Hard and Fast (15 page)

There was no time, no awareness of the room, cold or hot, dark or light, just the feel of him and her taut, overstimulated body. There was just him, just his mouth, his hands, his breathing, his ability to strip away all her thoughts until she was empty except for the acute pleasure, all her focus on one spot, one spot only. The tightness was building in her again and she quieted down, feeling it sneaking up on her, wanting to reach for it, wanting to fall over into that explosion, but Ty pulled away abruptly and eased her legs to the ground.

She blinked at him. Holy shit. He had done it again, and she couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. “I was about to come.”

“I know.” He reached for her hand and stood up. “Come here. Wrap your legs around my waist.”

“I can’t. My legs don’t work.” She wasn’t lying. Her entire body felt boneless, and her calves were shaking from the strain they’d been placed under. Her inner thighs pulsed and ached in incompletion.

He didn’t bother to argue with her. He just swung her up into his arms with more urgency than gentleness and marched over to the bed. Imogen held on with what little strength she had left while he leaned over and yanked off the duvet one-handed, revealing cocoa-colored sheets, which he deposited her on. She was on her back, sideways on the bed, and he grabbed her knees and yanked her down so that her legs dangled over the side. He stepped in between her knees and pushed inside her.

She loved that moment of first impact, when a man entered her and her entire body moaned and sighed and accepted him, and with Ty, it was even more so. It was primal, possessive, the way he gave that hard thrust, his arms on either side of her, his expression fierce and urgent. Ty was quiet, his lips tightly pressed together, but Imogen couldn’t contain her pleasure as he filled her with steady strokes, and she moaned, letting her legs fall farther apart. Wrapping her arms around him, she rested her hands on his back and felt the movement of his muscles as he worked hard pumping in and out of her.

Then he shifted slightly and hit a spot that had her soft caresses turning into hard, nail-scraping grabs as she held her hands in place. Each time he withdrew, his body moved back as well, sending his back into her grip, and she knew she was tearing up his skin, but she didn’t care. There should be evidence tomorrow, scratches and bruises to show how hot and hard they had come together. “Oh, yes, right there,” she moaned.

“You like that?” he asked, staring down at her with satisfaction.

“Yes. Oh, God, yes, please. Please.” He had found an angle that nudged her G spot, and Imogen almost forgot to breathe as he hit her over and over.

She could feel the fullness of him, feel the throb, his growing loss of control, and she raised her hips, anticipating both her orgasm and his. But Ty yanked back all the way out of her, panting, and dropped his mouth to her. Imogen didn’t even have time to protest before she was caught by the current and dragged under to the different kind of ecstasy his tongue offered. Raising her arms over her head, she gripped the sheet and squirmed as he tortured her with long licks over her clitoris. It was almost too much, her body sensitive and taut, her legs moving restlessly, feet finding the bed rail to rest on for a better grip, a way to hold herself in place, to ground her under his assault.

When he sucked her clitoris, she arched up off the bed, a gasp flying out of her mouth, but Ty didn’t let her stay up. With his hand on her chest, he pushed her back down, moved up, and entered her again.

“Ohmigod,” she managed, before she lost the ability to speak.

Then there was nothing, no thought, no words, no anything but the feel of him deep inside her, taking her, their bodies colliding and slapping. Imogen’s own excitement grew hotter still when Ty broke his silence and began to let out a grunt of pleasure with each stroke. It was a thrilling, satisfying sound and she dug her nails deeper into his back, needing to hold on, needing to feel him.

Ty pulled out yet again, his movements fast and jerky, and Imogen sucked in her breath at the loss. “No, Ty! Please . . .”

His mouth was on her again and all the logic she had been born with, all her ability to reason and rationalize, completely disappeared. She disintegrated into an insensible, babbling mass of nerve endings, moan after moan emerging as her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms fell to the bed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could only enjoy an ecstasy so acute it was nearly painful.

