Free Heard It All Before by Michele Grant Page B

foreplay, Greggy.” I pushed his pants and boxers down. “Now I’m telling you one last time—unless you want those beautiful pants hopelessly wrinkled, I suggest you get rid of ’em.”
    He slipped off his boxers and pants after digging that trusty Trojan out of his wallet. “Preparing to do work, are we?” he teased, and ripped open the packet.
    I looked him up, down, and over before licking my lips. Yum-yum. Surely Adam didn’t look this good to Eve in the Garden of Eden. He took care of the condom and slid back on top of me.
    I put my hands on his shoulders and smiled. “Well, I’m planning on getting real busy, Greggy. I kinda hoped you could hang on for the ride.” Yes! I was smooth and in control again. I brought his face close for a quick I-got-you-now-boy kiss.
    â€œI’ll try to keep up.” With that, he raised up on his arms over me. “You ready?”
    I rolled my eyes, thinking I’d hate to be much more ready than this. “Willing and able.”
    His knee nudged mine aside, and he was in in one smooth stroke. Damn, I should have known it would feel this way. I shifted my hips in anticipation of his first thrust. He didn’t move, just lay there forcing me to bask in the knowledge of his possession. I shimmied around again, the combination of the reality of him inside me and the anticipation of more to come was making me lose it. His hand snaked down to that ever sensitive button and flicked across me, once, twice and I came apart into a million pieces. I was in a trance, under a spell, all of that totally bewitched stuff. Shit, I was still trying to put myself together when the master warlock spoke again.
    â€œNow you’re ready.” He bent my knees up and started stroking. Slowly and continuously. I went off again, and I was pretty sure I was begging.
    â€œTell me you want me, baby.” Not now with the macho shit, not now when I could barely remember my name.
    â€œTell me you want me .” I was trying to hang on to the old, cool, controlled me, but she was slipping away fast. I couldn’t think straight, catch my breath, or maintain my controlled façade.
    â€œI want you—all of you,” he answered seriously, sliding out of me. He went down and put his mouth to work. Oh, the wicked, wicked knowledge his tongue had. Whatever I had planned to say flew out of my mind like the wind. I called out his name. I think I wept. I was way over my normal threshold of pleasure by the time he raised up, gave me a tangy kiss, and slid back in, deep and full.
    I didn’t even try to recover. I just let instinct kick in, and I started matching his strokes with a few of my own, dragging him with me into this vortex where nothing but exquisite pleasure existed. There was no room for machismo or games—finally, it was real. Just him and me, together. It was real and it was right. We both knew it.
    The tempo increased and we kissed wildly, raking our hands up and down each other, grabbing oxygen when and where we could. “Damn, Renee,” was the last thing I remember hearing him say before we rolled off the sofa and got down to business in a serious way. Every touch was hotter than the last, every kiss sparked yet another nerve ending, and every stroke ... every stroke was an erotic invitation to paradise. It was wild; it was primal; it was totally mind-blowing.
    We were finally at the point at which it absolutely could not get any sweatier, any faster, any dizzier, any better . Gregory went absolutely still for a minute before withdrawing and coming back for the final slam dunk. I tried not to scream, but after he called out my name for the entire world to hear, I followed suit. What the hell? Over the edge we went, holding on tightly to each other. We laid there panting, stuck together and in shock on the rug.
    â€œJesus, girl, you trying to kill me?” He sprawled on top of me, breathing in my