I slap her ass harder. “I don’t want to leave marks on you. It doesn’t sit well with me. But there will be times that I want to be a little rougher.”
“I like it rough,” she says, and gasps again when I plunge two fingers inside her from behind.
“I think we’re going to like it every way,” I reply, and leave wet kisses on her back as I ease back inside her.
But I don’t want to fuck her hard. Not tonight. I want to revel in every contraction of her pussy, every moan.
So I take my time, pushing in and out, making us both completely nuts.
“I’m going to come,” she says, and bites the pillow. I speed up now, and reach under her so I can press my fingertip to her clit, and watch as she explodes.
“Yes, baby,” I croon to her. When the convulsions of her pussy begin to lighten, I push in as hard as I can and ride out my own orgasm, then collapse next to her.
“Holy hell,” she murmurs.
“My thoughts exactly.”
Chapter Nine
~Kat~
I haven’t slept this well since . . . California. I rub my eyes and roll over to find Mac sprawled next to me, sleeping soundly on his back.
Even when he’s asleep, with a five o’clock shadow, he’s a fine specimen of a man. I think scientists should study him.
Maybe I should have been a scientist after all.
I glance over at the clock and feel my eyes widen in surprise. I slept eight straight hours. Sure, it’s only five in the morning, but I slept for eight hours.
I gently kiss Mac’s cheek and slip from the bed, escaping to the bathroom to do my thing. I feel amazing. Well, aside from some sore, unused muscles that got a workout last night. But even that feels good.
I wash my hands and stare at myself. No makeup, hair a mess, in a tank top and yoga shorts that I nabbed on my way to the restroom.
I think I’m glowing. I bite my lip and grin. Yes, there’s definitely a glow there. I lean in to look closer, frowning when I see the beginnings of crow’s-feet around my eyes.
Despite the wrinkles, I look fantastic. Rested and well sexed, which is exactly as it should be for a woman in her midtwenties.
I just need to get an eye cream for the wrinkles. I mentally add that to my to-do list.
“Just don’t get attached,” I whisper to myself. “This is still a sexcation. Be the mature adult you are, and don’t get used to him, Kat. This isn’t fiction. Just because he looks and acts like those men in your romance novels doesn’t mean that really exists.”
I glare at myself, as if I really mean what I’m saying. Because I do. I’ve been involved with a man once or twice before. One I even considered staying with for a long time, before he admitted to sleeping around behind my back. I’m married to my job. Men are there to scratch an itch.
Cami and Addie just got lucky.
“Keep it together.”
And with one final stern look, I pad out to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and curl up in my chair with my Kindle. It’s not often that I see this time of day after sleeping. I’m usually going to bed about now.
Interesting.
I finished my sexy New Orleans story yesterday, so I open one of my favorite books, one that I read every year, and dig in. Before long I’m transported to another place, submerged in other people’s lives, woven by the magic of words, strung together in the perfect way.
“Good morning.”
I jump about a foot in the air, my Kindle falling to the floor, and look up into sleepy green eyes.
“Good morning.”
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Mac says with a small smile, and picks up my coffee to take a sip, then scowls. “This is cold.” He walks away, clad only in his little black boxer briefs, to the kitchen.
“You didn’t startle me.” I retrieve my Kindle and set it aside. I can’t take my eyes off him. He moves effortlessly, completely comfortable in his own skin. And he should be, his skin is fucking amazing. He makes another cup of coffee, adds a little more sugar than I would, walks back to me, staring at me with those bright green eyes over the rim of the mug, and suddenly I’m lifted out of my chair. Mac takes my seat and settles me in his lap.
“Liar,” he murmurs, and kisses my cheek.
“What are we talking about?” I whisper, reaching for the mug of java and taking a sip.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a smile. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m great.” I shrug and look out the window to the West Hills of Portland. The sun is shining on them, making the green extra bright, like Mac’s eyes. “I slept eight whole hours,” I inform him, settling against his chest. He’s a tall and broad man, and I feel surprisingly comfortable here.
“Good. You needed it.”
“I guess so. You wore me out last night.”
I grin up at him.
“Are you complaining?”
“No way.” I smile and take another sip of his coffee. “How did you sleep?”
“Not bad. I woke up in the night to check the locks on the door and answer a text from Chase, then came back to bed and slept until just a little while ago.”
“You and Chase are close?”
He nods and kisses my temple. “He’s only two years younger than me. Sometimes he’s a pain in the ass, but we’re pretty tight.”
“Are you close to your parents?”
He pauses, dragging his fingertips up and down my arm. He gives me goose bumps.