All He Needs
Page 45

 C.C. Gibbs

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It hit him like a stun gun.
He jerked back and hung suspended above her, every muscle tense. “Oh fuck.” He shook his head, blinked as though returning to the world.
Kate had tears in her eyes.
“Oh Christ,” he said. “I’ll stop. I can stop.”
“It’s all right.” It was amazing how she was willing to relinquish her self-respect to please him, how the chemistry, the physical attraction, his body, had become her happiness and curse. Judgment suspended, her world. “You surprised me, that’s all.”
But she winced as he accidentally shifted positions and he looked at her, his gaze brooding. “I’m such an asshole.” He blew the hair out of his eyes. “I have no fucking control with you.” But his erection swelled and expanded independent of his remorse and he shot a flickering glance downward. “Seriously, you should kick the shit out of him.”
“I don’t know,” she said, her heart pounding, unarmed in a battle she couldn’t win. “He has been really good to me.”
Dominic looked up, stared at her as though he were trying to decipher the chaos of the universe, as if only she could stabilize the dangerous drift into the abyss. “And?” A whisper of a question, soft as silk, warm, tender, the blue of his eyes without the habitual arrogance.
“And I need you inside me, if I’m saying that properly?”
His smile was swift. “Very properly. Thank you.”
“And I’m fine, really.” She shifted slightly to try to accommodate his size, wanting to please him for any number of reasons: for the unforgettable pleasure he offered in and out of bed, for the reward of his smile, for his moments of tenderness, for the really incredible fucks—let’s not forget those.
“You sure?” Other than his surging dick, he was motionless.
Gazing up she saw the raw worry in his eyes. “Maybe slow it down a little.”
He nodded. “I can do that.” He grinned. “I’m not fucking fourteen. I can do it. But let me deal with this zipper first so it doesn’t rip your skin.” Alternating impressive one-armed push-ups as he lay between her legs, he peeled himself out of his jeans and boxers, kicked them away, then took her hand, closed her fingers into a fist, and placed it against his chest. “Punch me here if I’m hurting you. I’ll stop. Okay?”
“Yup.”
“Good to go?”
Without waiting for an answer, he entered her with excruciating slowness and an economy of movement thanks to muscles honed to impeccable standards of strength. And when, after languorous, endless moments of sumptuous friction and snug, velvety yielding, he reached the ultimate, maximum depth, she was panting and quivering.
“Better?” he whispered.
Kate nodded. Luckily she didn’t have breath to speak or she might have told him she loved him because she was drugged with bliss, glowing with love and on fire. Everything below her skin was heated, stirring, a tempest in her blood, the feel of him inside her, filling her completely, melting her heart, making her tremble. She looked up to see his eyes fixed on her, clear blue, a worry line between his brows. “You know what to do if I’m hurting you. Right?”
“Yes.” A barely audible whisper.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry as hell I did.”
How could he talk so calmly, like he was ordering a coffee? “I know,” she said half under her breath, so he had to lean in to hear her.
“I want you”—his nostrils flared—“way too fucking much. Shut me down if—”
She slid her finger over his mouth.
He grinned. “Done talking?”
She nodded, ran her hands down his arms, and softly sighed as he withdrew with a fluid indolence.
Then he paused at the extremity of his backstroke and murmured, light and teasing, “What if I make you wait?”
“Don’t you dare.” She grabbed his hips hard.
He didn’t move; she was slippery wet now, drenched, desperate. “Just for the record,” he said gruffly, “you fuck only me. Right?”
Frantic to feel him, she breathlessly agreed. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Only you, Dominic! For God’s sake, Dominic, I don’t want anyone else!”
His monstrous jealousy assuaged by her fierce reply, he smiled. “That’s what I want to hear, baby.” Pushing back in, unhurried, his mouth on hers, breathing her in, his dick swelling larger and harder as he penetrated more deeply, he came to rest at last where everything becomes meaningless except for the unimaginable pleasure.
Then with masterful patience, he waited motionless inside her as her body pulsed and throbbed around him, as her senses leveraged themselves up to a seething frenzy with the speed and violence he’d come to recognize. His Katherine was never cool and dispassionate, always wildly unbridled. And when he began slowly moving, in and out, smoothly, carefully, watching her keenly for any sign of discomfort, maneuvering his dick with practiced versatility into all the right places, just hard enough to make her sigh or groan, concentrating on her G-spot nerves, meeting her undulating hips with practiced skill, he felt a deep-seated pleasure. As if she belonged here in his private hermitage.
Kate felt as though she were flushed with wonder, filled with joy, every heartbeat vibrating with love, her senses racing toward delirium thanks to Dominic’s sweet, unselfish indulgence. It was his genius and talent to be generous like now… like that—oh God. She sank her nails into his arms as that first unquestionable ripple slid up her throbbing sex; she sucked in her breath, shut her eyes, and went still.