Good Time Girl

He eased his thumbs back a teasing fraction of an inch from her slick swollen center and watched her eyes flare wide in mindless entreaty, watched her bite her lip against protest and plea. Her desire was palpable, her anticipation a living, breathing thing between them.

He knew exactly what she wanted.

Needed.

Had to have.

In another mood, he might have made her say the words, might have teased her—and himself—by making her ask for what she wanted. Instead, he slid his hands under her hips, slid his body down off the bed until his knees were on the floor and his shoulders were wedged between her thighs.

“We’ll save the hard riding for later,” he said, and buried his face between her legs.

Roxanne nearly levitated off the bed at the first heated, silken stroke of his tongue against her throbbing clitoris. Her back arched like a bow. Her hands clutched at the worn chenille bedspread, gathering it into her clenched fists. Her booted heels pressed down into the edge of the mattress. She moaned. Loudly. And then more loudly still as he brought his fingers into play again, opening her more fully to his lasciviously talented tongue.

It felt as if every nerve ending in her body began and ended in that one tiny nubbin of sensitized flesh between her legs. She throbbed. She ached. She vibrated with need. And, then, in a blinding, incandescent blaze of sheer primal lust, she came. It was gut-wrenching. Breath-stealing. Mind-blowing.

Sublime.

“More,” she demanded, when her breath finally shuddered back into her lungs and she could breathe again. She released her death grip on the bedspread and reached down, fisting her hands in his dark, silky hair, pressing him closer, straining for another peak. “More.”

He acquiesced with satisfying gallantry and greed, with no hint of hesitation or resistance, as if continuing to pleasure her with his mouth had been his intention all along. And, maybe, it had been. She was sweet and tender, so incredibly hot and responsive that it was pure, unadulterated pleasure to give her what she wanted. Because it was what he wanted, too.

Making her scream with ecstasy had been high on his list of priorities since the first moment he’d seen her in the bar. He’d thought to do it by pounding her into the mattress. He still meant to do it that way. Later. Right now, he was determined to tease those screams of ecstasy out of her with his tongue. She’d uttered that one, long, shuddering, gasping breath when she came the first time; he wanted a full-throated scream the next time she went over. He slipped his hands back under her bare squirming bottom to hold her more securely, and set about getting what he wanted with the same single-minded focus he applied to everything.

In minutes, he had her writhing between his hands. Her hips undulated against his mouth in mindless entreaty. Her head thrashed against the bed. Her breath came in throaty little whimpers and panting moans, interspersed with disjointed pleas and fragmented demands.

“Oh, God… I… Yes. Oh, yes. There. Oh, please. Yes. Right there. Yes. Yes. Yes!”

The last yes came out as a strangled shout, a muffled scream that barely echoed off the thin walls of the motel room.

Satisfied with that, Tom lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to the soft crinkly hair that covered her mound.

“Inside,” she demanded raggedly, nearly delirious with need. She yanked on his hair, trying to pull him up her body. “I need you inside me. Now. Right now.”

Tom didn’t have to be asked twice. He levered himself on top of her with a supple shift of his body, sliding up between her splayed thighs. His engorged penis nudged her slick folds, seeking the entrance to her soft, hot woman’s body. It took every ounce of his considerable willpower to keep from plunging into her. Instead, calling upon his last reserves of control, he pushed himself up onto his knees and reached for the top button on her blouse.

“The condom.” The words were gritted out between clenched teeth. His hands were trembling. “Where’s the damned condom?”

Roxanne pushed his groping hands away to retrieve it herself. “I’ll do it,” she said, curling the foil-wrapped packet into her fist when he would have taken it from her. “I want to do it.”