An Act of Persuasion - By Stephanie Doyle Page 0,4

of weeks.

With one hand on her hip guiding her, the other wrapped around his cock, he pushed her down on him. His first thrust only got him halfway there as he registered her tightness and considered maybe it had been as long for her as it had been for him. Undaunted he used both hands on her hips now and pushed her down while he thrust up.

There. He was inside her deep, all the way to his balls and she was panting a little in his ear.

“Okay?” He nearly choked the word out.

“Hmm.”

That simple response was enough. He leaned against the couch, planted his feet solidly on the floor and began a steady pump of his hips. Anna kept her balance by holding on to his shoulders as she found his rhythm and moved with him, coming down on him while he was pushing up into her.

Yes. There it was, the liquid heat moving through his body and his brain making him feel strong and warm. Like a king. While his woman was on top of him, riding him, taking his cock deep as if she lived to do so.

Her pleasure. He hadn’t thought enough about it. He slid one hand up her stomach until he was cupping her breast again. Toying with the nipple that was as hard and as delicious as a raspberry. His other hand slipped to where their bodies were connected. He could feel the wet silky heat of her folds and he stroked her there on the outside of her body as he continued to stroke her on the inside.

Her orgasm came over her suddenly and her whole body twisted on his like she was caught up in a tornado and helpless against its power.

“Again,” he said, wanting her to do that all over. He wanted to feel the way she tightened around him; he wanted to watch the way her breasts jiggled. And next time he wanted to hear her. Because while her body told him what she’d felt, she hadn’t made a sound.

At his command, she only whimpered.

“Tell me,” he murmured, moving his hand from one breast to the other. “I want to hear you.”

He pinched her nipple between his fingers until she gasped. There. That was the sound he wanted. Then his thumb found the perfect spot between her legs and pressed.

“Ben,” she moaned.

“Yes, Anna. That’s my girl. Come now.”

He saw her body start to move again but then he was lost to the rest of it as his body took over and started demanding its own conclusion. He thrust hard and heavy, nearly lifting them both off the couch with his need.

It came crashing down on him, that perfect rush of ecstasy. He hugged her to his chest as his body poured himself deep inside her.

Alive. Still alive.

When it was over he collapsed against the couch. His arms felt too heavy to lift anymore and his legs were like big blocks of useless bone. Anna was still pressed against him, her now sweat-slick body stuck to his stomach and chest, while her head rested on his shoulder.

The loose mess of her hair tickled under his chin as together they struggled to get their heartbeats regulated.

He closed his eyes and, without being able to stop it, he felt himself drifting to sleep.

Surely, she would want to talk. All women wanted to talk.

And Anna would want to talk more than most.

When he woke up he was disoriented as he tried to place where he was. He hated the sensation.

In his life before going private, he’d trained himself so that, upon waking, he was fully cognizant of his surroundings and ready for action. For a man who rarely fell asleep in the same place two nights in a row this was an important skill.

Now his body determined when he fell asleep and sometimes it didn’t give him the benefit of foreknowledge. Traitorous machine.

He was in his office. On his couch. His pajama pants had been fully removed and were folded next to him, his robe had been wrapped securely around him and a throw blanket covered him from shoulders to feet.

Anna.

Maybe this was a good sign, he thought. Maybe falling asleep postcoital spared him a nasty scene. It was completely conceivable she also realized what a mistake they had made. It was possible she was as embarrassed as he was.

They could simply ignore that the sex had happened, or shrug it off as a temporary lapse in judgment. Between his illness and the stress