Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

She ran her palm over my now-straining erection and I sucked in a breath, my head falling onto the back of the chair, my body stretched out before her.

She brought her head forward, kissing down my stomach and using her hand to rub me through my boxers.

“Haven,” I groaned, a tortured sound that accurately depicted how I felt.

“Shh,” she said, blowing on the thin line of hair that traveled from my lower stomach beneath the band of my boxer shorts. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Cruel.”

I felt the curve of her lips as she brought them to my lower stomach, flicking out her tongue and licking downward as she lowered my shorts. I sank down into the chair, giving in to the hot, drugging pleasure of her hands and mouth on my body and the smell of her shampoo drifting up to me as she went down on her knees.

Haven.

She pulled my boxers off slowly and I opened my eyes, our gazes holding as she brought them down my legs, my erection springing free and standing rigid before her. She inhaled a breath, leaned forward and kissed it. I grunted out a gasp, my lips falling open. “You’re beautiful too,” she murmured, just before she bent her head, taking the tip of my cock in her lips and sucking.

“Oh God,” I moaned. Please don’t stop.

She wrapped her fist around my base and lowered her mouth farther, slowly withdrawing and then lowering again. I reached up, grabbing a handful of my own hair and giving it a slight pull. I felt like I might come in mere moments, the sensation of her hot wet mouth in addition to the visual of her lips wrapped around my cock too overwhelming. Too good.

She sucked and teased, driving me half out of my head, my chest rising and falling quickly with every delicious stroke of her mouth.

“Haven.” It sounded like a moan and a laugh and a prayer for deliverance.

She raised her head, releasing me from her grasp and then stood, my sudden despair turning to joy when she pulled her dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.

She was naked beneath it.

“Hallelujah,” I said and Haven laughed.

She reached down and pulled something from what must have been the pocket of her dress and held it up. A condom.

“Hallelujah,” I said again. It seemed it was the only thing I was capable of saying at the moment. Because it was the only word flashing in my head.

HallelujahHallelujahHallelujah.

Haven tore the condom open and slid it on, her brow knitted in concentration as she performed the task.

“I stole this from my brother’s drawer,” she informed me. “There’s your vengeance,” she said, meeting my gaze, her lip quirking slightly, teasing.

Hallelujah.

She climbed astride me, placing one knee on each side of my hips and leaning forward, bringing her mouth to mine as I reached down, guiding my cock to her opening. She lowered herself at the same time I pushed upward, her tight body grasping me as I groaned into her mouth and she let out a soft gasp. “Oh God, that’s good.”

For a moment we simply breathed against each other’s mouths, our eyes opening simultaneously and meeting . . . holding. A stillness passed between us, something that somehow felt both weighty and as light as air. It felt effervescent and yet it hit me square in my gut. My heart. Haven’s eyes widened and then she blinked, swallowed, as though she’d somehow heard my thought. Her head tilted, hands reaching for my shoulders and clutching as if she was afraid of falling. She looked . . . she looked . . . the way I might have at the antique fair earlier as my world fell from beneath me. She looked like she suddenly wanted to run, but our bodies were connected, eyes held. “What are you thinking?” I whispered.

She sucked in a breath, giving her head a shake as if to dispel whatever thoughts had put that expression on her face—wonder. Fear. Her fingers dug into my shoulders and she began to move, her eyes falling shut as I watched her. Through the haze of pleasure, I had the strange sense she was running from me, yet we could not have been any closer. I sat up to meet her, bringing my lips to hers and kissing her deeply. Stay. She melted against me, her body relaxing as she continued her slow undulations.

God, it was good. It was sweet and it was hot and I never ever wanted it to end.

She’d said she wasn’t a great dancer, but she could move. I watched her, awestruck. The visual of her slow, erotic hip rolls. The slight bounce of her perfect breasts. The way her internal muscles clenched and slid.

I was going to die of pleasure.

Her grip tightened on my shoulders and, for a few minutes, she rode me slowly, small, bliss-filled gasps falling from her lips with each downward press.

She leaned back slightly and for a few moments we both watched as the hard peaks of her nipples rubbed against my chest. “Oh, Travis. God. Everything. I just . . .”

Me too. Me too.

Despite the slow rhythm, I felt my orgasm stirring and squeezed the arms of the chair, trying desperately not to come before she did. “Haven,” I gasped, and as if she heard my desperation in that one uttered word, she sped up, digging her nails into my skin, and riding me in earnest.

I moved my hands around her body, cupping her ass and taking some of the weight off her thighs, which had to be aching. The pads of my fingertips pressed into the skin around the place we were connected, slick with her arousal, the juices not only assisting in my effortless glide in and out of her body, but running down her thighs. The knowledge of the extent of her lust caused a dizzying swirl of excitement to cascade through my body, tightening my stomach muscles, and sending shock waves to my cock.