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“Please,” I beg, giving him what he’s wanted from the very beginning. Me. Demanding that he make good on his promise to fuck me so good, so hard, so right, I’ll forget there’s life outside his bedroom.
He smirks at me. “Say that one more time, Little Flick.”
I moan, bucking my hips against his fingers. “Please, Jackson.”
To my disappointment, he stops. Licks his fingers. Gives me a ferocious grin that curls desire in the pit of my stomach.
“Do you want me inside you, sweet?” he demands, positioning himself between my thighs. I nod. I want him too much. More than anything I’ve ever desired, and it’s scary.
Crashing his mouth to mine, he strokes my clit with his thumb. His lips smother my moans and cries as he pushes my legs further apart so that I’m completely exposed to him. “Please,” I shout.
Keeping his stare level with mine, he pulls his fingers from my sex, replacing it with the head of his cock. He pushes into me slowly, stretching me, gradually filling me with sharp pain and pleasure.
Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but when he reaches up to smooth them over my cheeks, I turn my lips into his palm and kiss him. “Please … don’t stop.”
Surging forward, he closes the space between us, and I cry out. I’m full. So achingly full, but it feels so right. I move my hips beneath him to get used to the pressure, and he releases a strangled sound.
“Are you sure you want to do that, sweet?” he demands, bending to kiss my earlobe. “You’re going down a dangerous road.”
Gripping his shoulders, I bob my head. “I want to.”
He pulls back, almost pulling out of me before thrusting into me again. I whimper as tingles race beneath my skin. It feels so good. So painfully good that I move my hips in rhythm with his as he thrusts against me.
I moan his name and when he growls mine, it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. I want to hear him call for me like this every day. I want to hear his breath coming fast and see his head thrown back in ecstasy.
And I want to feel him.
God, I want so much more of this.
One of his hands covers my breast, kneading it. I bow into his touch, every nerve in my body on fire.
“Yes. Please. More,” I pant as he thrusts into me. He strokes his hand down my body to rub my clit. “Yes.”
Hot pressure floods my body as I reach my climax. I dig my nails into his muscular shoulder as he buries his mouth into my neck, telling me it’s all right to come. That he wants to hear me come. As I come down, he pumps into me harder.
He kisses my ear, my face, my hair and then he lets out a deep groan as he thrusts into me three final times, filling me completely.
9
Jackson
She spends the next five nights with me, and I sleep better than I have since the early days of my fucked-up marriage to Jessica—before I found out that her greed ran deeper than her good looks. I fall asleep with Felicity in my arms, her soft body, damp with sweat, curled up to mine, and I wake her up every morning. With my tongue or my fingers or my cock. She’s obsessed with all three, and I’m fucking infatuated with her. I think about her at the worst times. When I’m in a board meeting. When I’m out playing golf with investors, pitying them for their gold digger wives who leach on to them with their hands outstretched. It’s ironic because money had brought Felicity into my life. I had tossed out a mind-blowing amount of money just to bed her. She’s worth it, though.
From Nate’s file on her, I had remembered her love for floral artwork and I’d contacted Lisa, an artist friend, for a piece from her latest show. When I give it to Flick on our fifth night together—right after I spend hours inside of her, going round after round—she stares at the nineteen by fifteen canvas for a long time, her naked body still.
“Elisabetta Fernando painted this,” she says, carefully thumbing the tiny signature at the bottom of the painting. “I wrote a paper about her my freshman year when we were assigned to research local businesses. Wendy and I went to her gallery and…”
When her voice breaks off, I step behind her, dip my head to her shoulder and trace my tongue over her skin. “What is it, Flick?”
“She’s the reason I got so obsessed with buying art online.” She laughs nervously, then turns her face and tilts her head back until we are eye to eye. “Cheap art. This must have cost a fortune.”
It had, and if I’d known Lisa’s work made her appreciate art so much, I would have bought out the whole gallery. I kiss her lips lightly. “And now it’s yours.”
