down completely until I felt his balls on my ass before I lifted and repeated the motion. His hands supported me the entire way, and when I picked up the speed, he took the weight of me, helping me bounce on that glorious cock of his.
“Jesus Christ.” His eyes rolled back, and I knew he was doing everything he could not to come.
I lowered down gently to my knees, still riding him, and moved his hands to grab my tits.
“That’s not helping,” he groaned, but his eyes shot open, watching in wonder as my tits bounced in his hands.
“Not yet,” I warned, and then I reached between my legs, my entire body trembling when my fingers brushed over my clit. I was so wet, so fucking close that just the first touch had the blood tingling in every vein.
I rubbed slow circles at first, gyrating my hips, feeling his hands as they rolled over my nipples. Then, I worked my clit harder, faster, leaning back to feel him as deep as I could.
And with another warning from Makoa that he was going to come, I let go.
Moans and cries of pleasure ripped from my throat as the blood coursed through me, hot and electric, numbness invading every centimeter of my being. It was animalistic, the way I rode him in those last moments, with me coming on his cock and him pulsing out his own release inside the condom. Those little pulses only fueled my orgasm to last even longer, and by the time we were both spent, I collapsed on top of him, our bodies slick where they met.
Fucking hell.
I just laid there, panting, eyes closed as Makoa ran his fingers through my hair. He was still inside me, slowly growing soft, and with what felt like every ounce of effort I had left, I lifted my head to look at him.
“We didn’t even make it to the bed.”
Makoa laughed, brushing the hair from my face before he leaned up to kiss me, long and soft, maybe even a little too sweet for my taste.
But with him?
It didn’t feel so weird.
“Well, let’s fix that.”
Makoa was up off the floor before I could register to do the same, and he picked me up easily, cradling me in his arms and walking me back through his condo to his bedroom. He laid me down in the plush, cool sheets, and I let out a sigh as he carefully removed my heels, one by one, letting them fall to the floor.
“Wow,” I said, stretching out and wiggling my freshlyfreed toes. I didn’t have to look to know I had blisters from the rain and the straps. “These sheets are what happen when velvet and silk have a baby.”
Makoa laughed.
“Seriously. Come here. This is heaven.”
“No, being inside you was heaven,” he argued, taking the spot next to me before he rolled over to perch his head on one arm. The other drew circles on my stomach, and I purred like a kitten at the touch.
For a long while, we lay just like that, the only sound that of the city still alive outside in the distance. It was dark, save for the city lights outside the windows and the few we’d managed to flick on in the main living area streaming through the hallway.
I watched Makoa’s eyes as they roamed over me, like he was a painter studying me for his next project. His fingers followed where his eyes were, and I wondered if he was memorizing every inch.
Maybe it was the rain, the way he’d looked running in it, the way he’d tried to shield me from it, the way he’d watched me in wonder when I’d laughed once we safely made it inside that restaurant. Maybe it was how easy the conversation flowed through dinner, or how making his condo a home was the only thing I could focus on, or how every time I looked at him I had a new question to ask, and every time he looked at me, I felt like the only woman in the world. Maybe it was how he’d called me his lady, and as cheesy as it was, it’d done something to my stomach, to my heart, maybe even to my soul.
Maybe it was Moulin Rouge!, the music and lights and colors. Maybe it was Satine’s words in my ear, whispering, taunting.
Why else live if not for love?
I could blame a million different things for the way my heart beat loud in my