He was sweating. His breath rasped as he dragged air into his lungs. God, she was driving him to the brink. He didn’t know how much longer he could maintain control. His cock was a rigid steel rod, throbbing painfully. He stood up to swiftly divest himself of his clothes. He tore open a condom to sheath himself. Then he unzipped her skirt and pulled it and her underpants down, lifting her buttocks to slide the garments off her legs. Her body was limp, heavy in its bonelessness. He didn’t need to feel her with his fingers to know that she was ready. He knelt on the sofa, nudging her legs apart with his thigh. Grasping her hips, he pulled her up, held her steady, and slowly pushed into her heat.
Michael inhaled harshly. It was excruciating. She was tight and wet. Instinctively he flexed his hips. A low mewl escaped her. The sexy sound fueled his desire. His fingers dug into her hips. He wanted to plunge wildly, but he held himself still. His entire body shook from the strain. The blood drummed in his temples. In a harsh voice that he barely recognized as his own, he ground out, “You can stop it, Winter. You can still stop it.” Her eyes flared open, blankly, revealing the black of her pupils dilated.
He eased out slowly, then partially back in. He felt her shudder. His cock was rock-hard, aching. “Tell me what you want, Winter!” He pulled out slowly then pushed forward only until he reached that same spot that had made her shudder. “Tell me to stop! Now!” Again he made the tortuous shallow stroke. Again, again. His straining muscles quivered. Corded bands stood out on his neck.
Through the daze that held her, Cathy heard and dimly understood what he was demanding of her. She felt her inner muscles contract with each slick, heavy movement stroking of the same spot building an inferno inside her. Almost panicked, she felt the fiery unaccustomed pleasure pooling again. Incandescent warmth flashed through her body, flushing her skin with perspiration. She felt as though she was melting. Spirals of heat slowly rose, suffusing her being with fever. Foreign pressure built. Her whole body tightened. Her breath hitched in her throat. It was unbearable.
“Tell me to stop, Winter!”
Stroke, stroke. Her body began to bow under the exquisite torture. She flung back her head. Her writhing fingers clawed into the cushions. She choked out the words. “No! No, don’t stop!”
Michael grunted. He breathed harshly above her, pushed himself deep. Winter felt the unfamiliar pressure, the fullness of blood-hot flesh, stretching her, burning her. Then the thick pulsing heat seated inside her began to move, slowly at first, then faster, harder. Something exploded in her mind, in her body. Passion torched her. White heat rocketed through her core, carrying her into freefall with the sparks of a comet’s tail following her down. Then the brilliance flickered out, and it was black.
“Winter.”
Disturbed by the unfamiliar summons, she dragged her eyes open. Groping heavily through groggy confusion, she blinked. Faint gray daylight trickled past the edges of navy-blue drapes. The sight of the strange bedroom disoriented her, and she shut her eyes again. She rolled her head on the pillow. Dull pain shot through her skull. She groaned and forced her eyes open. What the hell happened?
A man stood near the rumpled bed, looking down at her. He was dressed in an expensive shirt and tie and suit. His dark, damp hair glistened. She frowned up at him. She didn’t recognize him.
His eyes were pale ice-blue.
Her memory came crashing back. He had taken her on the sofa. That much she remembered. She must have passed out then. When she had come back to herself, he had somehow brought her into the bedroom, into his bed. He had taken her three more times during the night before allowing her over-stimulated, exhausted body to sleep. She squeezed shut her eyes, willing it all to have been a hallucinatory dream.
“Your clothes are here on the chair. I’ve put fresh towels in the bathroom so you can shower. When you’re ready, come downstairs so that we can talk.” Her eyes snapped open. He walked out of the bedroom and closed the door quietly behind him.