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We climb the front steps of the brownstone, and he ushers me inside, one hand still pressed to my lower back possessively. His touch is as hot as embers, burning on my skin and sending heat between my legs. In the cool marble foyer, Elena appears holding her purse, ready to head out.
“Dinner is set in the dining room. I wanted to welcome Ms. Emerson properly her first night,” she says, looking at me.
Jack nods, mumbling a stiff thank you. He doesn’t move his hand or step aside, as if there is a risk of me running away.
Elena smiles, not showing surprise that we are standing this close together. “Enjoy your evening and the rest of your weekend.”
Hearing the door click after her, we are left alone in the dim anteroom. Unexpectedly, Jack turns to me, pressing me flush against the wall. He is leaning over me, his hands caging me in on both sides of my head. His eyes are whirlpools of something menacing, spearing me with his look. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, my breath hitches. I can feel my nipples hardening, straining against my top.
Holy hell. Just what exactly do I want from this man?
“W-what are you doing?” My heart is thumping so hard that I’m surprised I don’t hear an echo. But I’m also yearning for his large, rough hands on me, equal parts dangerous and protective.
“What I should have done that first night you barreled into my life.”
My heart is stuck in my throat.
It’s as if something snapped in him. I know he made a decision, and now that he is finally doing what I was pining for, I’m scared. Of the intimacy and of the pain I know comes with the first time.
He trails a hot breath down my neck, then claims my mouth mercilessly, tongue pressing and demanding. His hand yanks at my top, ripping it and letting it fall to the floor. I gasp in surprise, my breasts revealed to him. Blushing under his gaze, I instinctively try to cover myself with my hands. Smiling, he gently grabs me by the wrists and pushes my hands away. He palms one breast, twirling his finger around my pebbled nipple, fisting and pulling my hair with his other hand. There is nothing gentle about his touch. His movements are possessive and desperate.
“Oh, Little Bird. You won’t be a virgin for much longer,” he murmurs, licking my nipple. “I should have marked you as mine that first night and saved myself this sweet torture.” He flicks his tongue back and forth, blazing and wet, eliciting a moan. His hand reaches for my shorts, burning my skin. Unceremoniously, he unbuttons it and tugs it down, then yanks at my panties and rips them to shreds in one clean swipe. I shiver, naked and exposed, suddenly scared by his relentless possession.
But let’s be honest. I want to be his more than I want my next breath.
“If you only knew what I thought, watching you in that small outfit, swaying your hips to the music, not a care in the world. Not realizing what you’re doing to the audience.”
I’m not sure I want to hear it, too scared of what’s coming. But I can’t stop myself from asking him anyway. “Tell me.”
“I wanted to pounce on you, drag you home, mark you,” he murmurs through a scorching breath, sending me into a frenzy. “There’s no going back now, Little Bird,”
Arousal bursts through me, making me heady. As I hook a leg around his waist, he lifts me by the other, and I’m now wrapped around him, my arms gripping at his shoulders. He carries me upstairs effortlessly. Although I’m scared of the unknown that’s coming, I feel safe in his arms.
“I’ll make this good for you,” he whispers, noticing that I can’t stop shaking. My head is buried in his neck, his touch allowing me to let go of my fear.
Once upstairs, I barely get a look at the twilight illuminated room. Dark masculine colors, modern, minimalist furniture adorns a clean, tidy space. He places me gently on his bed, and I sprawl on it, looking at him pull off his clothes. Quick and ceremonial, until he stands bare in front of me, his body a work of art. It’s not dark yet, and sleepy sunrays are dancing on sharp indents of his muscles. His cock is bobbing in front of him, and although I have seen him and tasted him before, realizing that he will spear me with it has my heart racing in fear. He looks primal, dangerous.
I lift up on my elbows, my gaze trained on his erection in panic.
As if reading my mind, he smirks. “I’ll go easy on you.”
He flanks both sides of my body with his arms, his eyes glowing like bonfires in the darkness. He leans over me and starts trailing his lips over every inch of my body, marking me. There’s a tremor in his kiss, as if he is holding back. I love being under him, and I crush my body against his, arching my back and leaning into his touch.
“Relax, Little Bird. Let me make you mine on my terms,” he murmurs as he slides a finger against my opening. Arousal spreads from my sex all over my body. Nothing has ever been inside me except for his tongue and the gentle swipe of his fingers.
“Do you like it when I touch you like this?”
“Yes.”
His hand leaves a burning imprint.His fingers draw a circle around my clit. “And like this?”
“Jack . . .”
“Should I taste you right here?” His voice is dark as he bends his head.
The first lick of his tongue makes me arch my back, searching for friction. He holds me by the hips, keeping me steady as he slides his tongue up and down my sex, each time stopping to gently nibble on my clit, my toes curling.
“You taste like rain when I’m fucking dying in the desert,” he says, then puts his tongue back on me.
