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“I’m giving you something you want.”
I shake my head. Swallow hard. Find my breath. And hope like hell I can be heard over the thundering in my chest. “Y-you said there wasn’t enough time. Remember? Like, two seconds ago. Not enough time. That’s what you said.”
“There’s enough time for this.”
“But I just wanted you to lick your fingers.”
“Sorry, baby.” He drags his nose across my panties and inhales. I almost die. “Like you said…” He takes this big fucking dramatic pause and winks and I’m scared that whatever he’s about to say might finish me off for good. “…I just can’t help myself.”
And…I’m dead.Chapter SixteenI’m a coming machine.
Give me the pressure of a deadline, the possibility of getting caught and Jake Swagger’s tongue and I can make it rain in this bitch.
Seriously.
Liquid kryptonite just…everywhere.
I thought I wouldn’t be able to move considering the intense tongue fucking I just endured, but like I said….
I’m a machine.
And the promise of Jake’s cock inside me puts an extra pep in my step as we exit the car, make our way through the lobby, up the elevator—me in the corner, humming like a crazy person while he watches—through the front door of his apartment and to his office.
I don’t know why we’re in his office. He just said, “office.” And I listened. Because the idea of him fucking me on his desk, picking up where he left off this morning, has me abandoning this little voice in the back of my mind that says a repeat of last night isn’t what I truly want, and has me stripping off my clothes to save time. But the walk is short so I’m still dressed from the waist down when I make it to his desk and turn to face him. And he’s….
Have mercy, he’s naked.
Not a stitch of clothing.
He’s even managed to remove his shoes and socks.
Seeing this…vision.
This…Adonis.
This…yeah, I’ve got nothing else.
Because this man is the finest motherfucker I’ve ever seen in my life and there is nothing worthy of comparison to a naked Jake Swagger. I’ve never seen him completely naked. Witnessing him bare chested was hard enough. Add some masculine feet, the calves of an athlete, a couple muscular thighs and that thing I refuse to look at that hangs between those muscular thighs, to the picture and I suddenly feel like maybe I should’ve left my clothes on.
I thought I looked good tonight.
Compared to him? I look homely as hell.
It doesn’t help my nerves any that for him to have gotten this naked in the thirteen steps it took us to arrive at his desk, he had to have pulled off some real magical shit.
“Abracadabra.” I give my imaginary wand a twirl.
He advances on me slowly. “Why are you nervous?”
I’ve watched him pull his cock from his pants. Seen it fisted in his hand. But I’ve never seen it like this. Just…swinging between his legs like a pendulum.
I close my eyes to block out the sight.
But it’s too late.
I saw it.
Swaying.
Helicoptering.
Oscillating like the blades on a Kim Jones box fan.
And I can still see it.
Behind my eyes.
Forever.
Likely the only thing I’ll ever see again.
“Penelope?”
I keep my eyes closed. “Hmm?”
“You said ‘abracadabra.’ Because you’re nervous. Why are you nervous?”
“B-because you’re naked. Got that way really quick, too. Magician moves.”
“Ahh….” I crack open one eye just in time to see him nod in understanding, three feet from me. “Magician.” Two feet. “Explains the wand.” He’s in front of me. “Touch me.”
Okay.
I’m so relieved for my fidgeting hands to have some direction, I slap them against his chest a little too hard. He stifles a groan. My palms tingle. His blood rushes to darken the handprints on his pecs. All my blood rushes to my cheeks.
“As charming as it is to see this shy and nervous version of you, I prefer the you that screams and thrashes and doesn’t give a damn about anything other than how fucking good it feels.”
My finger traces the outline of handprints. I open my mouth. Close it. Take a breath. Force myself to look him in the eye, and reveal a small truth to him. “It’s only ever felt that good with you.”
I feel his chest rumble beneath my touch, but hear no sound. He traps my wrists in his big hands and presses his forehead to mine. “That mouth of yours, Penelope Hart, will be my demise.”
The kiss that comes next is a warning as much as it is a promise. A warning that he’s about to ravage me. And a promise that I’ll love every second of it.
Though his movements are rushed and greedy, they’re precise and rewarding. He strips my pants down my legs in one, fluid motion. But when he kneels to remove my heels so he can free my pants from around my ankles, he takes a second longer to caress the arch of my foot with his thumb.
