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Before I knew what had happened, Jake had flipped me, pinning me underneath him. “To go slow,” he ground out. He was resting on his forearms, pressed against me and inches from my face. His breath stirred the fine hairs at my temple when he spoke. “But something tells me slow isn’t really your style…”
“What gave it away?” My voice was devoid of humor. I had never needed someone so badly.
Jake used his nose to nudge mine. “It was a toss-up between the way you were trying to shred my shirt like a puma and how you were enthusiastically grinding against me.” His eyes held nothing but mirth, but he had the good sense to refrain from laughing.
“Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I tossed out.
“Oh, I very much liked it,” he retorted. But, unlike me, he was controlled. His every move seemed to be premeditated. He was the eternal flame and I was the unpredictable firecracker. And right now, I was about to explode.
He knew what he was doing to me. He was enjoying it, even. I wiggled under him, tilting my center against him. Besides begging, there was nothing else I could do that would be more obvious.
Jake began to move against me and I took the opportunity to pull him closer with my heels. The friction offered little in the way of relief, but it was painfully obvious that I had to take what I could get.
Then, his mouth found my throat, sucking and licking like he had bitten into a juicy peach.
I went for his belt. I made a vow to myself that if the button and zipper on his shorts were just as sturdy as his shirt had proven to be, I’d find his closet and burn every last piece of his clothing. Or keep scissors on me at all times.
Thankfully, they gave way easily and though my arms weren’t sufficiently long enough, I ended up hooking my big toes into his waistband and began to shimmy them down. It was awkward to say the least, but Jake took the hint and kicked them off the rest of the way.
“Your turn.” His voice was gritty and gravelly.
He propped himself up and was leaning back on his heels. My knees came up while he removed my shorts. His eyes roamed over every inch of me and I grew self-conscious lying in front of him in nothing but my bra and panties.
“Wow.” Jake’s voice faltered. “You’re stunning, Luce.”
His words were tender and honest, unlike anything I’d been told before. Somehow sentiments likeyou’re hotanddamn, babe(even though they were well intentioned) just fell short of sincerity. And maybe up until now, I didn’t know what I’d been missing out on. It had always been about reaching the finish line quickly; foreplay took too long. It was something that invariably got in the way. But now, with Jake, it was breathing new life into me.
I got to my knees, mirroring his stance. “Say it again,” I instructed.
His eyes softened while his mouth curved up. Gently, he cupped the side of my face, reading my expression. “You’re—”
“No,” I interrupted, shaking my head in his hand. “The other part.” I didn’t care that my voice came out tiny or that my eyes were downcast shyly.
He observed me sweetly. Jake leaned down slightly, tilting my chin up with a finger. He placed a chaste kiss on the side of my mouth and whispered, “Luce.”
It was like flipping a switch, a switch I never knew existed until a week ago. Jake’s voice had a lovely cadence on any given day; it wasn’t nasally or high pitched, but a perfect combination of raw masculinity paired with sensual tenderness. And it did things to me.
My arms snaked around his neck aggressively. His hands splayed across my lower back possessively. We became a tangle of limbs, each of us more desperate to be closer. Pulling. Grabbing. Colliding.
We fell to the mattress, rolling around. When we finally came to a stop, Jake was above me, caging me in with his arms. His hair had grown wild from our efforts making him look like a rugged model.
“What are you thinking about?” he wondered, breathing with a slight labor.
“Uh, why we’re not naked yet,” I snarked, poking a finger into his chest. “I want to see all of you.” I whined. And I didn’t care. I was well past the point of trying to be elusive with my feelings or sexy in my deliveries.
“Sit up for me.” Deftly, Jake unhooked my bra and tossed it. The space would look like a dressing room at a TJ Maxx on a sale day by the time we were through.
He lowered himself once more, giving much needed attention to my breasts. Inaudible murmurings floated from my lips, my ability to forms words long since passed. My hands slid into his hair and my nails scraped at his scalp. Jake moaned against me in response while hundreds of goosebumps peppered his arms.
And then he slid lower, leaving a scorching path down my ribcage, my stomach, and my hips. My head pressed into the mattress and my eyes screwed shut, waiting, enjoying the sensation from his mouth alone.
Dipping lower, kisses were replaced with flicks of his tongue, gentle suction with his lips, and raspy scrapes of his beard. It was too much and not enough.
The fuse had been lit long ago and now I was a ticking timebomb, seconds from detonation. I was powerless to stop the release even if I wanted to.
But as my body began to thrum, I gave in, knowing that if Jake was that good with his tongue, he’d prove better in other areas.
This wouldn’t be my last orgasm. As an overachiever, he wouldn’t allow it.