She didn’t know if it was a minute or ten before he lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal, and entered her again. This time, she was too insane with want, too close. He stroked once and she felt it rising inside her. When he stroked a second time, harder, her orgasm burst, hot and explosive, from deep inside her, and she yelled out—a warning, a triumph, she wasn’t sure—but she wanted him to know that this was it, this was the best orgasm she’d ever had. Ever. Ever, ever.

“That’s it,” he said, smoothing her hair off her forehead, then clutching a handful hard enough that her head tilted. “Come for me, babe.”

“I am.” She was. She liked the edgy roughness of his grip, the way he held his rhythm while her body shuddered and convulsed under and around him. The pulse inside was tight and strong, the volume, the intensity, the pleasure overwhelming and wonderful and satiating all at once.

But the best moment of all came while she was still feeling the last vestiges of her own orgasm. She watched Ty as his eyes drifted half-closed, his mouth opened, his erection paused inside her, pulsing, then his orgasm joined hers, his shouts mingling with hers, their bodies tight and connected in shuddering, mind-shattering passion.

It was amazing, to feel him coming inside her, and Imogen smiled up at him with a little laugh as they both reached the end and Ty went still.

“Whoa.” He smiled back at her, turning his head to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder. “Told you you’re one smoking hot woman, Emma Jean.”

“I have no complaints about you either,” she said, enjoying lying flat on her back, his weight heavy and appealing on her, his penis still embedded inside her.

“No?” He kissed her, finishing it off with a nip at her bottom lip. “Not even the fact that I kept you from coming?”

Imogen felt a little aftershock in her vagina from his words and the sensation of his teeth toying with her mouth. “While that was irritating at the time, I see in hindsight that you had a master plan. And I appreciate your willingness to look at the big picture.”

“It was definitely meant to benefit you.”

“It did, thank you.” She raised her hips, wanting to feel that hard hit from him again, even as she knew she was completely satisfied. He just felt so good.

He groaned. “God, you’re killing me.”

Pulling out of her, Ty moved around on the bed until he was in a proper sleep position. “Come here, babe.”

He reached for her, and after Imogen managed to crawl up the bed, he tucked her into his side, his arm around her. He yanked up the covers over them, then let out a mighty yawn.

Imogen had wondered how they would address the sleeping-over issue, if he would want that or not, but his actions were fairly clear that he intended for her to stay, and she was warm and satisfied and sleepy, and her head on his chest felt wonderful. She didn’t feel inclined to go anywhere at the moment.

“Ty?”

“Hmmm?” His eyes were closed and his breathing was already evening out.

“Never mind.” She had been about to ask something phenomenally stupid, like if he had liked it, or if he thought she was sexy. Questions that stemmed from insecurity and had no business being spoken out loud. If she were logical about it, she would recognize that he had clearly enjoyed himself, and that he must find her at least marginally attractive and sexually appealing to devote the kind of time and energy to it that he had.

She didn’t need verbal confirmation from him.

“Alright, good night,” he said, his words a little slurred. “But before I pass out, I want you to know that you’re the hottest biscuit this side of the gravy boat.”

Imogen wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, but it was definitely a compliment, and she recognized a warm and fuzzy feeling blooming in her at his unprompted reassurance. She was about to respond when he gave her ass a little smack.

Startled, she looked up at him. But he was already asleep. Obviously the ass pat had taken every last ounce of energy reserve from him.

Snuggling in closer with a silly grin on her face, Imogen stole his body heat and joined him in sleep.

 

 

 

TY woke up the best way possible—exhausted, with stiff muscles and a naked Imogen draped across him. He had always been the kind to snap awake, so as soon as his eyes opened, he was alert and aware that the sun was creeping up outside. The candles he had stupidly left burning had snuffed out while they were sleeping and the room was dim, but full light would be streaming in his windows in another half hour. Imogen was still out cold, her breathing soft and steady, her fingers twitching on his shoulder.

