Wicked was about the last word anyone would have picked to describe Cooper’s demeanor ordinarily, but there was something decidedly naughty in the way he chuckled in his throat as he lapped and twirled up and over and into Sarah. It was like a feedback loop of lust, every sigh and quiver from her intensifying his efforts, intensifying her reaction, and back again and again.<br/><br/>There were other advantages to this position than the different angle of Cooper’s mouth against Sarah’s lips. She was nicely accessible to his hands, too, as he was eager to demonstrate. One he left gripping her thigh, holding her tight to him, or him tight to her. The other he slid slowly up her body until he found one of her breasts. Fine motor control was out of the question at this point, but he still had enough brain online to gather up the soft, warm weight of her flesh and knead it.<br/><br/>“Mmm, Sarah,” he sighed against her, “Sarah...” Conflicting desires tore him in opposite directions. Send her over the edge with his mouth, or break away to strip and cover up? It seemed almost cruel to stop right at the brink, but he was aching to be inside her again. At last he couldn’t take any more. He released her breast and scrabbled open his pants, shoving them down as best he could. One last long swipe up Sarah’s cleft and he stood, shucking the rest of his clothes and staggering the two steps to the end table.<br/><br/>“Hold … don’t move …” His voice was hoarse with desire. The drawer nearly flew out onto the floor, he jerked it open so hard, and he unwrapped and deployed the first condom he found in what must have been a personal record. Then he was back and leaning over her, kissing the nape of her neck and caressing every inch of her from hips to chin.<br/><br/>“Here I am,” he breathed against her skin, and eased himself into her. “Oh, my yes...”