He wanted a shower, but first he tugged on his jeans and, leaving them unbuttoned, ambled out into her living room to investigate…bypassing a trophy saddle on the way.

Jesus, yes, the girl liked to ride. He could damn sure attest to that.

She was chopping vegetables at the counter in a silky pink robe thing that barely covered her ass. Moving quietly as he could on his bare feet, he sneaked up behind her and slid a finger under the hem.

Macy gasped and whirled, hazel eyes wide. “Dammit! Don’t do that to a woman with a knife in her hand.”

“You don’t scare me,” he murmured, leaning in to taste the sweetness of her neck. She smelled like warm, sugary vanilla. Tasted like it too. The scent had always barely teased him when he was around her, but now, this close, he could get drunk on it. Drunk on her.

Her knife clattered to the counter, and she sighed and wound her arms around his neck. The position raised the hem of her robe, and he took advantage, sliding his hands over the firm globes of her ass.

He loved how she was soft and strong at once, her muscles solid as any athlete’s, the strength belied by the delicacy of her stature. Perfection, he thought yet again. He really wished he would stop it with that. Nobody was perfect.

She might damn well be as close as he’d ever get.

One quick tug and her robe fell open, baring those high, sweet, pink-tipped br**sts. Something sizzled angrily on the stove, but it was nothing compared to the sizzle happening down south. He was as hard right now as he’d ever been last night, the sight of her luscious tits revving him until he was like a race car in the red.

“I’m going to burn the bacon,” she murmured as his lips sought a nipple. For some reason, she made him think of cake frosting. A confection. Far too rich for his palate, but damn if he wasn’t going to steal a bite if he could.

Thank God he’d put his pants back on. Thank God he’d put his wallet back in the pocket last night. Thank God there were more condoms in there. She was already shoving at his jeans, pushing them down his hips so that his erection sprang free. He pulled away from her and groaned as she encased him with her slim fingers. The first time she’d done that months ago, he could’ve blown in her gentle grip like a teenager. Just to be in her hands, Macy’s hands, when he’d thought he never would be, had almost been too much for him.

“Hang on,” she whispered and, stretching over to her left, turned off the knob on the stove and moved the pan to a cool eye.

He chuckled, but the sound abruptly died when she hit her knees in front of him. All the air pretty much waved bye-bye to his lungs. He shuffled backward until his ass met the edge of her kitchen island, and he braced his hands against it, trying to catch his breath. As she finally came face-to-face with the snarling, skeletal Grim-Reaper-ish ghost low on his abdomen, she paused long enough to glance up at him and smirk. Thank f**k, it didn’t deter her. Her wet little tongue flickered over his tip and then circled it, and he let his head fall back with an agonized groan.

After three long, damp strokes up his dick, he was panting. Once he was glistening with moisture from her clever tongue, her hand curled around his base, her lips sucked in his crown. Slowly. Not even inch by inch but centimeter by centimeter. She worked him deep as his knees nearly gave out.

“Macy,” he choked out, threading his fingers through silky hair still tousled from their wild escapades last night. He wanted to grab the back of her head and shove it, had to make a fist to keep from doing so. She whimpered as her hair pulled tight. “Sorry,” he whispered, loosening. “I can’t stand it.”

She had yet to show him what he couldn’t stand. Her tongue rolled around his shaft, teased at his piercing, and he growled. Her hand stroked him at his base. Her other hand came up to cup his balls. His entire friggin’ life was focused between his legs in that moment.

But he didn’t want to come down her throat. For that matter, he didn’t want to come in a f**king rubber, either.

There were far worse decisions to have to make, he decided, than where and how to release inside Macy’s willing body. But this kitchen island sure was an ideal height…

He was almost too far gone to stop her. Almost. Grasping her hands, he pulled them away as she glanced up at him questioningly. His c**k fell from her mouth with a wet sound that almost made him change his mind. The memory of how soft, tight and perfect her pu**y had felt wrapped around him was the only thing that gave him strength. He wanted to be there again, wanted to be there as often as she’d let him before she decided to move on.

Move on…maybe to some other undeserving ass**le. The thought sent razor blades shredding through his chest.

He hauled her up to her feet and grabbed her around her slim waist, whirled and planted her on the island. She gave a soft laugh as a strand of dark hair fell over her eyes…stunningly beautiful, dreamy, come-fuck-me eyes. He insinuated himself between her thighs and reached for the back pocket of his drooping jeans. She glanced down at his dick. No drooping there. He was damn near pointing straight up.

Macy’s pink tongue slid over her swollen top lip. He’d love to let it slide over him some more, but he was humming with too much adrenaline, too much pent-up energy. As much as he’d like her to suck him off, right now he needed to f**k. Hard. He needed her to never forget what he felt like inside her.

She reached for his c**k while he tore the foil, one corner of that luscious mouth kicked up. “Magnum,” she commented.

“You know it.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

His task completed, he pulled her close, spreading her legs wide around his hips. “Seth,” she breathed, the tiniest hint of urgency in her tone. “Go slow at first, okay? It…had been a while and…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered. He needed her, he needed her hard and fast, but one tiny hint of vulnerability from her and he also wanted to soothe her and protect her. And never, ever hurt her.

She took his gentle intrusion with her head back, her nails digging in his shoulders, her graceful throat exposed so he could watch the pulse flutter at the side of her neck. He could feel that same pulse in the clinging depths of her pu**y. Her brow furrowed, but whether it was pleasure or pain or a comingling of the two, he couldn’t tell. He held still while she shifted to angle her hips better for him. When she found it, he knew. Her expression smoothed over.

“Oh yes,” he murmured, nuzzling the side of her neck. He moved one hand from her thigh to draw teasing circles around her areola with his thumb as he withdrew from her almost all the way. Only the very tip of him claimed the last inch of her. He slid back in, easier this time. She was so swollen, so tight. So perfect, contoured in just a way that stroked all his hot spots. Like she’d been made for him.

Every ounce of restraint he possessed was engaged right now, straining against the need roaring through his veins, holding it at bay. He wouldn’t let go until he knew she was with him.

Her internal muscles squeezed him and he growled. Goddamn, he loved it when she did that. The girl had muscles in places that—

She did it again, and all thought shut down.

“Macy…” It was a plea. It was a prayer. If she needed it, he’d turn it into a f**king chant. He just wanted her, wanted to plunge into her over and over, needed to make her his.