He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he shifted a little. She had been everything he could have hoped for and then some. Sex with her had been . . . wow. Amazing. Off the chain. Mouthwatering. Hot and exciting and damn satisfying. She had been agreeable and eager, very vocal and very excited, all things he really appreciated. Hell, things he craved. He could admit it, he liked to dominate just a little in the bedroom, and she hadn’t fought him on that. In fact, he thought she’d gotten off on it.

Shifting again, Ty tried to get more comfortable. He was sweating his balls off from both his thoughts and Imogen blanketed all across him, one of her legs slung over the top of his. It was a funny thing, his attraction to her. She really wasn’t the type he’d ever gone for before. But it was working for him, and he could smugly say it clearly worked for her, too, so there was no reason to worry about the why at the moment. Not when he had better things to do.

Kicking at the covers, he sighed with relief when he succeeded in moving them down their legs and a waft of fresh, cool air hit his overheated body. Imogen whimpered and clutched tighter to him, wiggling so that the warmth of her inner thighs caressed his leg. Ty was instantly hard. Moving his hand lightly down her back, he drew a finger down the seam of her backside and lower still until he found her sex, nicely spread for him because of her leg flopped over his. He stroked inside her, slowly, soothing her with a kiss on her cheek when she made a noise in the back of her throat.

As he moved his finger gently, in no hurry, just enjoying the feel of her soft and moist inside, her body responded by flooding him with sweet wetness. Her hips moved a little and her eyes fluttered open.

“What . . .” she asked, expression sleepy and confused. “Ty? What is . . . ooohh.”

“Good morning,” he said and kissed her open mouth.

“I thought I was having a sex dream,” she said. “But you really are finger-fucking me, aren’t you? That is the correct term for it, isn’t it?”

His cock throbbed at her matter-of-fact words. “Yep and yep. I thought this was a better way to wake you up than an alarm clock.”

“I concur.”

Removing his finger, Ty grabbed her by the waist and hauled her all the way on top of him, nestling her mound right on top of his erection. He thought she would take the hint what he wanted her to do, but Imogen just lay on him like a limp noodle, making soft sighs that sounded suspiciously like she might actually fall back asleep.

“Ride my cock, babe,” he urged her, moving his hips to encourage her.

“Too sleepy. After coffee I can move, but not before.” She yawned into his shoulder.

So she was one of those, groggy and slow to rouse. He could sympathize but he was well aware that he had to leave his house in probably less than two hours and that he needed to eat breakfast and shower. He wasn’t going to Martinsville without making love to Imogen one more time, and she was just going to have to deal with that.

He knew the surefire way to wake her sexy little ass up. Even though she was deadweight, she was still a tiny little thing, and it wasn’t difficult for him to haul her up the length of him.

“What are you doing?” she mumbled, flattening her palms on the bed to brace herself.

“Sit up,” he demanded.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She gave a soft laugh and dragged herself to a sitting position on his chest, her eyes half-closed, heavy with sleep, her shoulders slumped, skin pink, and hair messy and tousled.

Damn, she was so gorgeous. Ty reached out and stroked her breasts, her pink nipples.

“Mr. Checkered Flag,” she said in amusement. “So bossy. So . . .” She sucked in her breath when he pulled her whole body forward, settling her right onto his mouth. “Ahhh . . . so smart. So right.”

God, he liked the sound of that. Her words had him throbbing, and he gripped her hips and ate at her, sliding his tongue up and down and tasting her tangy sweetness. Imogen had grabbed the headboard and her head had snapped back. She was making delightful little mewling sounds in the back of her throat that spurred him on.

He could do this to her all day, just licking and sucking and tasting her arousal, moving his tongue over her most intimate avenue, feeding his own desire with hers. But after a few delightful minutes, Imogen shifted.

“Where are you going?” he asked her.

“I have an idea.”

She still looked sleepy as she turned and Ty had no idea what she was going to suggest. He couldn’t always predict the direction Imogen’s mind moved in. But he figured it out when she reached for his cock.

“Damn fine idea, babe.” He lifted her leg over his chest so that he could have full access to her again, and he was flicking his tongue over her again at the exact moment her mouth closed around him.