“What the hell?” I pulled away and looked down. “Why are you still wearing pants?”
“It’s not my fault.” Simon leaned in to kiss my neck, and one of his hands moved south again, where I was still a little sensitive. “I got distracted.”
“No, you don’t.” I squirmed out of his embrace and scrabbled at his jeans, popping the button and wrestling the zipper down. “Get these off.” Our laughs combined as we got him naked. When he pulled me back into his arms there was finally nothing between us, and we both sighed together at the feel of nothing but skin against skin. His cock pressed against my lower stomach, hard and hot and impossible to ignore. I snaked a hand between our bodies to curl around him, and he hissed at the contact.
“Wait.” His voice shook as I gave him a long, slow stroke. I ignored his plea and concentrated on learning the feel of him, heavy in my hand and slowly growing slick as I established a lazy rhythm. “Wait. God, Emily. Wait, please.” He leaned away to fumble in his nightstand, and I grinned and nibbled on his shoulder. Revenge was fantastic.
“Very nice,” I said in response to the rip of the condom wrapper. “I like a man who’s prepared.”
His laugh was harsh and desperate, and it made my smile widen. “Not even close. You have no idea how relieved I was that I had one in there. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah?” The thought warmed me, reinforced the feeling that this was right. I was where I was supposed to be.
“Yeah.” The laughter was gone from his voice now, and my heart thudded as he reached for me again, this time with purpose. But instead of rolling me under him like I expected, he pulled me into him, both of us still on our sides, and hooked my leg over his hip. We were face to face, belly to belly, and he took my hand and brought it back to his cock. “Please.” His voice was little more than breath now. His forehead was pressed to mine, and as I stroked him a sigh shuddered out of him. “Please.”
I knew what he was asking for. I guided him, teasing the both of us with the tip of him stroking my clit. Then he hitched my leg higher on his hip and he rocked into me, just a little. A strangled sound that could have come from either of us broke the night. He withdrew and pushed into me again, then again, each time a little deeper until finally he was buried inside me, our hips flush against each other.
He didn’t move at first. Instead his mouth sought out mine and I kissed him like I was trying to get even closer to him, pull him in deeper. He moved slowly, soft pulses like he couldn’t bear to pull all the way out. I was fine with that. Now that we were connected I didn’t want him to go away.
But not for long. As his breathing deepened his thrusts became more insistent, and I felt urgency rise in me again. Before long I rocked against him, meeting his passion with my own. His breath came in pants, hot in my ear. His hand was warm and sure at the small of my back, tilting my hips, changing the angle of his body in mine.
He was close. I could feel it in the way he moved, his rhythm stuttering. His hand fell from my back to my thigh, pulling it higher, tighter against him. Once my body was positioned like he wanted it he slid a hand between our bodies. “You can come again, love. I know you can.” It wasn’t a question. Not a request. It was a command, growled in my ear by a pirate, whose fingertips stroked me in short, quick circles. Heat coursed through me and I gripped the back of his neck, my fingernails digging into his skin. He growled from deep in his chest, and the rumble of it sent shivers across my skin. When he stroked me harder I bowed against him, wanting to escape the overwhelming feelings and trying to get more of him at the same time.
Everything built again, fast, from where he stroked me, where he rocked against me, building higher and higher until I tightened and broke in his arms. I clung to him and cried out as waves crashed through me and I spasmed around him.
He stilled his movements as I came, and before I could catch my breath he pressed me under him into the bed. Too weak to hold on, I dropped my hands to lie on either side of my head and he reached for them, threading our fingers together and holding on tight. I tilted my hips up to take him in as deeply as I could. His mouth drank from mine greedily as he drove into me harder.
“I’ve wanted you for weeks, Emily . . . weeks.” The words poured out of him between shuddering breaths and desperate thrusts. He dropped his head, his mouth on the side of my neck. “God . . . I’ve been trying to stay away from you, not touch you, not want you . . .” His eyes were closed and his words washed over me, spoken against my skin, and I gratefully let them soak in. “Then you show up here in that little dress, you make me crazy. Emily.” My name was a hoarse cry torn from his throat, his hands tightened impossibly on mine. “You feel so . . . I don’t know if I can . . .”
“It’s okay.” I wanted to hold him, but he was holding me down too tightly. So I canted my thighs up, clinging to him, and I kissed his neck, his jaw. “It’s okay,” I said into his ear. “Let go. I’ve got you.” I found that silver hoop with my teeth and tugged on it a little, ran my tongue along the shell of his ear, biting, and he sucked in a breath like he was drowning. Then his body shuddered above mine, into mine, and we rode out his orgasm together.
He never did turn on the light that night, but I didn’t mind. Everything I needed was easy to find in the dark.
Seventeen
The first thing I realized, as I blinked slowly awake the next morning, was that Simon was a cuddler. The second thing I realized was that I was too. We’d slept with our legs tangled together, and even in sleep he had one arm wrapped around me and his other hand buried in my hair, holding me to him.
At first I tried to pretend I was still asleep so I wouldn’t have to move. I’d never felt this way in my life. Warm. Safe. Protected. No one had ever made me feel cherished the way Simon had during these last few hours.
I could get used to this.
Early-morning sunlight filtered in through the half-closed blinds that had let the moonlight in the night before. I stretched a little, and Simon’s arms tightened around me in sleep while I let my mind wander. Monday morning. No bookstore. No Faire. That one beautiful, blissful day where I had nothing planned. The only thing on the agenda was keeping an eye on Caitlin, making sure she didn’t burn the house down while April was at work . . .
Shit.
I exploded out of the bed, sheets flying, and scrambled for my dress.
“What . . . ?” Behind me, Simon struggled for wakefulness as I snatched my underwear off the floor.
“I have to go.” I yanked on my underwear and shook out my dress, too flustered to worry about modesty. Or politeness. My phone thumped to the carpet and I scooped it up, punching in April’s number while I pulled my dress on over my hips. “I’m sorry!” The apology was out of my mouth before April could even say hello. “I know, I’m late. I’ll be there in a sec.”