Free All Over You by Sarah Mayberry Page B

wrapped her hand around him.
    “Grace,” he breathed raggedly as she stroked more confidently up and down his shaft.
    “I know,” she gasped.
    They were wearing too much clothing. She’d never wanted to be naked more in her life. On fire, she shoved him backward into the armless chair beside her fireplace. No sooner was he seated than she had his erection free from his jeans, sitting up proudly and begging for her attention.
    It didn’t have to beg — she was Mac’s for the asking. Lifting her skirt up with no finesse but plenty of alacrity, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and whipped them down her legs. He watched with an approving glint in his eyes, his hands reaching out to slide beneath her dress as she straddled him. The feel of his hands on her thighs and backside was her every wish come true and she rubbed herself against the hardness of his erection with a fierce abandon.
    “This has to come off,” Mac said, starting to tackle the first of the dozens of tiny buttons down the front of her dress. Imagining his mouth on her breasts was too much, and she was too greedy to wait. Grabbing both sides of the slightly opened neckline, she tugged, hard. Buttons pinged everywhere, one hitting Mac near the eye, but within seconds she’d bared her dusky-peach lace bra to his eyes and he was pushing it out of the way and sucking a nipple into the moist heat of his mouth.
    Gasping, Grace writhed. She was about to come, but she wanted him inside her.
    Tangling her fingers in his hair, she gripped tight and pulled him away from his very important work on her breasts.
    “Condom,” she panted when he frowned at her.
    His frown cleared. “Back pocket,” he said, tilting up on one hip so she could slide her fingers around to retrieve his wallet.
    A single, beautiful condom resided in a credit-card slot and she pulled it free and ripped it open in one smooth move. Tossing his wallet to one side, she stood for the brief time it took to protect them both. Then she slid a hand between their bodies, positioned the head of his erection between her slick inner lips, and began the slow slide to ecstasy.
    He groaned and dropped his head back as he penetrated her, even as his hands slid over her breasts and began to massage them rhythmically. Grace’s eyes narrowed to slits as she stretched to accommodate him, every nerve ending on fire, her orgasm just a hair’s breadth away. Slowly, savoring every hard, thick inch, she began to ride him.
    She felt overwhelmed with sensation. The scratch of his stubble on her breasts. The fullness of his hardness inside her. Then, almost too much, the smooth caress as one of his hands moved around her hip to delve into the moist curls between her legs. He found the swollen nub of her clitoris with his thumb and she shuddered as he began to massage it firmly.
    “Mac, oh, Mac,” she cried out, as she had a hundred times before. But this time, he was here, a real man, not a figment of her imagination.
    As though he sensed her imminent climax, Mac’s head came up and she found herself matching his wide, reckless grin. Her body began to shudder and he leaned forward, pulling an already-taut nipple into his mouth as everything converged within her. She ground herself against him as she came explosively, back arching, breasts thrusting forward, hands digging into his shoulders as she shouted out her release. A few seconds later, he grabbed her hips and she felt the powerful, instinctive thrust of his hips up into her as he joined her in ecstasy.
    Panting, a bead of sweat trickling between her breasts, Grace flopped forward, her face resting against the side of Mac’s neck.
    Four years. Four long, lonely, horny years since she’d had sex.
    And, oh boy, had it been worth the wait.

4
    G RACE WOKE to the smell of Mac’s aftershave in her bed. The instant she recognized the smoky mix of cloves and sandalwood, a big smile stretched across her face. She stretched languorously, her eyes still closed