Still Lake - Anne Stuart [99]
“Did I hurt you?”
He took her hand and put it back on his cock, wrapping her fingers around its thick length. “No,” he said, moving her hand, showing her what he wanted.
It was sheer torment, exquisite pain, but he had himself under control again, and he could stand it, savor it, the awkward tug of her hand on him.
She moved, and he opened his eyes to see her lean over and kiss the coiled snake on his hip. And then she closed her mouth over the head of his cock, her tongue quicksilver light, tasting him, sucking at him, until he knew he couldn’t hold out a moment longer. He needed to be inside her, now, or he’d fill her hungry mouth with his seed.
He touched her, and she came again at his touch, her mouth pulling at him.
He was beyond gentleness. He shoved her back against the blanket of clothes and moved between her legs.
He went in hard, fast, deep, only barely able to control himself. She wrapped her legs around his, and he reached down and pulled them higher, up around his hips, so that he was deeper still, and she was tight, clasping, milking him with the power of her climax, which was almost sweetly painful.
He’d had a vain hope that he could hold out, but he was past any chance of self-control, and he followed her, filling her, spilling deep inside her before collapsing on top of her.
He wasn’t sure when he realized what he’d done. The condom lay forgotten, unused. The feel of her mouth on him had wiped the last vestiges of rational thought from his brain, and he hadn’t remembered.
“Shit,” he muttered. It was the first time he’d forgotten in fifteen years. The woman beneath him made him as randy and stupid as a teenage boy. “Shit,” he said again.
“Please, don’t” came her weary voice. “It’s really disheartening to have your reaction to making love to me always be the word ‘shit.’ Couldn’t you go for something a bit more positive, like ‘well, that was pleasant,’ instead of cursing?”
He was still inside her, still partially erect. Or maybe he was getting hard all over again. Anything was possible with this witchy woman.
“Shucks, we may just have to do it again.” And he bumped his hips against hers, so she could feel his cock still hard inside her.
Her eyes widened in the moonlight. “That’s not supposed to happen.”
“Says you from your vast experience. Trust me, with you and me all things are possible when it comes to making love.”
“I thought it was fucking.”
He had to kiss her. The word sounded absurd coming from her soft mouth, but then, she’d shown herself to be surprisingly adaptable with that mouth. He kissed her, and he felt an answering shimmer of response from deep inside her.
He almost said “shit” again, but decided to spare her. Besides, he had more important things on his mind right then.
He took his sweet time, and nothing would make him rush it, not her breathless requests, her choked begging. He got her to straddle him, and she arched over him like a magnificent warrior goddess, and this time when she came she couldn’t stop crying, collapsing on top of him, her limp body racked by hoarse sobs.
His usual style with crying women was to beat a hasty retreat until they got over it. With Sophie he simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his body, and stroked her hair until the sobs died away and she fell asleep.
It was a hell of a place to sleep, Griffin thought lazily. A hell of a place to have sex. Right now they could be in his comfortable bed back at the cottage, not lying on a hard surface in the middle of the woods, buck naked.
He ought to wake her, drag her back to the cottage to finish the night in comfort. But he couldn’t move. Didn’t want to move. The smell of the lake and the pine trees and the cool mountain air surrounded him, and for the first time in twenty years he was at peace.
With the hard wood of the table hurting his back, with Sophie’s hair tickling his nose, with a mosquito biting his butt, he felt almost…happy.
He wasn’t used to it, he didn’t trust it. But for right now he had no