More Than Want You
Page 11

 Shayla Black

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“You’re so damn beautiful. I feel like the luckiest bastard in the world right now.”
It probably sounds trite, like something a horny guy says to the girl he’s hoping to nail. But I’m serious. I’ve taken gorgeous women to bed, so I’d know. I don’t think Keeley would fit into any conventional definition of beauty, but there’s something about her. It’s as if I can see her soul just by looking into her eyes. I’m sure that sounds stupid. It’s new to me, that’s for damn sure. Keeley said earlier that she’s an open book. I believe her. She looks open to me in every way—eyes raised to my stare, lips parted, posture unguarded, legs spread. She is a woman giving her all to the man standing before her without hesitation or reservation.
I drag in a sharp breath as I watch her, feeling primal, possessive. My blood pounds. There’s something inside my chest that’s feeling soft like a marshmallow the longer I stare at her. I’ve never felt anything like this. I don’t welcome the sensation.
But I don’t have any control over it.
Looking back, that should have been my first clue that she would have the power to destroy me.
“I’m glad,” she whispers. “Aren’t you going to touch me?”
Definitely. Where the hell do I start? Every part of her demands my attention. She looks soft all over, like she’ll be a delight to my fingertips from tousled hair to toes. My mouth waters at the sight of her pert nipples. Peachy-pink and perfectly symmetrical, they’re stunning—like the rest of her. Her ivory flesh cascades down to a torso that tells me she’s healthy but not a slave to the gym. The night shields the secrets of her pussy. I know she’s bare, but I want details I can’t see while she’s shrouded in shadow. Even more, I smell her.
And I’m speechless. Good thing Keeley wants action, not words.
I manage a jerky nod, then all but tear away my belt buckle. Afterward, I unsnap the button. My zipper falls next. I fish the condom from my pocket. These interminable moments I can’t touch her are pure torture, but I finally manage to shove my clothes aside and slide the latex down my cock. It’s throbbing in time with the rapid beat of my heart. Gong, gong, gong. The sensations are like some euphoric high. I haven’t touched drugs since I was a punk-ass kid rebelling against my dad, but this is more potent. Right now, she has me by the balls without laying a hand on me.
This craving for her will go away after the orgasm, right?
“Maxon?”
I give her a rough nod and step closer. “With you.”
“No, you’re near me.” She brushes a hand up my thigh and caresses her way up my ass, pulling me closer. “You’re not with me yet.”

Jesus.
“Good point.” I swallow, holding myself back for another moment so I can warn her. “This may move fast.”
“Thank god.”
With two words, she seals her fate. Well, stripping naked and begging me to touch her already ensured I would spend the night inside her, but knowing she’s as ready as I am to unleash this storm brewing between us is heady.
With one hand, I fist her hair and tug, aligning her lips under mine. With the other, I grip her thigh and lift it above my hip. Our lips brush as the head of my erection nestles against her slick, soft opening. I look down at Keeley. She’s breathless, waiting, spellbound. God, I want to give her the world, the stars—whatever she wants…except a plane ticket back to Phoenix.
“Sunshine,” I groan before I swoop down and plunge into her mouth while I thrust forward into the tight clasp of her body.
Gliding through her is so smooth, like silicone over glass.
Suddenly, I’m submerged inside her. She fits around me like a perfectly tailored suit. I taste the wine on her breath as I take her tongue. I feel the softness of her body as she rises up to meet me. I see the pleasure rip across her face as I brace myself on the big stone behind her and sink my last inch deep.
I ease back—all the way to the weeping tip of my shaft—then I shove my way inside her again. She undulates beneath me in a sensual ripple of her body and lies back farther, opens herself to me wider.
Desire sucks my sanity clear from my brain. I descend into a haze of arousal, where I’m compelled to meld myself to her. I have no thoughts that aren’t of the scent of her blending with me, wrapped in the ocean salt. I have no wants that aren’t steeped in delving my way deeper into her body and making sure I’ve touched every possible part of her.
I shift the angle of my head and fuse our lips together once more. I drink in more of her as I sink into her again. And again.
She breaks the kiss with a gasp and falls back on her elbows, head tossed back. “Maxon…”
Her breasts fill my vision. I lick my way up the side of one. I want to take her nipple in my mouth, roll it on my tongue. They look taut and perfect. They’re under-loved, which is definitely a failing on my part I intend to rectify soon. But at the moment, I’m too busy hovering above Keeley and watching her face as I fill her up in a rhythm that picks up speed with every thrust.
“What do you need, sunshine?” I manage to grind the words out. If I’m hurting her, I have to know. Otherwise…I’m not sure much is stopping this pleasure train.
“I’m close.” Her words sound strained.
Thank god. I’m on the edge, too.
She peppers kisses up and down my arms. It’s the only part of me she can reach in this position. So she drags her lips up the sensitive inside crook of my elbow, nipping at me with her teeth. An electric arc races through me as she plucks at my skin and moans.
Then she thrusts a hand between her legs. I feel her manipulating her clit with her fingers. It’s something I’d be more than happy to do to her myself—if I wasn’t using my hands to hold my body upright to prevent a full-on face plant into the rocks.
Why did I think sex right here was a good idea?
Next time—and there will be one—I’ll make sure I can touch every part of her and hurtle her into ecstasy a few times. After the discomfort of the beachcapade, I owe her a few stellar orgasms.
Despite the fact I can’t get a hand free to fondle her where I’d like to, she manages to do a great job on her own. Her moans turn breathy, high-pitched, almost panicked. She clamps down on me. I’m on fire. She’s going to make it to the finish line before me…but it’s going to be a damn close race.