Tanner's Scheme(111)

“He always has a fallback position,” she murmured. “What’s his fallback this time?”

“Hell,” Tanner suggested, moving to her as he stripped his shirt off.

He was tired of waiting. The scent of her need called out to him, stroked over his senses like vibrant fingers of an electrical charge. Like static. Sensitizing him and reminding of the pleasure he had only ever found with her.

He pulled his boots off behind her chair, released the belt of his jeans as he straightened, and released the snap and zipper as he rounded her seat. By the time he was beside her, she was turning to him, her brown eyes like rich milk chocolate, melting and heating as he stripped the jeans from his legs.

“I should be watching this,” she breathed out as he knelt in front of her and lifted the remote from her hand. “I have to figure out what he’s planning.”

“In a minute you can watch it,” he promised. “The playback works really well on that model. You won’t miss a thing.”

His fingers gripped the bottom of her sweatshirt and lifted, revealing her creamy tummy as she leaned back in the chair, her hands going to his bare shoulders.

Her nails scraped at his flesh, reminding him of a cat’s kneading. Smiling tightly at the thought, he leaned forward and nipped at the skin he revealed, drawing her shirt up and over her br**sts before she lifted her arms and removed it herself.

Her braless br**sts were swollen, the hard tips of her ni**les lifting out to him. They made his mouth water. Made need claw at his balls. But the glimmer of emotion and need clenched at his heart. God, she made him relish every moment that he breathed. He had never felt so alive, so filled with power as he did when she looked at him like that. Like he was the center of her existence at that moment, the forefront of her focus. Like he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.

It hit him then. As her slender fingers eased the material of her sweatpants down her thighs, it slammed into him. He belonged. To someone. For someone. He was a part of a whole, rather than a cog in a community fighting to survive. If he died today, the world would go on without him. If he died today, this woman would always remember him. His touch, his kiss, his warmth as he held her at night. She would be alone. Forsaken by the heat that bound them. Unable to ever love again as she loved at this moment.

And he couldn’t allow that. He would survive for her. And he would make certain she survived for him.

He took the material of the pants from her hands as they cleared her knees and finished removing them before he spread her thighs and stared at the dew-laden curls between them.

She was so wet that her cream glistened on the soft pink folds and silken curls.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered.

“Never,” she whispered. “You make me whole.”

He had to clench his teeth against the emotions that swept through him. She made him whole.

His hands slid up her thighs, then to her hips, pulling her forward as he moved closer. He wanted to worship her. He wanted to show her all the pleasure she gave him. He had every intention of lowering his lips to the sweet essence that eased from her pu**y, but he found himself pressing into her instead.

Her breath caught. He heard it.

Her womb spasmed with pleasure as the head of his c**k snugged inside her. He could smell it. That pleasure. Racing through her, making her wetter as she stared back at him from beneath hooded eyes, her hands wrapped around his wrists as she watched him begin to work his erection inside the sensitive flesh of her heated sex.

Tanner paused there, his eyes closing at the feel of her surrounding that sensitized crest. Beneath the head he could feel the barb throbbing just beneath this skin, preparing to swell, to erect at the point of his release and lock him inside her.

“I love your soft curls,” he whispered as he pressed deeper into her, grimacing at the flexing of her inner muscles, at the tremulous sigh that left her lips. Those soft curls were clinging to his shaft as he retreated, drawing his gaze, holding him mesmerized with the wondrous sight of her response to him. Silky soft cream glistened on the head of his c**k before it disappeared inside her once again.

“’Cause you don’t have any,” she gasped.

“Maybe.” He had to fight to breathe. To keep from taking her hard, fast. To work his c**k inside her with slow, steady thrusts, a little deeper each time, feeling her shift, lift, her legs wrapping around his h*ps as her hands smoothed over his shoulders.

Why had he never taken her like this before? he wondered. In this big overstuffed chair, on his knees before her, watching as each inch of his erection possessed her. It was the most erotic sight of his life.

“Tanner, I’m dying.” She was panting.

“In a minute.”

He knew her need for release was escalating rapidly. Each slow thrust inside her and she was tightening further on him, her inner muscles caressing him, drawing him deeper into the vortex of need that threatened to consume him.

“Now.” She tightened again, flexed, rippled, and he had to grind his teeth to keep from coming for her then and there.

“Naughty Scheme,” he grated out, clenching his teeth to hold back.

But he couldn’t resist moving inside her harder, faster. The pleasure was like a whirlpool sucking him in. His eyes lifted from where he was pressing inside her to meet her gaze. Melting chocolate. That’s what her eyes reminded him of. Hot, rich, glittering with the hunger and need as her hand lifted to his face.