call off what he had planned, then said, “Tell me when you’re close,” and bent to her core.
She’d thought she’d known heat. But as his tongue—as it slid over—mother of—as it slid inside—
It was a lick of fresh fire.
Her hands found the pillows, squeezing as she cried out. His puff of hot-breathed laughter only drove her higher. A mindless, oh-yes-yes stretch of bliss later, her face was pressed into her knuckles and tension was twisting tighter and hotter inside her, and she distantly found the focus to say, “Close.”
With one hand on her stomach, he kept up the rhythm, building her higher, mouth and fingers working her with masterful precision, until—
He stopped.
Literally, just—stopped. He gently lifted his mouth from her and eased his fingers out.
Any thoughts that he was going to crawl up her body and shatter her from the inside flickered out when he stayed put. Stunned and teetering on the precipice, she released the pillows in trembling, half-numb hands. He gave a low growl, as if he’d been pulled from his peak, and bit her thigh with scraping teeth. Sensitivity heightened, she gasped—and gasped again when he cupped one hand between her legs, moving very lightly, and pressed a firm path down her thigh with the other.
“Um.” Disbelieving, she forced herself to her elbows. “You lost my orgasm.”
“I didn’t lose anything.” His voice was hoarse with desire and he swept a line of wet kisses along her inner thigh.
She throbbed in response.
“We’re going to catch it on the way back up.”
She stared. Body thrumming, aching, roaring for what he’d withheld.
“Frankie.” He hovered between her legs, his cupped hand continuing to rub and his touch continuing to roam, enchanting her skin, sending sparks and jolts of delight racing back to her core. Sexual potential rolled off him in tidal waves—neither of them was done here. “I’m planning on edging you into another universe.”
“What?” The excitement inside her was slipping, and an unfulfilled restlessness took its place. It was both agonizing and blissful, and she moved herself against his palm, trying to rebuild what he’d broken.
“You haven’t been denied before?” It was his turn for disbelief. His free hand was running down her thigh, over her knee, down to her foot. Farther and farther from where she wanted him, but not breaking his touch or releasing his command of her body. “Just—trust me, okay?”
She surrendered to a whole-body shiver as his fingertips found the arch of her foot. “You meant to let that one go?”
He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, heavy-lidded gaze on her body stretched out before him. “M-hm.”
“And you plan to do that again?”
His eyes locked on hers. “M-hmmm.”
She lifted a leg, nudging him in the shoulder with her foot. “Get up here.”
Eyes dark, he slid up her body until he covered her, and for a moment, she stopped breathing, caught by the reality of being naked in his arms. His torso seemed wider, safer, stronger now that she was underneath it. She ran a hand over the taut plane of his chest, aware of his heart thundering beneath. When her hand dipped, aiming south, he dropped his stomach on hers to block her path, and she gasped at the sensation of their bare bellies together.
Swallowing, she managed to say, “Spoilsport.”
“Denial isn’t easy for me either.” He grazed his teeth lightly along her jaw, and as webs of pleasure spun down her spine, she rolled her hips to feel him hard and full against her. “And that’s not helping.”
“Not trying to help.” She wrapped a leg around the back of his thigh and rolled again.
Groaning, he slipped a hand under his pillow and came back with a little packet. “Anticipation is good, too, you know.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
He was playing at exasperation, but she sensed his dark delight at her greed. After sheathing himself, he settled over her. His gaze seemed to sink into her heart. “You’re really okay with this position?”
“Yes.”
He spread his fingers into her hair. “Then let’s find your next one,” he murmured, and pushed inside her.
Oh, God. He was—this was—oh, God.
“You’ll have to tell me again.” He spoke against her neck and slid in deeper.
Eyes closed, head tilted back, she whispered, “Don’t want to.”
She never spoke during sex. Rarely made eye contact. She’d always tried to pretend her bedpartner wasn’t really there, and when the soft somersault of release tumbled through her, she’d be straight back into her clothes and angling them out the door. She definitely had no experience with morning afters, but