Delaney

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I want him naked, too. Is that so much for a woman to ask? I think not.

So I tell him, and he strips off his jeans and boxer briefs, his thick cock jutting proudly against his hard belly. I’m not ashamed to say my mouth waters when I see it. God, I love his dick. I do. I just fucking do. This man has been my weakness. But he’s my strength, too. He makes me feel amazing, and he takes me as I am. He doesn’t just want part of me—he wants all of me.

The same way I want him.

But I also want this wig off my head, so I yank it free and toss the sapphire hair to the edge of the bed.

“I probably have bed head or wig head,” I joke.

“It looks hot.”

I reach down to unzip the boots. “Sorry, handsome. The boots need to go now.”

“I can live with that. This time,” he says as he lies down on the white covers, looking like sin come to life. As I straddle him, I brush my palms along his pecs to his abs, then to his beautiful cock.

“Your magic cock,” I murmur.

He grins. “It’s casting a spell on you.”

I laugh, tossing back my head. “So does that enchanted tongue of yours.”

He sticks out his tongue and flicks it around, and I spend more time touching him. His body is so stunning. So strong and toned. I travel back up and run my hands along his muscled arms and his big biceps.

He nods and pats his chest. “C’mon. Give me some more.” He sits up, grabs me by the hips, then pulls me higher on him.

“But I was going to admire you.”

He shakes his head. “I’m a greedy motherfucker. I need your sweetness again. Now stop stalling, climb up, and fuck my face like there’s no tomorrow.”

A white-hot charge streaks through me, twisting and curling. I heat up everywhere as I climb over his face and sink down.

My body goes up in flames as I rock against his tongue. As I glide against his lips. As I grind and dip against his face.

He grips my hips tightly.

I moan my pleasure as I let my head fall back, my hair sliding down my spine. This man drives me wild. This man adores me. This man knows how to take me higher and higher.

I moan so loud I’m sure it’s criminal. I’m not ashamed, though, to be so vocal. I’m turned on, and I’m in love again. Love and sex and second chances have become the world to me. All those thoughts flood my brain, and then the pleasure takes over and I’m nothing but sheer bliss, riding him to the edge.

“I’m so close.”

And that drives him crazy. I feel him go faster, and then I’m aware of movement behind me. I turn my head, open my eyes, and find he’s only using one hand to hold me, because the other? Dear God. It’s between his legs. He’s got his fist curled around his cock, and he’s stroking. Rough, hard, needy strokes. The sight of him like that is a detonation.

His need for relief, his need to touch himself while he gives me pleasure—it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever witnessed.

Another orgasm blasts through me, rocketing through my body, blotting out the world. Everything goes dark and black and wonderful.

Intimacy was never my strong suit. It’s the bedfellow of trust, and that’s a tough one for me, too. That’s why oral sex was something I didn’t rush to try. To me, it’s even closer than intercourse. It’s the ultimate intimacy. To let go and give in.

All that went against my instincts.

But with Tyler, when we were younger, I was ready to try. Damn good thing, too, because I quickly learned I did not want to miss out on that special item on the menu. I took as much as I could get. I was voracious. Easily, it became a daily practice.

Now, as I float down from the clouds, I’m ready to beg for it every day again.

But I also want something else, right this second. I want another form of closeness. I want as much from this man as I can take. My appetite is endless.

I want him bare.

As I slide down his body, nearing his cock, I meet his eyes. They blaze with desire, heating up even more as I rub myself against the head of his dick. God, he feels so incredibly good that sparks fly across my whole body. “I’m on the pill,” I say, my breath coming fast as I move against him, wanting to take him into me right now. “Are you safe?”

He swallows and rasps out a scratchy yes.

I sink down on him.

Trembles. Everywhere. Across my entire body.

“Delaney,” he moans, and I can hear the sheer pleasure in every syllable of my name. His hands dart out to clasp around my hips. “You feel . . .”

I nod as I breathe out, a long, lingering breath that shudders through me. “I know . . . It’s so good.”

He pushes up into me, filling me. The waves crash over me once more. Every stroke, every second—it’s all my fantasies and more. Because it’s real, achingly real, as I ride this man.

This man I loved madly once before.

This man I’ve fallen in love with once again.

“Look at you. Fucking me again. Your sweet little body taking me deep, my sexy angel,” he says, and I shiver from his dirty words. “This is where I want to be. Buried the fuck inside my woman. You’re mine, Delaney. You need to know that.”

I nod, my breath coming faster as I rock up and down on him. “I do know that. I swear.”

“Not letting you go. Not this time. Need you with me.”

“Don’t let me go,” I say on a whimper.

He pulses inside me, and he slides me up and down on his erection. “Love the way you move on me. Love how you want to fuck me so hard.”

My body says thank you again and again, because this is the best high, the greatest buzz as I rise up, then slam back down. Tremors roll through me, and I swear I’m vibrating. Tyler’s eyes squeeze shut, and he grips me so hard, it nearly hurts. When he opens his eyes, they’re blazing. His voice is demanding. “On your back. Now.”

In seconds, he’s flipped me flat, hiked up my legs, and draped them over his shoulders. I can barely move, so I surrender to him.

“Fuck me,” I moan, as he begins to punch his hips. A bead of sweat drips down his hard chest.

He shakes his head. “I’m not fucking you right now,” he says, as he slams into me.

Another roll of his hips. Another shuddering thrust that sends my world spinning. His palms press hard against the mattress, and he lowers himself against me. “I’m making love to you like this.”

I untangle my hands, rope them around his neck, and tug him even closer. “You are.”

And then words no longer matter. Only bodies. Only hearts. Only this connection that faded over the years but burned back brightly as soon as we came into each other’s lives again. Stronger, better, more certain the second time around.

Another climax claims me, rushing through my body, lighting me up.

My cries flip the switch in him because he fucks harder, relentlessly, taking me, owning me, then finally finding his release inside me.

When he collapses onto me, sweaty and elated, and asks me to spend the night, I tell him there’s no place I’d rather be.

Even though when the sun rises, all I want is to leave.