Raiders of the Lost Heart(65)

He removed his lips from her and hovered over her body, one arm on either side of her. Those lustful eyes were staring at him, begging him to take her. Begging him to end the torture that had consumed them for the last decade.

“I want you, too.”

“Where are they?” she asked.

He stepped off the bed and walked over to the table, pulling a condom out of the drawer. Then, standing there, staring at beautiful Corrie, he slowly took off his clothes. Tossing his shirt on the floor, kicking his boots to the side, he removed his pants and boxers and everything else until he stood stark naked in front of her.

Her eyes roamed over him, taking in every inch of his body, before she kneeled on the bed and removed her own clothes. Perfection. All the buildup. All the holding out . . . It had been worth it to be with her in this moment.

She inched toward the edge of the bed, then stepped off, moving closer to him and taking the condom from his hands. With delicate movements, she tore open the wrapper and unfurled the condom onto his aching cock, then backed up onto the bed, opening her legs wide for him. A sight that would be forever imprinted in his mind.

Like a sculptor studying his next subject, he stared at her, taking her in. Memorizing each curve of her body and every wisp of her hair. His own body consumed by the pleasure of gazing upon her.

“Waiting for something?” she purred, her fingertips trailing along her breasts down her impossibly soft skin and toward her opening.

“I’m trying to take my time to make sure I remember this.”

She smiled and propped her body up on one elbow as her other hand traced her sex, her fingers glistening with her own wetness. He had to pull on his cock to relieve the pressure.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you forget.”

He moved toward her, took her hand, and sucked her wetness off her fingers. Then, without any more hesitation, he thrust into her body, both of them simultaneously releasing moans that had clearly agonized them for the last several years. Warm fuzzies swathed his entire being. Not just from the physical pleasure of being inside her or the fact that he hadn’t had sex in a few years. But from the desire seeping from her pores. She wanted him. It warranted repeating: she—Dr. Socorro Mejía—wanted him. And by the sound of her moans and the arch of her back, he satisfied her hunger. Being able to sate a woman like Corrie almost sent Ford over the edge.

“Why does this feel so good?” she asked, writhing underneath him.

He could have asked the same thing. Sure, it had been a while, but God . . . he’d never had sex like this. Sex where every thrust, every brush of friction, released a euphoric surge throughout his body. He smiled at her, then turned his blushing face away.

“What?” she asked through her own smiles.

“I feel like a silly teenager smiling at you. But my God, Corrie, you feel incredible.”

She flashed him a sultry smile before reaching up and pulling his face toward hers for a kiss. Their mouths locked, tongues rolling over each other, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The heat from her body was no match for the fire soaring through his veins, however. Every ounce of him was full with her spirit. Her presence. Every ounce of him wanted nothing more than to prolong this moment.

They twisted and turned until Ford’s back lay flush with the mattress with Corrie perched atop his hips. With long, slow strokes, she rolled her hips against him, her hands steadying herself on his thighs. Like a goddess riding through the sky, her breasts swayed with her movements. He couldn’t help but watch her, admiring her from his position below, taking in every movement. Every wisp of her hair. Every whimper in her throat. Did she have this effect on all men or only Ford?

She leaned over, placing one hand on the side of his head and the other on his chest. Her long locks fell all around them, shrouding his face in her coconut scent, intoxicating him more than he’d already been. She took his hand and placed it on her chest, and he massaged her soft breast, brushing her nipple between the pads of his thumb and index finger. Her delectable moans were pushing him to the limit.

“Ford . . .” she hummed. “Ford, you’re going to make me come.”

As if he needed any further encouragement. With one hand on her taut bud and the other guiding her hips, Ford drove into her until they both cried out in pure ecstasy. And Ford sank into complete and total infatuation.

Corrie Mejía could do anything she wanted with him. Chew him up. Spit him out. Fuck him hard then dispose of him in a dumpster. And he wouldn’t care one bit. Because being with her, even for a moment, was worth any and all devastation that might follow.

Chapter

Fifteen

Just five more. Five more minutes and then I’ll go to my tent.

Five more minutes in the warmth of his bed and with the hum of his deep sleepy breath. Five more minutes to linger in his juniper scent.

At least, Corrie only intended to rest her eyes for five minutes and bask in the after-sex glow. And bask she did. Sex with Ford was better than she’d ever imagined. He knew her body better than any man. Knew what she wanted. Knew how to please her. Perhaps the last several days of penetration-less foreplay had helped him learn his way around her body, but she’d never had such a relaxed, seamless, and pleasurable first time.

Or second time.

Or third.

But so much for her intentions. The early-morning stillness settled over the camp, leaving no doubt, once she flicked open her eyelids, that she’d stayed well past the five intended minutes.