gaining on the cliff of release himself, the lip edge so close, he braced his awareness for the final part of the sex act to culminate after all these years.
Only with her, he thought. It made sense somehow that it was her—
Jo slowed.
Then she stopped.
As she collapsed onto his chest and breathed heavily, he began to pant. Surely it would happen… now…
His hips jerked. His cock spasmed. His hands tightened so much they dug into her pelvic bones.
But no.
Syn remained on the verge, and the pleasure soon soured into pain, until the smallest move she made was like a dagger into his cock, the icy hot agony stabbing his sac.
His female lifted her head. And there was a smile on her face that, under different circumstances, he would have taken great satisfaction in.
The smile didn’t last. As she moved, he winced and hissed.
“Are you okay?” she said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Jo might have been enjoying an amazing post-best-sex-of-her-life glow, but she wasn’t completely out to lunch. Then again, it was so obvious that something was seriously wrong with Syn that she’d have to be knocked out cold not to notice. Underneath her body, he was sitting stone still on the couch, sweat beading his forehead and his upper lip, his chest pumping in short bursts, the veins running down his biceps and into his forearms standing out in sharp relief.
Oh, God, were they going to end up on an episode of Sex Sent Me to the ER?
“What can I do?” she asked.
“Get… off… me…” he gritted.
Pushing up from her knees, she felt his rock-hard erection slip out of her, and as the length bounced on his lower belly, he hissed again and flared his fingers out straight from his hands like they were channeling the pain he was in. And then he just sat there.
“Do you want me to help you–”
“Don’t touch it.” Syn’s eyes were squeezed shut so hard, his whole face wrinkled, his lips pulling off his—
Jo gasped. And it was at that moment that his lids rose up.
As he stared at her, she told herself to get a grip. Those weren’t real fangs, for godsakes.
Cursing under his breath, he seemed to force his features into a semblance of composure. “I just need a minute.”
“Okay, sure.” Moving off the sofa slowly, she grabbed for her clothes. “Take your time.”
Concerned for him and embarrassed by… oh, so much, really… Jo made quick work of pulling on her underwear and her pants—and as she got herself back together, she was very aware of how much he was not moving. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His fingers were now curled into fists, that flex traded in for a tight-knuckled crank. And then there was the breathing.
She looked at his lips, which were now firmly locked in place over his teeth. Maybe she’d imagined those canines?
“Do we need to get you to the ER?”
“What?” he grunted.
“For the Cialis.” Clearly, that was the problem here. “Or the Viagra you took.”
He lifted his head and looked at her myopically. “What?”
“For an erection lasting longer than four hours, you’re supposed to get medical help. It’s on the ads for those pills.” When he still seemed confused, she covered her hand discreetly and pointed downward to what was still very much going on at his hips. “You know…”
Syn re-shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the cushions once more. “I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Listen, you can be honest. I’m not going to judge. Men take these things, I guess, to make sure they can… be at their best.”
The image of that ad with a man and a woman sitting in porcelain tubs and holding hands in front of a sunset made her wonder what in the hell her life was turning into. But then she already knew the answer to that.
And it rhymed with “trapper.”
“I know it hasn’t been hours,” she said, “but you’re so uncomfortable, maybe we should just go get this taken care of?”
As he swallowed with obvious difficulty, his Adam’s apple went up and down like it was having trouble doing its job. “This is just what happens to me.”
Wait, so staying hard wasn’t a problem for him? “Then stop with the pills.”
“What pills?”
As her cell phone started to ring, she went over and took it out of her purse. When she saw who it was, she looked through into the kitchen, to the digital clock on the microwave. You know, just in case her iPhone was wrong about