She hooks her thumbs in the waistband, swallows again and inhales shakily, and then does that same lush, lust-inducing, heart-stopping shimmy again and the black lace joins denim and underwire on the floor of her bedroom. I didn’t think I could feel desire any more painfully, but at the sight of Nadia, naked, for me, I do. I groan, rub my palm over my mouth.

“God…damn, Nadia.”

She seems to melt at my words. “You look at me like…like I’m the most beautiful thing there is.”

“Because you are.”

She steps forward, closer. Eyes on mine. “I hope—I hope you see the same thing in my eyes.”

“I do,” I whisper. Waiting. “Sure do.”

She frees the button of my fly, tugs down the zipper. I press out of the opening, straining against the imprisoning fabric of my underwear. She lowers both jean and underwear in the same motion, shoving them down to my knees so I can toe them off and kick them aside.

My turn to take over. I step into her, and the bed hits her knees, and she sits, abruptly. I follow her, and wrap one arm around her, under her, cradling her head as I lay her down on the bed. One knee on the mattress beside her, and then she scoots toward the head end and I go with her.

“I want to make you feel good,” I murmur.

“I already do feel good,” she says. Her hand slides from my shoulders down my back, to my butt, where she pauses to spend a while.

“Not what I meant.”

Her eyes glitter in the darkness; the only light is from the full moon through her window, and it bathes her with liquid silver light. “Take me there,” she whispers. “Show me what you mean.”

And so, I do.

A Song Of Us

At first, Nathan just kisses me. But this kiss is meant to distract, to incite, and god, does he do that. His tongue whips my need into a frenzy, and I realize how very, very long it’s been since I felt anything good, anything this good, and I only dare approach that thought before just flinging myself headlong into simply feeling.

His mouth on mine

His body heavy and big and hard above me. His skin under my hands—I touch his broad shoulders and thick arms, his wide back and taut butt, his hairy, strong thighs. The hard weight of his sex is there, hanging and bobbing between us, but I wait. I want to hold him, stroke him, feel him, but I wait. Not quite yet.