Jamie cupped her face. Massaging her jaw between his thumbs, he coaxed out a fractured whimper and everything else she’d felt since that red carpet.
His pressure was firmer than she expected, his lips velvety soft and so fucking warm as they glided against hers. Brinton sucked his tongue deeper into her open mouth until she swallowed his defiant groans.
Suddenly, he broke their kiss.
“You ever been fucked by a country boy?” Jamie asked, dragging his thumb from her jaw and down her throat.
She shook her head, whining in protest.
“Mm, I highly recommend it.”
Slowly, Brinton traced the thin gold chain around his neck, which gleamed beneath the blue fluorescent lights. It felt cool between her fevered fingers. Something about it—the unabashed sluttiness, the inferred dominance—made her feral.
She wanted to grip it with her teeth.
“Come here,” he growled, so low that the apex of her thighs flooded with warmth.
Brinton lifted her chin to meet his lips, but Jamie wrapped the length of her ponytail around his fist, giving it agentle tug that cracked her open like an egg. It thrilled her. Almost as much as she liked him telling her what to do. Her body throbbed with need.
She raked her nails down his back, showing him how much she wanted him, even if it frightened her to say. She didn’t want to wake up from the fantasy. Her cruel inner monologue reminded her daily that she wasn’t quite good enough for anyone’s time, care, or respect.
But Jamie, this living, breathing Adonis, saw something in her she didn’t previously see in herself. Now, little by little, she could.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she moaned instead. This didn’t happen to women with baggage like hers.
His mouth claimed hers again, and her body vibrated.
His thick erection nudged her cleft. A wicked grin spread across his perfect lips. “Believe it now?”
“Fuck, Jamie…”
When he moaned in her mouth, she sucked his bottom lip, delighted to know he was as wrecked as her.
Brinton laced her hands through his hair, silken waves with earthy notes of sandalwood. She relished how his back and shoulders tensed each time she tugged. The power she felt was unmatched.
“I like that,” he breathed against the shell of her ear.
“Show me.”
He laughed, low and dark, then flooded each side of her neck with feathery kisses. “Tsk-tsk,” he teased. “I told you, I’m gonna take my time.”
Jamie’s fingertips traversed the length of her arms, prompting her nipples to tighten so intensely that her eyes rolled backward. Her nails sank into his biceps.
He was barely even touching her and she was embarrassingly wet. Needy for him to do something.
Touch me. Take me. Fold me in half.
As if taking the cue, Jamie’s hands found the hem of her cut-offs. He massaged the frayed denim, a few inches from where she wanted him most.
“These fucking little shorts,” he said, voice as smokey as the añejo shots inside the bar. “Been driving me crazy all night. The way you move in them should be a crime.”
“I can’t be held liable for gravity.” She laughed.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His sweet breaths coated her lips like nectar.
Jamie’s hands slid to her ass. Brinton gasped, enthralled when he roughly massaged each cheek.
“I love your body.” He grunted softly. “Every damn inch of you is perfect.”
