them before his hands were at her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, scorching her skin. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and lifted her up onto the edge of the desk.
She braced her hands there as he pulled away, reaching for his pants on the floor. She didn’t take her eyes off of him, drinking in the sight of him, his firm buttocks flexing as he walked, his muscles shifting beneath taut skin. He was beautiful. There was no other word for it, for him. His body was lean and tight. A light layer of dark hair dusted his chest and the ridges of his belly, trailing lower from his belly button to where the proof of his arousal rose from his body, hard and thick and pulsing.
Digging into his wallet, he came up with a condom. Within seconds he had the package ripped open and covered himself. He turned back to her, taking one step before suddenly stopping, his eyes feasting on her. And as she watched the pure male appreciation play across his face, she’d never felt more desirable, or more desired.
Then he was back in front of her, his erection jutting forward, leading the way to her. His hands returned to her hips, the tip of his arousal unerringly finding her folds, primed to receive him, needing him inside her.
In the split second before it happened, his eyes moved to hers, meeting her gaze. Those dark eyes she’d thought were unreadable so many times burned with desire, the emotion undeniable and aimed squarely at her.
He thrust into her, hard, deep, in one push. Her eyes drifted shut, a moan rising in her throat, at the sensation of him filling her, at the pleasure, at the rightness of it. It was good. So very good. Her mouth fell open, the moan nearly slipping out. And then his mouth was on hers, claiming it again, swallowing the sound. His tongue dived back between her lips, stroking against hers, even as his hips pulled back and he thrust again, driving another groan from deep inside her.
She hooked her legs around his hips and dug her heels into his thighs, spurring him to move faster, deeper. He did, gradually picking up speed. She rocked against him, matching his rhythm with her lower body, meeting him every step of the way. As the pressure began building low in her body, starting where their bodies met, she wound her arms around him and held him to her tightly. It felt as if they were connected everywhere—their mouths, their limbs, their hips—and were truly one. She struggled to hold on as long as she could, even when it seemed as though the pressure was more than she could bear and there was no way she could hold on any longer, even as he pushed her higher and higher. She wanted more, wanted to put off that sweet release as long as possible, wanted this to last forever.
Until finally, incredibly, overwhelmingly, with one final hard thrust, she erupted. She clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as wave after powerful wave ripped through her, obliterating every thought and sense in her mind, every bone and limb of her body in a rush of sheer pleasure. She distantly felt his body tensing beneath her hands, felt him go rigid in her arms, as he found his own release with her.
He sagged against her, his head dropping onto her shoulder. He remained there, leaning into her, still buried inside her. After a few long moments, he pressed the gentlest of kisses against her collarbone. The tenderness of it, the sweetness, sent another wave of feeling pooling through her, filling her with a fresh and entirely different kind of warmth. A sigh of contentment, of happiness, of so much more than she could begin to process, welled in her lungs.
The blistering, frenzied, desperate need that had overtaken them had faded, their passion satisfied. In its wake was a quiet intimacy that was even sweeter.
He continued to kiss his way along her collarbone, up her neck, finally reaching her mouth. Their lips met, softly this time, but no less eager, the kiss long and lingering and utterly perfect.
It ended too soon. He finally broke the kiss, leaning back. She braced herself for him to pull away, not ready for it to happen.
It didn’t. He stopped, still leaning over her, peering straight into her eyes, the look in them sparking the