Hard and Fast (Fast Track #2)(30)
Author: Erin McCarthy

She could feel the fullness of him, feel the throb, his growing loss of control, and she raised her hips, anticipating both her orgasm and his. But Ty yanked back all the way out of her, panting, and dropped his mouth to her. Imogen didn’t even have time to protest before she was caught by the current and dragged under to the different kind of ecstasy his tongue offered. Raising her arms over her head, she gripped the sheet and squirmed as he tortured her with long licks over her clitoris. It was almost too much, her body sensitive and taut, her legs moving restlessly, feet finding the bed rail to rest on for a better grip, a way to hold herself in place, to ground her under his assault.

When he sucked her clitoris, she arched up off the bed, a gasp flying out of her mouth, but Ty didn’t let her stay up. With his hand on her chest, he pushed her back down, moved up, and entered her again.

“Ohmigod,” she managed, before she lost the ability to speak.

Then there was nothing, no thought, no words, no anything but the feel of him deep inside her, taking her, their bodies colliding and slapping. Imogen’s own excitement grew hotter still when Ty broke his silence and began to let out a grunt of pleasure with each stroke. It was a thrilling, satisfying sound and she dug her nails deeper into his back, needing to hold on, needing to feel him.

Ty pulled out yet again, his movements fast and jerky, and Imogen sucked in her breath at the loss. “No, Ty! Please . . .”

His mouth was on her again and all the logic she had been born with, all her ability to reason and rationalize, completely disappeared. She disintegrated into an insensible, babbling mass of nerve endings, moan after moan emerging as her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms fell to the bed. She couldn’t think, couldn’t talk, could only enjoy an ecstasy so acute it was nearly painful.

She didn’t know if it was a minute or ten before he lifted his head, his lips glistening with her arousal, and entered her again. This time, she was too insane with want, too close. He stroked once and she felt it rising inside her. When he stroked a second time, harder, her orgasm burst, hot and explosive, from deep inside her, and she yelled out—a warning, a triumph, she wasn’t sure—but she wanted him to know that this was it, this was the best orgasm she’d ever had. Ever. Ever, ever.

“That’s it,” he said, smoothing her hair off her forehead, then clutching a handful hard enough that her head tilted. “Come for me, babe.”

“I am.” She was. She liked the edgy roughness of his grip, the way he held his rhythm while her body shuddered and convulsed under and around him. The pulse inside was tight and strong, the volume, the intensity, the pleasure overwhelming and wonderful and satiating all at once.

But the best moment of all came while she was still feeling the last vestiges of her own orgasm. She watched Ty as his eyes drifted half-closed, his mouth opened, his erection paused inside her, pulsing, then his orgasm joined hers, his shouts mingling with hers, their bodies tight and connected in shuddering, mind-shattering passion.

It was amazing, to feel him coming inside her, and Imogen smiled up at him with a little laugh as they both reached the end and Ty went still.

“Whoa.” He smiled back at her, turning his head to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his shoulder. “Told you you’re one smoking hot woman, Emma Jean.”

“I have no complaints about you either,” she said, enjoying lying flat on her back, his weight heavy and appealing on her, his penis still embedded inside her.

“No?” He kissed her, finishing it off with a nip at her bottom lip. “Not even the fact that I kept you from coming?”

Imogen felt a little aftershock in her vagina from his words and the sensation of his teeth toying with her mouth. “While that was irritating at the time, I see in hindsight that you had a master plan. And I appreciate your willingness to look at the big picture.”

“It was definitely meant to benefit you.”

“It did, thank you.” She raised her hips, wanting to feel that hard hit from him again, even as she knew she was completely satisfied. He just felt so good.

He groaned. “God, you’re killing me.”

Pulling out of her, Ty moved around on the bed until he was in a proper sleep position. “Come here, babe.”

He reached for her, and after Imogen managed to crawl up the bed, he tucked her into his side, his arm around her. He yanked up the covers over them, then let out a mighty yawn.

Imogen had wondered how they would address the sleeping-over issue, if he would want that or not, but his actions were fairly clear that he intended for her to stay, and she was warm and satisfied and sleepy, and her head on his chest felt wonderful. She didn’t feel inclined to go anywhere at the moment.

“Ty?”

“Hmmm?” His eyes were closed and his breathing was already evening out.

“Never mind.” She had been about to ask something phenomenally stupid, like if he had liked it, or if he thought she was sexy. Questions that stemmed from insecurity and had no business being spoken out loud. If she were logical about it, she would recognize that he had clearly enjoyed himself, and that he must find her at least marginally attractive and sexually appealing to devote the kind of time and energy to it that he had.

She didn’t need verbal confirmation from him.

“Alright, good night,” he said, his words a little slurred. “But before I pass out, I want you to know that you’re the hottest biscuit this side of the gravy boat.”

Imogen wasn’t sure what the hell that meant, but it was definitely a compliment, and she recognized a warm and fuzzy feeling blooming in her at his unprompted reassurance. She was about to respond when he gave her ass a little smack.

Startled, she looked up at him. But he was already asleep. Obviously the ass pat had taken every last ounce of energy reserve from him.

Snuggling in closer with a silly grin on her face, Imogen stole his body heat and joined him in sleep.

TY woke up the best way possible—exhausted, with stiff muscles and a naked Imogen draped across him. He had always been the kind to snap awake, so as soon as his eyes opened, he was alert and aware that the sun was creeping up outside. The candles he had stupidly left burning had snuffed out while they were sleeping and the room was dim, but full light would be streaming in his windows in another half hour. Imogen was still out cold, her breathing soft and steady, her fingers twitching on his shoulder.

He couldn’t resist dropping a kiss on the top of her head as he shifted a little. She had been everything he could have hoped for and then some. Sex with her had been . . . wow. Amazing. Off the chain. Mouthwatering. Hot and exciting and damn satisfying. She had been agreeable and eager, very vocal and very excited, all things he really appreciated. Hell, things he craved. He could admit it, he liked to dominate just a little in the bedroom, and she hadn’t fought him on that. In fact, he thought she’d gotten off on it.