The Ashtons - Cole, Abigail & Megan

wonder.
    “Want you,” he murmured, his words coming in an agonized whisper, strangling with need.
    “Me too, want you, too,” she agreed, scraping her hands up and down his back, wishing she could just blink and have his suit coat and shirt gone.
    “Now.”
    “Oh yeah,” Megan said, mind whirling into oblivion. She couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. Just wanted him. “Now.”
    His hands came around to her front, swept up between their bodies and as he continued to nibble on her neck, his fingers made quick work of the buttons lining the front of her pale-green silk blouse.
    “Faster,” she said, amazed at the fire burning within her.
    To please them both, he grabbed the edges of her blouse and gave them a yank, shooting the remaining buttons into every corner of the room. He tugged the fabric off her shoulders and down her arms and then all that stood between Megan and Simon’s hands on her body was her bra. He made quick work of that, too, and in an instant, his hands were cupping her. His thumbs and forefingers tweaked and teased her nipples, setting off a chain reaction inside her that had Megan gasping for air and choking out encouragement.
    “Your mouth,” she whispered. “I want your mouth on me.”
    “Yes.” One word, ground out through a tight throat and Simon fought through the cloudy haze of passionobscuring every thought but need. Had to have her. Had been thinking of nothing but this for days, what seemed like years.
    Every night, she lay within an arm’s reach and was still untouchable. Every day, he tried to fill his thoughts with work, with the very thing that had been his focus most of his life. Instead, Megan was there with him, every moment, every hour. Thoughts of her plagued him, infuriated him, tortured him.
    He’d told himself only that morning that it would all be over tomorrow. That once they’d slept together, once he’d buried himself inside her, tasted all she was and all she promised, then he would be satisfied. Then his world would slip back onto the tracks and all would be as it should be.
    Now though, with her in his grasp, her warm sighs and eager hands only served to feed the need, not satisfy it.
    Dropping to his knees in front of her, he dragged his hands down the length of her body. When he hit the waistband of her skirt, he unzipped the fabric and pushed it down her legs, dragging her panties, a fragile scrap of black lace, along with it. And then she was there, in front of him, naked and willing and just as hungry as he.
    Her knees wobbled and he caught her, hands on her bottom, steadying her, even while drawing her legs apart gently, carefully, despite the urgent need inside him.
    “Simon, I want—”
    “I want, too,” he whispered brokenly. “I want you.”
    Then he leaned toward her and covered her center with his mouth. He tasted her as she gasped and swayed in his grasp. His tongue teased her center, flicking gently over the sensitive nub of flesh at her core.
    “Simon!” Her hands fisted in his hair and she locked her knees even as she leaned into him, holding him to her as if half-afraid he would stop.
    He couldn’t stop.
    Wouldn’t stop.
    Not until he felt her body dissolve. Not until he’d tasted her pleasure and experienced her surrender. Again and again, he swiped her warm flesh with his tongue, driving her higher and faster with every stroke. His grip on her behind tightened, her sobbing gasps urging him on until she cried his name and swayed violently in his grasp.
    As the last of the tremors rocked her, he eased her onto the floor, the soft fabric of the oriental rug cushioning them both. She lay, spent, staring up at him as he quickly tore off his own clothes and then leaned over her.
    “Simon, that was…” She smiled and lifted both hands weakly, as if unable to come up with just the right word.
    He did it for her.
    “…just the beginning.” Then he parted herthighs with his knee, positioned himself between her legs and slid into her slick heat with a groan of satisfaction.
    Her body closed around him, holding him tightly and Simon’s vision blurred.
    She reached up for him, taking his face between her palms and pulling him down for a kiss. Her lips parted and her tongue touched his, tangling, dancing intimately in an imitation of his body moving in and out of hers.
    Over and over, he felt the rush of desire take him by the throat and squeeze. He felt the wild fulfillment of being inside her. Of touching her so