Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) - Nina Lane Page 0,62

forward the instant the tension breaks, spooling ecstasy through me. I cry out, writhing against his cock to milk every last sensation from my body.

Dean slides his hands down my torso, his breath hot on the back of my neck. He eases me forward, and I brace myself on the counter again, catching sight of my own reflection. With my hair messy over my shoulders, my eyes heavy-lidded with lust and satisfaction, my skin flushed with fire, I look like a different woman.

Or not. I actually look like Liv West in the throes of just one of the hot things she and Dean West can do together. I just don’t often see it. It’s damn sexy too.

I part my legs, opening for him. With one powerful surge, he’s inside me, jolting my body forward. I tighten my fingers on the edge of the counter. Sweat breaks out on my skin. He starts to thrust, each smack of his flesh hitting mine accompanied by a deep groan that fires my lust anew.

Electricity sizzles between us. His T-shirt clings to his shoulders, outlining every corded muscle. I can’t take my eyes off our reflections—the way my breasts bounce and sway in time with every thrust, the strain of Dean’s body as he surges forward again and again, his muscles shifting and flexing…

My world distills, focusing on the sensation of us moving together. He slides one hand to my clit, splaying his long fingers around it without breaking the rhythm of his thrusts.

Then he stops, his cock still throbbing inside me, his gaze on me in the mirror as he works his fingers faster, in the exact way that impels my need higher and higher.

“Dean, I’m…”

“Again,” he commands, lowering his head to bite gently on my shoulder as he presses harder.

The combination of his touch and the mild twinge of his teeth sends me over the edge, and I come a second time, shuddering so hard that he mutters a curse and drives into me again.

Still quivering, I brace myself on the counter and spread my legs wider so he can push into me as powerfully as he needs to. Within seconds, a groan rumbles from his chest, his whole body tightening as he comes deep inside me.

“Oh my god…” I lower myself onto my elbows with a moan. “So good.”

“Fucking amazing.” His breath saws heavily through the air.

He lifts himself away from me, running his hands slowly over my shoulders, hips, and rear. My breasts are pressing against the granite counter. I push upward, looking at their natural fullness, my pink nipples that are still hard—even now, if Dean touched them, I would feel currents of heat flow right to my core.

What if I lose those sensations completely? What if I never experience this kind of pleasure with my husband again?

I try to block such thoughts, but it’s impossible.

Dean bends to slide one arm beneath my legs. He lifts me against him, his muscular chest warm and damp. I wind my arms around his neck and bury my face in his shoulder. He carries me to the bedroom.

I don’t let go of him as he lowers me onto the bed, and then he stretches out beside me. We look at each other for a long moment, tension and heat still coloring the air between us. He brushes my hair away from my face and presses his lips against my forehead, then down to my eyelids, my cheeks, my nose, my mouth.

He moves his hands to my breasts, stroking my body with warm gentleness. He lowers his head to kiss my neck and the hollow of my throat.

I watch him, my anxiety slipping away at the lovely sight of my husband worshipping my body. He slides his hands over the curves of my waist and hips, down to my thighs, and then follows the path with his mouth.

I sink into his touch, letting him ease my fear, absorbing the sensation of his lips on my skin, the fine-grain sandpaper of his stubble, the assured, smooth glide of his palms. I reach out to press my fingers into his thick hair and stroke my hand down the side of his face. Comfort and love flood me as our eyes meet again.

He moves back up to enfold me in the protective circle of his arms. I curl against him, settling my head on his chest as our bodies fit seamlessly together. And then it’s like a cool breeze ruffling through floral curtains, like the scent

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