Sex On The Seats (Love After Midnight Book 4) by Elise Faber (most inspirational books .txt) 📗

It had been almost twenty-four hours since I’d had him, and I wanted him like it was the first time every time. Need that wove through me, making my hands tremble, my thighs clench, that had me walking over to him and flicking open the button on his jeans.

The zzz of his zipper sliding down was the best sound ever.

“Not hungry,” he murmured, brushing my hands away. His jeans were precariously perched, open and loose, hanging on the edges of his hips, and the temptation to nudge it down, to slip my hand into his boxer briefs, to enjoy the treasure within—ha, but also true—was intense. Whether he read that in my eyes or was just experiencing temptation of his own, I didn’t know. All I did know was that one second, I was staring at the hard ridge of his cock, imagining how delicious it would be to lick it like my favorite lollipop, and the next, my pants were on the ground, my ass on the edge of the counter.

“Magician,” I teased.

“My next trick,” he said, leaning close and kissing a spot beneath my jaw, “is to make your bra disappear.” And then he lent action to words by reaching behind me and flicking open the clasp on my bra.

“Next thing I know,” I said, running my fingers over the bristles on his jaw, “you’ll be pulling a rabbit out of a hat . . . or maybe a condom out of thin air.”

He reached into his pocket. “How about a condom out of denim?” he asked, holding up the plastic square, his lips curved into a sexy smile I just had to kiss. So I did . . . and then I gave in to the urge to push down those pants.

One nudge and they hit the tile.

Another and his boxers joined them.

He set the condom on the counter, pulled back, and brushed his thumb over my bottom lip, trailed it down my throat, across my chest, massaging one breast then the other, rolling my nipples between thumb and forefinger. Oh fuck, that was good. I jerked, pleasure flowing through me, damp heat pooling between my thighs. “You’re a magician now, too?”

“Hmm?”

“You made my pants disappear,” he said, bending to take one aching tip into his mouth, suckling deeply.

My fingers found his hair, clenched tight, but he wasn’t deterred. Instead, he continued using his mouth and hands to whip my need into a frenzied froth of desire, lungs burning, pussy drenched and aching in emptiness, my lips and fingers tingling.

I snagged the condom from the counter, tore it open with my teeth, and rolled it down the length of his cock.

His forehead dropped to my shoulder, hot breath puffing on skin, fingers drifting down, slipping between my slick heat, one circled the bud of nerves, sending wave after wave of bliss through me.

“Enough,” I said, pushing his hand away and reaching for his cock, gripping it tight and tugging it toward me.

And then he was inside, the crown of him stretching me tight, filling me full to the brim as he pressed deep in slow, incremental strokes, bottoming out, coaxing my legs around his waist. “Closer, baby,” he murmured, tugging me toward the edge of the counter in one quick move that brought him even deeper and had me gasping, gripping the square lip.

“Sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” I said, wrapping my legs tighter, using my heels to encourage him to grind against me.

Sparks of pleasure flew through me, gathering together into a thick rope that wound through my insides, stiffening my spine, a tiny ball of fire, of pleasure growing in my abdomen, expanding until it filled every part of me, licking over my nerves, tightening my muscles, until . . .

Boom.

Explosion.

In cinders.

My head fell back as he continued moving, sparking the embers into an orgasm that went on and on and on.

He groaned, hips jerking, my name tumbling from his lips as he found his own climax, and then we were both wrapped in pleasure, both soaring together, both slowly, oh so slowly, coming back down to earth.

We stayed in place for long minutes, but eventually reality intruded, the cold and hard of the counter seeping into my ass, the cool air prickling along my skin.

I kept my arms and legs wrapped tight around him, not ready to let go.

My heartbeat slowed. The sweat evaporated on my skin . . .

My stomach growled.

Loudly.

Archer laughed, his arms tightening around me, the warm puffs of his chuckles on my throat. He leaned back, cupped my cheek. “Bolognese.”

Chapter Nineteen

Archer

I poked my head through the door, saw Niki typing away, and started to turn and go back downstairs, but she spun in her chair.

“Wait,” she said, extending a hand in my direction. “I just need to finish this email”—she turned back to her computer, pressed a few final keys, and clicked her mouse—“and . . . done!” She smiled, ran her hand through her hair in a motion I’d seen often enough to understand it was one of those small, unconscious movements that one only learned about their partner when they’d spent enough time together.

And we’d spent a lot of time together.

Every free moment outside of work.

Laughing together in front of the TV, cuddling in bed talking about nothing at all. Her glaring at me from across the bar, smiling when I snuck a Sex on the Beach in front of her—or as we’d begun calling it, Sex on the Seats, since she’d said my ability to mix vodka, juice, and schnapps had gotten me a free ride right into her pants.

But more than the sex and the eating—both of which were great—I found that Niki was a friend.

A good friend.

My best friend.

I’d never found someone who was so easy to be with. From the moment she’d decided to let me in, to date me, our relationship had been effortless in a way it had never been with my ex.

Right.

This with Niki was right. I was head over heels