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I moan around him.
Take him a little deeper.
Remember I have a terrible gag reflex.
Pull back so I can work the head of him with my tongue. Lips. Hand. And judging by his grunts and groans, I must be doing something right.
Some girls can suck cock all day. They just love it. All those heroines in romance novels? Oh, they make it sound like sucking dick is the greatest thing in the world.
I’m not one of those girls.
As heady as it is to have him in my mouth, I much prefer being selfish and having his mouth on me. So, as graceful as I can manage, I crawl into his lap and straddle his thighs. I link my hands behind his neck and rub myself against his shaft. It feels so good, I’m sure that I can come just like this. So sure that for a moment, I’m so concentrated on making myself feel good, I forget where I am. The sounds I make. That he’s watching.
“Damn girl…” he murmurs, sliding his hands beneath my sweater and palming both my breasts. His words—there’s something about them. The way he calls me girl. It makes me feel…filthy. And I like filthy.
I lift my head to find his eyes on me. Wild with fire and passion. “Talk to me, Jake.”
“You like when I talk to you?”
“Yes.” I grind my hips a little harder against him. “Fuck yes. Talk dirty to me. Make me feel dirty. Please. Just…I mean…Like, don’t call me names or slap me in the face or anything. You can slap my ass, though. If you want. I don’t know. Tell me what to do. I’m so stupid. I should shut up.”
“Hush, Penelope, unless you want your mouth filled again.”
I whimper. Nod. Do everything I can to tell him that’s the tone, words and filth I want him to use without actually talking. Because he told me not to. And I want to be a good fake sub and listen.
“Stand up.”
It takes me a second to comply, but eventually I manage to scramble off his lap and stand in front of him. He doesn’t touch me but the sight of his hands so close—lying motionless on his thighs—has my hips bucking toward him on their own accord.
“Strip for me.”
I blink.
“Um. Do what?”
“Strip for me, Penelope. I want to see you naked.”
I can do that.
Surely.
I take a step back from him and pull my sweater over my head. His eyes stay on mine instead of falling to my black lacy bra—one of those that are cut so low, the tops of my areolas are visible. I look down to see if something is wrong. See if I can find a reason behind him not looking. I find none.
I shrug it off and hook my thumbs into the waistband of my leggings. Only when they’re to my knees do I realize I forgot to take my boots off. So I attempt to use the toe of one boot on the heel of the other to take it off. When that doesn’t work, I hop around on one foot. Seventeen hours later, I’ve managed to remove the bastards from my feet.
Then I stand before him.
Bra.
Panties.
Goosebumps…everywhere.
“You are a fine sight, Miss Hart.” Jake takes a few seconds longer to drink me in, then stands.
He towers over me.
I look up at him.
We’re not touching.
And the lack of contact makes the promise of what’s to come even more exciting.
“I don’t want to rush this.” His fingers graze my temple and for a second, I think he’s talking about something else—that maybe he doesn’t want to rush this as in us. Together. This thing, whatever it may be, between us that’s been building since the first time he found me in his apartment. But then he clarifies what he means, and though my body heats at the idea, my heart falls a little.
“I want to take my time with you tonight. Touch you everywhere. Kiss you where I touch. Make love to you for hours until you can’t think….”
Can’t walk…
“…Can’t remember anything but how it feels when I’m inside you.”
Pretty sure I won’t ever forget if he fucks me for hours….
He takes a step back so he has a full view of me. “Take your panties off.”
Oh have mercy he said panties.
I do as he says. I even manage to do it with grace. May even look sexy.
His eyes are on my sex. “Is your pussy wet for me, Penelope?”
“It could be wetter,” I say, hoping he understands that I’m actually suggesting he put his mouth on it.
He smirks, telling me he gets it. “Now the bra.”
I frown. “I really, really suck at doing that. It’s super unsexy, too. Like I have to pull it over my head because it hurts my shoulders to—”
I stop speaking when he reaches behind me and releases the clasp with just a flick of his fingers—his eyes never leaving mine. His fingers not touching my skin.
