“No.” But the word was a wail, a despondent cry of need.
Her body thrashed. More juice slicked his fingers, and she pushed into his hands, her breathing ragged.
“You’re going to let me give you an orgasm.” He didn’t ask; he knew from her body that he’d taken her past the point of no return. She’d be pissed afterward . . . but he’d always lived by the motto that it was easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.
“Hurry.”
He backed off just a fraction. He didn’t want to rush her pleasure. It would grow bigger, feel better, if he kindled it slowly, letting it build and build and build.
“Soon.” He nipped the back of her shoulder and moaned against her skin.
Del fought back, rubbing her ass against his c**k again, streaking fire through his veins. If she kept that up, he was going to come in his shorts, like some teenager with a wet dream. Hell, Del was a wet dream.
Pressing the flat of his hand against her belly, he shoved up, grinding against her. She gasped, spreading her legs wider. Tyler took the opportunity to shove two fingers into her cunt.
She gasped, clamped down, then trembled around his fingers. That was also going to get her off too fast.
He withdrew, and she mewled in distress. “Damn it, Tyler.”
“Soon, angel.”
“You’re a bastard. You said you wanted me to”—she gasped as his fingers found her clit again—“come.”
Then she wiggled her ass against him, slow and sexy, intentionally lighting him up. God, he was desperate to get inside her, feel her sweet little cunt all around him, know that it was Del taking him, clawing into his back and calling his name.
For a long moment, Tyler couldn’t breathe, so he just absorbed the pleasure mowing down every one of his better intentions.
They fell into a quick rhythm, Del gyrating back on his cock, then lifting into his fingers now circling her clit. Their breathing synced up, fast and shallow and loud.
“Tyler!” she all but begged.
And he could feel how distended her clit was, straining, jolting. She dug her nails into his thigh and cried out.
“Fuck, yes! Del . . .” He pushed against her, standing at the edge of a chasm of pleasure he couldn’t wait to tumble into. He was going to soil his shorts, and he didn’t give a shit.
Then it hit. Fire danced up his cock. The base of his spine tingled. His balls turned tight and heavy. He exploded. Under his hand, Del tensed and whimpered, her hips bucking, drawing out her own pleasure and his until it made his whole body seize. Until he gave himself over completely. Warm jets of se**n shot between them, coating his belly and her back where the tank top had ridden up. It made him twelve kinds of primitive to be glad that if his seed couldn’t be inside her, at least it was on her.
Moments later, their heavy breathing stopped. Del stiffened and pulled away.
Now it was time to pay the piper.
“What the hell were you doing?” She wrenched away.
Tyler resisted the urge to point out that she’d been complaining thirty seconds ago that he was withholding her pleasure. Big guess, but it would only piss her off more.
“Getting close to you and making you feel good.”
“Why?”
Because I think I want you for longer than a road trip, and I need to give you a reason to feel the same. Hmm. Maybe that explanation would have to wait.
He rose, flipped on the bathroom light, and grabbed a cheap washcloth from the towel rack and ran hot water over it. Wincing, he shucked his shorts and wiped himself clean, then rinsed the scrap of terrycloth and wrung it out. Stark naked, he crossed the room to Del, all wrapped up in the sheet and looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.
She judiciously avoided looking south of his face. “I told you earlier not to touch me.”
I told you earlier not to hold your breath . . . “Who else is going to clean your back?”
Del hesitated, then scrambled out of bed. “I’ll take a shower. I have to clean my clothes anyway.”