He closed it after she climbed in.
Then he rounded the hood, folded in and took his woman to have a meal with her family.
* * * * *
She was finding it even though Chace was going slow, gentle, loving the feel of her, the smell of her, the sounds she was making.
But he knew by the noises, the way her body was shifting under his, the way she was tilting her h*ps with each stroke to get more of him and the fact that she wrapped one leg around his ass and pressed the inside of her other thigh against his hip that it was building.
He slid his lips from her neck over her jaw to take her mouth in a deep, slow kiss as his hand found her arm, slid down and wrapped around her wrist to pull it from around him. He twisted his hand, linked fingers with hers then pressed their hands into the bed, also moving so his forearm would take his weight.
He kept kissing her, thrusting deep but sweet and slow as he moved his other hand to find her arm and pull it from around her. Sliding his hand down to hers, he shifted it to her side, pressing her hand flat against her skin, gliding it up, in, up then, his hand over hers, he cupped her breast with it.
His thumb moving hers, he rubbed it tight over her hard nipple
And he got it. Her h*ps jerked, she gasped against his tongue, her leg tightened around his ass and she came.
Fuck, he loved that about her. Fast and hard or slow and sweet, she found it with just his tongue, her nipple and his cock.
Sometimes just his tongue and cock.
He moved faster, kept kissing her, thrusting harder and she took him, tipping up for him, giving him all of her as she kissed him back until he thrust deep, stayed planted and poured himself inside her as he groaned down her throat.
Fucking magnificent.
When he came down he found she was running the tip of her tongue along his lower lip, something he liked, something he liked to do to her, something he taught her.
Then again, he’d taught her everything.
She was his in every way she could be, his in a way most men never got a shot at.
His.
Yes.
Fucking magnificent.
His tongue gently pushed hers back into her mouth so he could kiss her deep, slow and long before he let her mouth go and trailed his lips back to her neck.
She’d wrapped her arm around him again and she moved her foot that was in the bed in order to wrap her leg around the back of his thigh.
Their hands were still linked in the bed beside her.
He’d f**ked a lot. He’d also made love. It couldn’t be said there weren’t women he’d cared about that he’d shared quiet moments like this with, as close as they could get.
But none of them felt like Faye. None of them smelled like her. None of them tasted like her. None of them curled their fingers between his quite as tight. None of them felt nearly as sweet wrapped around him, their soft bodies pressed under his, taking his weight. None of them, after taking her, made him feel clean and like everything was right in the world as long as her body was in his bed.
Not one.
Not even close.
“So, debriefing way late, dinner with your family went good…” he paused, “both times.”
He muttered this against the skin of her neck, felt her body give a soft jerk of surprise under his then he heard a soft giggle escape her throat.
That felt good. It sounded good. Like everything was right in the world, just because they were together in his bed, even when everything was not.
She’d give him that if she was twenty-nine or seventy-nine and he knew that right down to his soul.