She had him. He had let go.
It was immensely gratifying to know that he trusted her completely and that she got him so hot, so aroused, that he was willing to give in to that passion.
She could feel his balls tightening in her hand, his legs tensing. He was going to come. Bracing herself for the explosion, she felt the definite feeling of triumph sweep over her. It would be impossible to ever feel this way with any other man. She was certain of it, high on that knowledge, and she was going to let him burst into her mouth, something she never did.
But Diesel had different ideas. He moved so fast, she almost fell backward, but he steadied her after he pushed her off of him. Then before she could react or gauge his intent, he had her turned around. With a tug, he tore her panties with a snap of the side string.
Holy shit. He had torn her panties. There wasn’t anything hotter. And when he pulled her back down toward him, she understood his intention, and sucked in a sharp breath of anticipation.
A second later his erection was pushing into her, her body dropping down onto him from gravity, and it was a hot, delicious collision, the angle forcing his c**k to stretch her open for him.
“Oh, Diesel,” she told him, reaching blindly for the arms of the chair for stability.
He slapped her ass cheek. “Up and down. Come on, baby. Fuck me.”
You didn’t have to ask her twice. Tuesday put her feet on his and lifted herself up and down onto him, the position pulling her down with a nice hard bounce each time. His hands gripped her waist and he aided her movements.
Then he did something that he’d never done before. He bit her shoulder and came as he pounded into her, like he was bearing down on a leather strip during nineteenth-century surgery. He had never come before her. Ever. He always made sure she’d had two, three, sometimes four orgasms before he came. But now he just gripped her with teeth and hands and exploded inside her. It was so powerful she almost lost her balance, but she held on, and knowing what she had done to him sent her hurtling into her own orgasm.
It was so intense from the angle that the room actually went fuzzy in front of her, light-headedness forcing dancing spots in front of her. For a second she thought she was actually going to faint, the pleasure ripping through every inch of her, taking her somewhere she had absolutely never been before, in and outside of her body all at once.
When the spots receded and her body settled down into little spasms, Tuesday shook her head, shocked. Diesel’s head was against her back, his slick forehead between her shoulder blades.
“What the hell was that?” she finally asked with a little laugh.
His c**k jumped a little inside her and she shivered from the aftershocks.
“That was perfection,” he told her. He kissed the spot where he had bitten her. “Sorry, I left a mark.”
“I don’t care.” She didn’t really care about anything but him at the moment.
His hands were running down her sides, and it felt sweaty and intimate and important. She wouldn’t, couldn’t do what she had just done with anyone else.
Standing up carefully, she pushed the remnants of her underwear to the floor and reached back for his hand. Pulling him out of the chair, together they stumbled three feet to the bed and laid down on it face-first.
“Mmm,” was his opinion, his hand on her waist. “That was good head, sweetheart.”
How bizarre that his praise for her o**l s*x skills made her want to blush with pride. “Thank you.”
She draped her hand across his chest, her eyes fluttering, not sure if they wanted to stay open or close. They should go under the covers, but it seemed like too much work to move, and she was feeling very, very content.
Sleep was closing in on her when Diesel murmured in her ear, “Would it make you run if I said that I love you?”
Her eyes flew open. He was watching her, steady, calm, just like always. Yet there was something else . . . the truth behind his words was in his eyes.
Holy shit. He loved her.
Even as her heart started to race and she felt giddiness creep over her, she matched his casual tone. “No. Would it make you run if I said the same thing?”
“Nope.”
“Cool. Because I do. Love you.”
“So we’re on the same page then.”
“Yes.”
“Perfect.” He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“’Nite, Daniel.”
He was in love with her. She was in love with him.
Tuesday lay there, her body pleasantly sore from their powerful lovemaking, and marveled at that.
They were in love.
How awesome was that?
DIESEL stood there, dressed and staring down at Tuesday as she slept. At some point during the night, she had pulled up the comforter they’d fallen asleep on and had wrapped the right side over her so it looked like a bun holding a hot dog. Her one shoulder was peeking out, her breath steady and even.
He needed to leave and let the dog out, but was stuck there, staring at her, feeling amazingly happy. She’d said she loved him.
Women had said that to him before and sometimes it had exasperated him, sometimes it had pleased him.
Never had it made him feel like this.
This was something different.
Better.
Leaning over, he kissed her forehead. “Tuesday.”
Her eyes popped open. “Hmm? What?” She blinked at him, startled.
“I need to go. I’ll call you later.”
The shock of being woken receded and her eyes started to flutter back shut. “Okay,” she said, voice full of sleep. “You’re not going to get a haircut, are you?”
He laughed at the randomness of her question. “No.”
“Good.” She yawned. “Bye, sexy.”
When Diesel stopped to linger in the doorway and stare at her yet again, she was already back asleep.
There was something overwhelming about understanding you loved someone.
He wasn’t sure what to do with it.
But it occurred to him as he left to go take care of his dog, that if he lived with Tuesday he’d never have to crawl out of her bed and leave her.
TUESDAY finished up her blog then glanced at the thumb drive sitting on her desk still. She couldn’t avoid it forever. It wasn’t fair to her boss or her father. The benefit plans were completely under control thanks to Kendall’s assistant, and Tuesday couldn’t believe it was only a week away.
It had been almost two months since her father had died.
She hated that.
Yet at the same time, she understood now when people had told her that she would get used to it. She didn’t think about it all the time. She accepted it. But then there were moments where it slapped her in the face and she was overwhelmed by the grief. Hence the reason she’d been avoiding the thumb drive. She hadn’t wanted to read her father’s notes.