The soft pads of his fingertips circle my breasts before gliding down my stomach, goosebumps chasing after them. And when they dip between my thighs, I arch into them.
His laugh rumbles against my mouth, low and wicked. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes.” My nails scrape lightly down his back, and he shudders. “But quiet.” I don’t want anything to break this moment, not even our voices. I just want to feel.
Jack must agree with my plan because without another word, he rolls me beneath him with an ease that makes me immediately forget how to breathe. His weight pins me in the best way, heat seeping through every place our bodies touch.
I expect urgency, another round of last night’s desperate hunger. But this is slower, indulgent. Jack kisses me like he’s memorizing the taste, like he can’t quite believe I’m here, letting him in again.
My hands trail lower, deliberate now that I’m not as ravenous or rushed, mapping the strong lines of his back, squeezing the firm curve of his ass.
Jack groans at my shameless exploration, hips flexing toward me, his cock pressing hard against my stomach.
Set on testing every reaction, I slide my hand between us, finding him thick and already straining. Wrapping my fingers around him, I stroke once, then again, teasing.
“Audrey…” It’s a plea and a warning.
One I take no heed of as I circle the tip with my index finger, smearing precum around the ridge, savoring the way his eyes darken.
The blanket slips as he rises up, bracing on his knees. I don’t have time to be embarrassed by my vulnerable sprawl or to worry about what I look like in the morning light streaming through my bedroom window. Because I see him. And Jack Lourd has never looked better than when the only thing grazing his body is sunlight.
His shoulders are broad, his chest lightly dusted with hair that matches his dark-chocolate eyes. His biceps flex as he grabs my legs, pulling them toward him until my ass slides up his thighs. My stomach, soft as it curls in this new position, feels exposed—until I notice the ridges of his impossibly defined abs and think how unfair it is that a man who eats at least one whoopie pie a day looks carved from stone.
And then thought vanishes, because he’s pushing into me.
The pressure. The stretch. The heat. All of it burns away any lingering thought.
Jack’s head falls back, exposing the sinewed tendons of his throat. “Fuck.”
My legs tighten around him automatically, pulling him deeper.
“Audrey.” Large hands grip my hips, and he thrusts once—twice, his breath ragged. “You feel…” He groans, moving again, first shallow, then deep, then shallow, dragging me to the edge with each deliberate rhythm.
“So good.” The words spill out before I can stop them, half plea, half dare.
His eyes burn, his pace quickens as his mouth crashes back to mine, and the world narrows to heat and rhythm and the dizzying ache of wanting.
Wanting him.
Maybe wanting too much.
But the thought is gone as his cock finds that perfect spot inside me, setting me free of every second-guess as I ride the wave of release. My cry echoes in the room, my hands grasping at his wrists, nails biting into his skin as pleasure rips through me.
Jack curses, low and rough, as my body clenches around him. His rhythm stutters, then drives harder, faster, until with one final thrust he spills into me with a guttural groan that vibrates through my bones.
My bed frame creaks in protest as Jack lowers himself over me, his weight delicious and grounding, his chest heaving against mine.
I smooth a hand down his back, feeling the tremors still shivering through him. He nips at my jaw, then presses his forehead to mine, laughter ghosting over my lips.
“I’m pretty sure that counts as my cardio for the day.” He places my hand on his chest, the feel of his heartbeat pounding wild against my palm.
I smile, breathless, and don’t move my hand. I just keep it there, memorizing the rhythm that proves I’m not the only one who’s undone.
Jack
“Let’sjust head to the market.” Audrey yawns the words as she steps out onto Main Street and turns to lock the door behind her.
The woman’s running on sugar, orgasms, and sheer stubbornness, and I know burnout when I see it.
