again, “we probably shouldn’t be doing this out in the open in front of the clients. Just an observation.”
She was probably right. Instead of stepping back, though, Mark caught her hand and pulled her toward the club house. “Consider this your break, then.”
Erica followed, laughing.
When they were inside, they took the stairs up to the apartment together, eager hands immediately stripping clothing off almost before the door had closed behind them. They didn’t care where it fell as they moved back toward the bedroom, kissing and touching and occasionally almost tripping over things. There wasn’t a lot of time before both of them had to be back at work, and Mark wanted her. Damn, he wanted her.
Laid out on the bed with her golden hair spilling across the pillow, she looked like… Well, mythology wasn’t his specialty, but she looked amazing, all long limbs and summer-tan skin. Someday, when they had more time, he wanted to lay her out like that and get his mouth and his hands on every inch of her. Drive her absolutely wild. But right now there wasn’t time for that, and he knelt between her legs, pulling her closer with his hands around her thighs until she was practically in his lap. The gasp that left her was enough to make him moan in answer.
“Come on, Mark.”
“You not in the mood to take it slow today?” he teased, knowing neither of them had the time. He stroked his fingers over the curve of her sex, feeling her wet and ready for him already, and groaned low in the back of his throat. “Fuck. Erica.”
She arched into the touch, opening her legs wider for him, and then he was pulling her in close and sliding inside her, satisfying them both with the press of it. Her spine pulled upward, lifting her body toward him, and Mark’s hands on her hips held her tight. They writhed against each other, meeting thrust for thrust. Erica’s name spilled from Mark’s lips with his panting breath, and he almost found himself whispering that he loved her. He swallowed the words back. Maybe it wasn’t quite the time. She might not be ready for it yet.
Another thrust, long and deep, and she was all but sobbing with the pleasure of it. Mark growled, and slid his hands up the curves of her ribcage to her breasts, cupping the weight of them, catching her nipples between thumb and forefinger and rubbing them with just enough pressure to make her moan his name.
“Damn, you’re gorgeous,” he groaned as he moved. “So fucking perfect. Can’t believe you did that for me.”
“Mark,” she breathed, like it was all she could remember how to say.
Her hands were on him, her nails scratching down his back and leaving stinging marks in their wake. Just enough to hurt. Just enough to be absolutely intoxicating. Everything about her was. The way she felt. The way she smelled. He rocked his hips, filling her up again and again, and she took him like she was made for him. They were made for each other, he was sure.
He wasn’t going to last much longer. Pleasure was sparking through his veins, driving him toward the inevitable edge. It was building in a coil at the base of his spine.
She was close, too, Mark knew. Could feel the clench of her hands against his shoulders and the telltale shiver of her thighs. Her toes curled, and he slid a hand down to press his thumb over her clit, rubbing circles to match the pace of his thrusts. Erica’s body shuddered.
“Oh, fuck. Mark. Please.”
“Come on, baby. Come on. Give it to me.”
That was all it took. She was a strung-wire arch of pleasure underneath him, and then it was exploding through his own veins, filling him with sparkling heat. Mark came, gasping her name against the curve of her throat.
They lay there together in the bed, panting and satisfied, and Mark rolled off to the side, Erica immediately curling against his side.
“Wow,” she said, a little laughter in her voice.
“Good?” Mark teased, grinning down at her.
“Yeah,” Erica answered.
Tim Lahaye, Jerry B. Jenkins