Honey Pie (Cupcake Club) - By Donna Kauffman Page 0,103
along the crest of the wave, helping her find every last ounce of pleasure there was to be had until she was trembling, her breath catching over and over.
He kissed the inside of her thigh, then the soft spot to the side of her hipbone, before sliding up and pulling her against him. “You okay?” he murmured next to her ear.
She opened her eyes to his, and they were utterly defenseless.
“Aw, sugar, I’m sorry—”
She pressed a kiss to his lips, silencing him, then kept on kissing him. There was so much emotion, sweet, tender, and passionate. All her guards were completely gone, and he worried, knowing she was at her most vulnerable.
Her eyes closed, so he let his own drift shut and went along with her gentle, but urgent demands. When she pulled him back on top of her, slid her heels up the backs of his thighs, and wrapped her legs around his waist, he slipped his hands to her hips, lifted her to him, found her, and slid steady, strong, and fully inside of her.
He might have growled . . . or it might have been her. He stayed fully inside of her, not moving, just reveling in every sensation, making sure she was okay with the size of him. Making sure she was with him. He waited for her to move, and when she did, he groaned. Long, deep, guttural groans as they slowly found their pace, the rise and fall of her hips and his body sliding into hers in as age old a rhythm as the sea under his sail. He felt like he’d known her forever even as he understood, on every level possible, that he’d never once known anything like this.
They continued to move together, and she slid her hand to the back of his neck, urging his mouth to hers again. “Dylan . . .” she breathed against his lips; then she opened her eyes, and he fell so deeply into that vast sea of green, he knew he’d drown in them and smile as he did.
She smiled back, even as she gasped when he drove into her more deeply, pulled her up against him more tightly, sinking all the way into her as she kissed him again and again, until he was the one climbing . . . and shattering.
They held on to each other, panting, gasping . . . smiling, while their heart rates slowed and their breathing returned to normal. He rolled to his side, gathering her against him. And she surprised him again, by propping her chin on his chest, and looking up with a happy gaze, eyes dancing.
“What?” he said, already grinning.
“I just . . . I didn’t know. I mean, I’ve read about it, and I’m a modern woman and hardly a prude, so, you know, I’ve figured it out on my own. But . . . I honestly had no idea.”
“About?” He gently rolled her to her back and pushed her hair from her face.
“How it feels, to be . . . well, to be taken like that, to climax like that. It’s so incredibly . . . powerful.”
He shouldn’t feel so pleased with himself to discover that he was the first one to show her that kind of pleasure. But he was. Ridiculously so. And he wasn’t ashamed of the pride he felt, because he knew she could share in it. No one made him feel so . . . hell, he felt invincible with her. “Well, sugar, I can honestly say I felt everything you did. I’m glad to know I can do that, be that, for you.” He grinned. “Of course, I’m not saying there isn’t always room for improvement. Practice makes perfect, after all.” “Practice just makes for perfect practicing,” she said, then sighed. “And I’m all for that.”
He chuckled and couldn’t seem to keep his hands to himself. He touched her hair, traced her lips. “You hungry?” He reached past her and found her glasses, then slid them back on for her.
She slid them right back off again, and smiled at him as she dropped them back on the bedside table. “Not for dinner.” She pushed him to his back. “My turn to do a little exploring.”
He groaned and surrendered without so much as a whimper.
“My, my,” she said, moments later on a giggle. “I was right. Stamina isn’t going to be a problem. Eat your heart out, Mr. Hanson.”