A Taste Of Paradise: Addicted to You. Leslie Kelly

and grabbed his wallet, retrieving a condom. Heather was already working his belt and pants open, and when her soft, cool fingers brushed his cock, he thrust into her grasp. She squeezed him, smoothed her hand over the tip of his erection and then lifted her fingers to her mouth to lick off the moisture. The sight of his seed on her lips was enough to send another gallon of blood racing to his cock. If he couldn’t get inside her this instant, he was gonna go into cardiac arrest.

      Despite his shaking hands, he somehow managed to sheathe himself and stepped toward her. Heather lifted her leg, and he caught it in his grip, pressing her back against the glass. He found his way unerringly to the hot core of her, sinking his cock into her tight pussy with slow deliberation that belied his frantic need.

      He’d dreamed about this too much to rush. He wanted to savor every bit of her. The slowness enabled him to fully appreciate the pleasure every single one of his senses was being bombarded with by the beautiful woman in his arms.

      “Nobody else ever felt this good,” he said, losing himself, inch by inch, in the tight heat of her.

      “I know.”

      “I’ve lain in that bed, dreaming of you, fucking my own fist more times than I can count in the past year.”

      She groaned and squeezed him, deep inside, eliciting a groan from him, too. “I’ll admit, I invested heavily in some toys.”

      He laughed, which was crazy since he was having hot sex with a woman he’d fantasized about for months. But that’s how it was with Heather.

      Suddenly, needing her to hear it, he said, “There hasn’t been anyone else. Not since you.”

      Ten months of celibacy. It hadn’t been intentional...but he suspected his subconscious had known he wouldn’t find satisfaction with anyone else. Not as long as Heather was buried so deeply in his psyche. The months apart had only made her more beautiful, more alluring in his mind. But none of those images and fantasies could compare with the woman in the flesh.

      She looked up at him, those green eyes wide and more than a little surprised at his admission. Nate held his breath, wishing he’d said nothing, because she hadn’t responded in kind.

      It killed him to think of her with anybody else, whether he’d been around or not. He had no claim on her, had in fact hurt her, but he seriously wanted to put his fist through the wall at the very idea that any other man had been where he was now.

      Finally she put him out of his misery. “Same here.”

      He let out a relieved breath. “I realize I didn’t have any reason to expect...”

      “No, you didn’t.” She ran her tongue along his earlobe, biting hard enough to make him wince. “But you may have ruined me for other men.”

      “Same here.”

      “I ruined you for other men?”

      He laughed. “Shut up.”

      “Okay, but only if you shut up, too, and finish what you started.”

      “Yeah,” he said. “Actions are better than words.”

      He lifted her other leg, desperate to find his way a little bit farther into her until he was completely buried. She wrapped her thighs around him, and he gripped her by the hips as he drove even deeper.

      Heather cried out, raking her nails down his spine and squeezing him tightly, inside and out. And, at last, he felt as though he was in the right place again, back where he was supposed to be. The anger, disappointment and frustration of the last ten months fell away and he let himself do nothing but feel.

      In Heather’s body, in Heather’s arms, nothing else mattered.

      He pulled out slowly and thrust in again, greedily taking more as she arched to meet him. Their bodies were slick with sweat. He tightened his grip on her hips, and her eyes flared in excitement. She twisted her fingers in his hair, almost painfully, as hot passion snapped between them.

      Nate tried to maintain control. But the electricity between them sizzled as she began to lose hers. It was too good, too intense, too hot to resist, and he could no longer take it slow and steady.

      “Gonna go hard now.”

      “Do it.”

      That was all the permission he required. Burying his face in her throat, he pulled out of her and then thrust to the hilt. She was mumbling something—Yes, yes, yes—and matching his every movement. Together they thrust wildly, he giving all he had to give, she taking it and begging for more. Until at last he hit the cliff and came with a long, shuddering moan.

      Heather was still holding on, her arms around his neck, her legs around his hips. She kissed his earlobe, traced her tongue down his neck, murmuring soft sounds of satisfaction.

      He wanted nothing more than to walk over to his big bed, toss her onto it and stay there for days. But even now they could hear voices downstairs and outside. A house full of guests was waiting for them, probably already wondering where their host had disappeared to and why he’d been gone so long with the maid of honor.

      “I guess we can’t stay here and do this all night,” he said with a sigh of disappointment.

      “I guess not.”

      He slowly let her down, and she bent to pick up her dress and panties, noticing the glass behind her.

      The color fell out of her face. “Oh, my God, you don’t suppose anybody could have seen us, do you?”

      “Nah, the angle’s wrong.”