Warm Nights in Magnolia Bay by Babette Jongh (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📕

naked body, just by touching her beautiful breasts and feeling her responsive nipples draw up into hard little beads.

Time to take charge. But first… He moved her hand away from him. “Hold that thought.” Thank God he had stashed a few condoms in his shaving kit, just in case. “I’ll be right back.”

He made it back in zero-point-two to find her burrowed under the quilt, with only her face sticking out at the top and her broken foot with the cast sticking out at the bottom. “You cold?”

“Maybe.” But she was blushing.

He climbed onto the bed and knelt over her, pinning her under the covers. “I’ll warm you up.” She squirmed, tried to bring her arms up, but he bent forward and put his weight on his elbows. “I think I like holding you captive like this.”

She relaxed under him and her eyelids drifted shut. She lifted her mouth for a kiss, and he obliged, but on his terms. Slowly, slowly, he licked the seam of her lips with just the tip of his tongue. When her mouth dropped open, inviting more, he moved to kiss the upturned corners of her full lips, then her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin. He sucked lightly at the little dip between her jawline and her neck, where a rapid pulse fluttered. Not enough to leave a mark; he was careful to treat her tender skin gently.

Also careful to avoid her cast, he sat up and straddled her hips, then began to roll down the old-fashioned quilt she’d covered herself with out of modesty.

He vowed to himself that she’d have no modesty left after he was done with her. Exposing her delicate collarbones, he traced them with his fingertips, then followed with his lips. He brought the quilt down below her breasts and cupped the two perfect handfuls of soft, yielding flesh in his palms. The barest touch of his thumbs across her nipples made them contract in response. Lord, she was beautiful.

She feathered her fingertips across his chest and pinched his nipples lightly. His stiff cock lurched at the current of sensation that seemed to connect those three seemingly unconnected body parts. His balls contracted, too, a warning sign that he needed to go slowly. He backed up out of her reach. “Nope, sorry. My turn first.”

He folded the quilt aside and kissed his way down her flat abdomen, then explored her body more intimately. The just-bathed skin of her soft mound and even softer pubic hair smelled of rose-scented soap. The silky, damp skin below filled his mouth with the slight tang of salt and the elusive, compelling scent of a woman—not just any woman, but this woman.

She grabbed his shoulders and made some token protest, some suggestion that he stop what he was doing and come inside her. He heard her voice, but he felt her body, and he knew which one to listen to just now. He learned the touches that made her tense and those that helped her relax. He learned what made her tremble and what made her inner muscles clench and pulse with reaction. With his hands and his mouth, he brought her almost to climax, just about there, then kissed his way up her belly.

“Don’t stop,” she moaned, her fists clenching the bedsheets.

“Not stopping,” he promised. “Just getting started.” He sat back and put on the condom one-handed while he stroked her with the other hand. The truth was, he was so turned on by the eroticism of hearing her pleasure and feeling her approach orgasm that he was about to come himself, and when he did come, he wanted to be inside her.

He already knew that she was wet, slick, ready for him. But he still wanted to hear it from her. He kissed the outside of her ear, then whispered, “What do you want?”

He hovered over her, weight on his elbows and knees, waiting for her answer.

She made a low, growling sound, reached between their bodies, and guided him inside. Raising her head off the pillow, she bit the edge of his ear—not lightly, either. She bit down hard enough to hurt. Then she blew a hot breath into his ear that made him shiver. “This,” she whispered back. Clutching his butt with both hands, she lifted her hips and drove him inside even farther. “This is what I want.”

* * *

His body inside hers was an epiphany. This.

This.

He’d made her say it out loud, made her admit it to herself and to him. This was what she wanted. This was the start of something neither of them had expected, like finding a diamond winking from a fissure in a cracked sidewalk. Now that they’d found this unexpected gift, they could never go back to the way things were, no matter what.

This was, as he’d promised it would be, everything.

He had made the offer, then made sure it was her decision; and with that decision, she had grabbed his firm butt and driven him home inside her.

He filled her; he more than filled her. Not just her body, but her mind, her spirit, her soul. All her fears and all her failures dissolved in that moment, replaced by the knowledge that from now on, she’d be his home, and he’d be hers. “Tell me what you want,” she whispered in his ear.

He pulled out and then slid in again. “This.”

He set up a slow, deep rhythm that brought her right to the edge of orgasm again.

“And this.” In and out again.

“And this.” Slow, easy, deep.

“And this…” He kissed her neck, caressed her breasts, and battered her down below with an intensity that hurt even as it healed.

“Yes.” She clenched Quinn’s shoulders and looked up at the sunlit ceiling where the fan circled lazily above the bed. Something inside her spiraled up and up toward that circling fan, and she experienced a sensation she had only felt once before, just before fainting. The edges of her vision dimmed, then sparkled, like stars in the night