know if she could muster the energy to try, or survive it if she did.
“Do it again.” She said it anyway, because she couldn’t not say it. She slid her legs up his sides and coiled them around him, clung to him with her arms, tilted her pelvis in an effort to hold his softening penis.
He laughed, that low, rusty growl of sound, and his breath was warm in her hair. “I’m not sixteen. You’ve gotta give me a few more minutes than this.” He still sounded a bit breathless. But he didn’t withdraw from her; he settled down a bit more heavily, as if he finally relaxed that last little bit, and snuggled in so that as long as they didn’t move, his penis would remain inside her. “I think that lasted about fifteen seconds.”
“I didn’t last that long,” she murmured, closing her eyes and inhaling the warm male scent of his skin.
“Thank God.” He nuzzled her temple, then whispered, “Take a nap,” and he closed his eyes and proceeded to do just that.
This was nothing like the first time he’d told her to do that. This time, the feel of him on top of her was so wonderful she was still fighting tears. How could he expect her to sleep when he weighed a ton and she could barely breathe, when she wanted to cling to him and cry and laugh at the same time? How could she sleep when she was afraid to relax her muscles, lest she lose him? And yet she did, too exhausted to do otherwise.
She woke to long, slow strokes that went deep into her, to his hard hands gripping her bottom as he tilted her up and ground her clitoris against his pubic bone. He might not have had vast experience, but he knew what he was doing, knew all the hot spots and pleasure points of her body, and he used that knowledge to push her high and keep her there, without letting her go over the edge. This time was as prolonged as the first time had been brief. After a while she began struggling with him for supremacy, fighting him for her release, but he was too strong and controlled her until he was ready. Then he rode her hard and fast and hurled them both into orgasm.