When he hesitated, she shifted and he felt her hand on top of his own. She was the one who brought him to her breast—
The groan she let out was hot as hell, but he reined in his lust. Which was easy to do as he learned her contours, the t-shirt so thin, the soft fabric a second skin. As he cupped her, he circled her nipple with his thumb, and she was both tender and taut under his touch, the weight of her tantalizing, that arousal of hers ramping up as he caressed her… and then he couldn’t wait anymore. He had to explore with his mouth. Moving down onto her neck, he gritted his molars to keep from raking his fangs across her jugular on his way to where he wanted to be.
When he was in between her breasts, he trailed kisses up one of the rises. Her nipple was tight and made for his mouth, and even though he wanted to tease her, tease himself, he failed on that. Sucking her in through the shirt, he nursed at her, tugging, pulling, as he continued to stroke the other side with his dagger hand.
She was writhing beneath him now, restless, starved. And he was so there with her, his cock pounding between his legs, so desperate to get into her that he started to shake with need. He told himself he was going to be able to make it good for her and last longer than the first penetration—but he wasn’t sure about that. The good news? He was going to be ready for another round immediately. Another three or four. A dozen.
He had never been like this for any other female or woman.
Ever.
“I need you…” she groaned as she arched against him.
The sight of her breasts, so peaked under that thin shirt, undulating up to his mouth, was almost enough to make him come, and he forgot any kind of take-his-time as her hands left his shoulders and went in between their bodies, to the waistband of her jeans.
“I can do that.” He brushed her fingers away. “Let me.”
He was fast with the button, faster with the zipper, and then he was hooking his thumbs and drawing the Levi’s down, down, down. Her panties were simple and blue—and ridiculously, he noted that they matched the color of the sofa. He left them in place.
He had plans for them.
She kicked off her shoes and he took her socks off along with the jeans in a coordinated move that, in his mind, he gave himself a gold medal for. Then he wasn’t thinking much. Except for his hair-trigger instincts, which continued to monitor the house above them and the cellar around them, he was all about his female.
He felt like the only thing a piece of shit like him could do for a woman like her was give her pleasure.
And that was one thing he would not fail.
His lips drifted down onto her stomach, and when he got to the top edge of her underwear, he took his tongue and licked under them. Then he moved over to the side of her hip. The panties were kept in place by banding that had “Calvin Klein” on it, and he looked up at her. On the far side of her breasts, she was watching him, her eyes blazing, her mouth open. With every hard, panting breath she took, her nipples shifted under the shirt, under the wet spot where his mouth had been on her.
Fucking hell. He was so sexed up.
Baring his fangs, he snagged the elastic and snapped it in half. Then he did the same with the other side.
Her knees tightened on him, her thighs flexing.
Taking the free flap that covered her core between his teeth, he drew it off… and there she was. Glistening, swollen, begging for him.
He wanted to go down on her, but he was on the verge of ejaculating as it was—and call him sentimental, but he wanted to come inside of her first. Not into her sweatpants.
Rising up from her, he put his hands to the bulge at the front of his hips. Then he lowered the waistband. His cock broke out of confinement, all but exploding free, and when she saw his length and his girth, her fingernails bit into her own thighs.
The sight of her spreading herself even farther was what did it.
Palming his erection, he lunged forward and ran his head up and down her hot, slick flesh. As she cried out and squeezed her eyes shut, she jerked back on the cushions and her neck strained. Then she pulled her knees up.
Balz drove into her with one thrust of his hips, and as much as he wanted to watch her, his lids slammed down. Good thing. He was liable to pop his eyeballs out of their sockets if he watched himself go in and out of her.
She was tight and she was fire and she was wet.
His body took over, one hand locking on her hip, the other grabbing on to the arm of the couch. He started to pump, forward and back, and he had to see her, he had to look—
Erika was sprawled under him, her head rocking to the beat of his thrusts, her torso straining, her mouth open as she hauled air in like she was on a sprint. With a flush on her cheeks and the blood pulsing in her jugular vein, he knew she was getting close, so close.