He rocked himself into her until the shaking subsided, and with a groan, he rose to his feet. He yanked his wallet out of his pocket, pulled a condom from inside it, and undressed in the blink of an eye. She did the same, shimmying the tight shorts down and off her legs, pulling her panties off with them.

He slid on protection, then sat down on the couch and shifted her to her knees, facing him, her thighs on either side of his. He gripped his cock, pumping his hand up and down the straining shaft, then helped her position herself over him.

Next thing she knew, he was filling her, thick, hard, and deep, as she lowered herself completely. She braced her hands on his shoulders and stilled, her gaze meeting his. It was intimate, her entire body aware of him inside her.

“Move,” he said, his voice husky and raw.

She lifted herself up, felt the drag of his erection as he pulled out of her. His hands held on to her hips and he began to direct her movements, gliding her up and down his shaft. Instinct had her lifting and dropping her body in time to the shifting of his hips, pure need had her rocking her clit against him with every joining of their bodies, and suddenly the impossible began to happen.

A small stirring of another climax started deep inside her, one that grew with every thrust and grind, and suddenly she was there, coming again, harder, more deeply, feeling every inch of him as he groaned and followed her up and over into utter ecstasy.

She collapsed against him, her muscles suddenly no longer able to hold her up, and she buried her face in his neck, inhaling his musky, masculine scent and getting lost in the smell and feel of him around her.

The sudden sound of the doorbell intruded, and he uttered a curse, pushing her off him. “Coming!” he yelled out, buying them time. “Go.” He gestured and she grabbed her clothing and ran for the bathroom, leaving him to ditch the condom, get dressed, and rescue her dinner.

Body sore, cheeks flaming, she rejoined him in the family room, where he’d put the pizza on the table by the sofa.

“Umm, want dinner?” she asked, unsure what the protocol was in a situation like this.

He nodded, so she headed to the kitchen, returning with plates, napkins, and cups.

Next thing she knew, she was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, devouring first one, then two, then a third slice of pizza, hunger returning where it hadn’t existed for the last couple of days.

He ate his own slices.

She didn’t count how many, but she couldn’t miss the amused grin on his handsome face.

“I have no clue where you’re putting all that food,” he muttered.

She blushed in embarrassment. “A gentleman wouldn’t mention it, you know.”

He rolled his shoulders dismissively. “Did I ever claim to be a gentleman?” To her surprise, he winked at her and took a long sip of his soda.