At my little huff of protest, he chuckled and then he bit the curve of my ass. The bite stung, but he pressed a kiss over it and then traced his hands up and down my sides.
“Angel, you look beautiful no matter how you’re lying, but I have always loved your ass.” The admission almost made me preen as he massaged one cheek and then the other. “You have no idea what it does to me to see you in jeans, do you?”
“Um…” I glanced over my shoulder at him as he stroked down the backs of my thighs and eased them apart. You know, it would be worth whatever spanking he wanted to give me. I shook my ass at him, and Ian’s mouth curved as he caught my eye. The moment held there, and then he landed a hard slap on my left cheek, the one he hadn’t spanked earlier, and heat jolted all the way through me.
At my harsh breath, he kept me pinned with a look as he massaged the heat from where he’d landed it, then he cupped his palm as he landed a second, and I groaned.
“Fuck,” he exhaled and moved, bracing my hips as he lined himself up, and then he pushed in, no pause for breath as he thrust deep. My whole body curled as I tried to push back into him, but there was no room for it as he draped over my back, and then his mouth caught mine as he began to rock his hips.
The feel of him was incredible, and I let out a sharp cry as he rocked into me. The slap of his skin hitting mine served like a damn metronome, and somewhere the fact that his music was still playing hit me and a laugh escaped me. His groans and harsh breaths punctuated our kisses. The belt came loose from my wrists, and he dragged me back up with him, mouthing kisses along my jaw as he kept slamming into me.
The shift in angle was everything, and every push made me cry out. I had to be quiet but I didn’t want to be, and Ian was no quieter than I was. He skated a hand down my chest as his other arm kept me up with him as he increased his rhythm. When he began to play with my clit, I lost it and dropped my mouth to the arm he had braced over my chest and clamped my lips against him, trying not to scream.
Vision whiting out, I couldn’t do anything but hold on as he rocked into me. Every stroke was like riding pure heat, and I only surfaced as he let out a long, low moan, hips jerking once. His orgasm was a lot quieter than mine, but the rush of heat pooling through me was so fucking different.
Somehow, he twisted to get us down on our sides, and he cradled me to his chest. Slowly, the fact that my whole body trembled registered, as did the slow strokes of his hands along my sides and up to my breasts, more soothing than stimulating. He was kissing me, too. Against my neck and along my shoulders.
I shuddered as he eased out of me. Oh, so much messier. That thought drifted from somewhere as he nudged me onto my back, and then he cupped my face before nuzzling a kiss so gentle, it brought tears to my eyes. I lost track of time, just lying there drifting as we kissed. This time when I lifted a hand to run through his hair, he only caught it for a moment to kiss it, and then I was free to touch him.
Eventually, our panting breaths slowed, and he stared down at me from heavy-lidded deep blue eyes, pupils blown and his expression so possessive, it made me shiver all over again. “How are you feeling?”
Oh, yes, the wrecked tone in his voice made me smile. “I don’t have words,” I admitted. I could still feel him inside of me. The heat. The weight. No condom was great.
I never wanted to go back.
I could also feel him leaking out of me. I could live without that, but not enough to make it matter. He kissed me again, and the song on the stereo shifted over to one of the new ones, the one he’d said he’d written about me, and I traced my fingers against his face.