e. He hoists up my dress.
“First surface here,” he breathes and abruptly he lifts
me. “Wrap your legs around me.”
I do as I’m told, and he turns and lays me down on the
foyer table, so he’s standing between my legs. I’m aware
that the usual vase of flowers is missing. Huh? Reaching
into his jeans pocket, he fishes out a foil packet and hands
it to me, undoing his fly.
“Do you know how much you turn me on?”
“What?” I pant. “No . . . I . . .”
“Well, you do,” he mutters, “all the time.” He grabs the
foil packet from my hands. Oh, this is so quick, but after
all his tantalizing teasing, I want him badly—right now. He
gazes down at me as he rolls on the condom, then puts his
hands under my thighs, spreading my legs wider.
Positioning himself, he pauses. “Keep your eyes open.
I want to see you,” he whispers and clasping both my
hands with his, he sinks slowly into me.
I try, I really do, but the feeling is so exquisite. What
I’ve been waiting for after all his teasing. Oh, the fullness,
this feeling . . . I groan and arch my back off the table.
“Open!” he growls, tightening his hands on mine and
thrusting sharply into me so that I cry out.
I blink my eyes open, and he stares down at me wideeyed.
Slowly he withdraws then sinks into me once more,
his mouth slackening and then forming an Ah . . . , but he
says nothing. Seeing his arousal, his reaction to me—I light
up inside, my blood scorching through my veins. His gray
up inside, my blood scorching through my veins. His gray
eyes burn into mine. He picks up the rhythm, and I revel in
it, glory in it, watching him, watching me—his passion,
his love—as we come apart, together.
I call out as I explode around him, and Christian
follows.
“Yes, Ana!” he cries. He collapses on me, releasing
my hands and resting his head on my chest. My legs are
still wrapped around him, and under the patient, maternal
eyes of the Madonna paintings, I cradle his head against
me and struggle to catch my breath.
He raises his head to look at me. “I’
本章未完，点击下一页继续阅读。