Did he know about her dream man? Did he know about her idea of one true love?
“Your nightmare last night,” he answered and went on. “It’s all right, Sibyl, it’s over, it’s daylight now and you can talk to me about it,” he assured her gently.
Even the reminder of the horrible nightmare didn’t distract her from what his hand was doing. The nightmare was the same one she’d had over a week ago, before meeting him.
Her body continued to react to what she realised now was what he intended to be a soothing touch, though it very much was not.
“Colin?” she asked, and she heard the tremor going through his name.
She had wanted to ask him to stop, but his lips were close to her ear and he mumbled a vibrating, “Mm?” and, already aroused, the sound of it thundered through her and she was done.
Before she could stop herself (or even think of stopping herself), she whipped around, pushed him on his back and attacked him.
She manoeuvred her body, swinging her leg over his h*ps to straddle him and before he had a chance to react, she leaned into him, tilted her head and kissed him, hard.
She didn’t even try to be gentle. She was primed and ready for him.
Now.
Her mouth opened, as did his, her tongue darted inside and she moaned just tasting him.
Goddess, even first thing in the morning, just like always, Colin tasted divine.
He, to her extreme pleasure, immediately deepened the kiss
Tearing her mouth away, she realised his hands had settled on her waist. She rained kisses on his eyes, his cheeks, sliding her tongue down the column of his throat to dip it into the space between his jutting collar bones. She felt his hands slide up her sides then in to her back then they separated, one going up between her shoulder blades, one down to cup her bottom, all the while scorching a lazy trail of fire.
She dragged her lips down his chest then she ran her teeth across his nipple while one of her hands went between their bodies to wrap around him and she was thrilled beyond rationality that he was already hard.
She heard his sharp intake of breath.
“Sibyl,” this was a groan but she was beyond responding.
She lurched up, releasing him and running her fingers down his arm, pulling it away from her until she found his hand and as she did she kissed him, again ravenous. She wanted to devour him, her body was on fire for him, and she kissed him hard and hungry as she pressed his hand between her legs, whimpering as his fingers slid against her wet, sensitive flesh.
“I want you, Colin,” she whispered against his mouth, “now.”
The minute he touched her wetness, he understood. Then she watched his lips form a deeply satisfied, even smug, smile. While they did this, he slid a finger inside her.
“Thanks be to the goddess,” she breathed and closed her eyes in rapture as his finger filled her.
At her words, the finger disappeared and he flipped her on her back in one smooth move. Parting her legs expertly, Colin didn’t hesitate, he drove into her.
Sibyl cried out at the ecstasy of it.
Even though it had been only minutes since they started, it felt like she’d waited an eternity for him. She lifted her h*ps to receive his thrusts as she wrapped her arms about his waist, holding onto his tight, muscled behind for dear life, her nails digging in. She buried her face in his neck, tasting him there while one of his arms curled around the top of her head, giving him leverage to pound into her, harder and deeper.
It was glorious.
“Yes,” she purred in his ear. “Harder.” She nipped him there and her h*ps lifted to meet every thrust, each one deeper, sending spirals of desire shooting through her.
He stopped thrusting and started grinding and she caught her breath, ready, right there.
She knew it was going to happen, she knew it was going to be intense, beautiful, like always with Colin, and, right before she exploded, she whispered reverently, “Goddess, Colin, you fit me… perfectly.”
Then she gasped, arched her neck and cried out as everything in the world but the space where their bodies joined was obliterated and she felt the shudders of pleasure course through her with pure, sweet violence.
So consumed was she in her own cl**ax, she missed his but vaguely noted he’d wrapped her legs around his waist in his final moments.