Before I could draw in a deep breath, his hands were spreading my thighs as he lowered down, sealing his mouth over me, licking, sucking, driving me right back to that edge.
And denying me yet again.
"McCoy," I cried, attempting to hold his face between my thighs, but he was determined to get away.
He wasn't the only one who could do some torturing, though, was he?
On that thought, I folded upward, getting to my knees in front of him, and letting my hands slide up his sides, grabbing the back of his neck to pull him down, sealing my lips to his.
My greedy hands moved downward, grabbing the hem of his tee, and drawing it upward, waiting for him to lift his arms so I could remove it completely.
Only then did I pull backward so I could watch as my fingers traced over his shoulders, down his arms, over his chest, then stomach. My fingers met the smooth, raised spots of scars, and traced over each of them a few times before moving along. His muscles twitched under my touch as his breathing got faster and more shallow.
My hands flattened at his lower stomach, one of them moving downward to rub over his straining cock through the material of his jeans, getting a low rumble out of him as my other hand worked his button and zipper free.
"Babe..." McCoy growled as my palm rubbed over the head of his cock through his pants, giving him a hint of what he wanted, but not nearly enough.
"Not fun being on the receiving end of that, huh?" I asked, smirking up at him.
"Shy," he grumbled, his hand nearly bruising into the skin of my hip.
My hand left him, pressing into his stomach, pushing backward until he stood on the floor, allowing me to draw down his pants and boxers.
My sex clenched hard at the length of him as my hands moved up his thighs, settling on his hips, then slipping backward to grip his ass, and dragging him forward.
My head angled up, gaze holding his as my hand reached out, closed around him, and stroked him to the hilt.
His indrawn breath was all the encouragement I needed as my tongue moved out to wet my lips before I slipped forward, and slipped his cock between, sucking him inch by inch into my mouth, feeling the way his body practically vibrated with the sensation.
I worked him slowly at first, taking my time, torturing him a bit, before sucking faster, driving him upward like he'd done to me.
"No," he rumbled, grabbing a handful of my hair, and yanking backward until his cock slid from my mouth.
My head angled up, looking at him, finding his chest heaving and his eyes heavy as his hand slid from my hair to trace under my swollen lower lip for a second as he tried to get ahold of himself.
As soon as he did, he was helping me back toward the top of the bed before going into the nightstand for protection.
Once that was handled, he reached for my ankles once again, grabbing, then pulling them, turning me, dragging me to the edge of the bed, then hauling up my legs, pressing them to one shoulder as his other hand grabbed his cock, sliding it up and down between my folds before pressing against the entrance of my body, and waiting until I was writhing and begging once again.
Only then did he slide inside me with one slow, deep thrust, forcing my walls to acclimate to him as he settled impossibly deep.
"Fuck," he hissed, as his head fell back, eyes closed, looking for some self-control, and giving me the most incredible view. I greedily drank it up for a long moment, wanting to memorize every inch of him.
But it wasn't long before the ache between my thighs became stronger than my urge to look at him, making my hips start to rock against him, something that made his head lower, and his eyes snap open.
"Please," I whimpered, rolling my hips in a circle.
His eyes went molten at that as his arm anchored across my thighs, holding them against his chest, as he started to fuck me. Slow and steady at first, but faster as the moments passed, as the need for release grew.
On a groan, McCoy released my legs, letting them drop to the sides as he grabbed my hips, using them to slam my body against his as he thrust, forcing me to take every thick inch of him.
"McCoy, please," I whimpered, getting closer.
On a rumble, he dropped my hips, pressing his fingers between my thighs, and working my clit as he fucked me harder still, pushing me to that edge, then throwing me over before I could even catch my breath to cry out, leaving me gasping through it, breathless and overwhelmed.
"Fuck," McCoy growled as he kept fucking me, dragging it out, before slamming deeper still, his body jolting as he came.
His knees came down on the edge of the bed after like his legs didn't want to hold him anymore.
I don't know how long we both stayed there like that, but it was McCoy who got himself together first, his hands starting to stroke softly up the sides of my thighs, a feather-light touch that had a shiver coursing through me, finally forcing me to open my eyes. I found him watching me, eyes soft, and a ghost of a smile on his lips.
"What's the verdict?" he asked, making my brows pinch.
"What verdict?"
"Sleep me or real me?"
"Oh, well...I mean, I think it would only be right to do that, say, fifty or sixty more times before I come up with a definitive answer."
"Seems fair," he agreed, leaning forward to press a kiss to my lips before pulling away, and walking off into the bathroom.
Alone, I scrambled back up the bed, curling my knees into my chest, and circling them with my hands just before he walked back in, still gloriously naked, and completely unconcerned with that fact.
"Not sure I like the look on your face," he concluded, brows furrowing as he looked down at me for a moment before climbing onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard beside me. "What's up?" he asked.
"I, ah, I'm not a random hookup kind of girl," I told him. "I probably should have made that clear before, you know, that happened."
"Babe, clocked that about you within an hour of knowing you. What's your point?"
Was there anything in the entire world more uncomfortable than the "What are we" chat? I was pretty sure there wasn't.
"I just, I guess I..."
"Shy."
"Yeah?"
"You want to ask me something, ask me," he said, shrugging.
"Are we just hooking up, or is there something else here?"
"Honestly? I don't know," he admitted. "Figure you'd want to hear that rather than some bullshit. I don't know. It's new. But so far, I like being around you. And I really liked what we just did. I think it's worth it to see if we both keep enjoying being around each other and doing what we just did. How's that work for you?"
I'd had several men in my life promise me the world right from the beginning, only to invariably snatch it away from me, leaving me empty-handed and broken-hearted.
Maybe there was something to be said for a man who could admit he didn't know what the future held, that didn't feed you bullshit promises he wasn't going to keep.
"Yeah," I agreed, leaning my head into his arm. "That works for me."
"Good," he said, slipping his arm around my lower back to curl me into his side more.
"About this, though..."
"Uh oh," he mumbled, but sounded amused.
"No. It's just... do we keep this on the down-low, or are we—"