“Please,” she said, so softly that she considered he had simply read her mind.
Jamie tugged down her zipper. “You ain’t never gotta beg me, Bee. I’ll gladly give you what you want.”
His thumb dipped into her panties, pressing her open and gliding with gratifying ease.
Brinton’s head lolled backward against the brick wall. Her knees buckled from his long, languid circles, but she’d be damned if she told him to stop.
He felt so fucking good. Too fucking good.
Equally satisfied, Jamie groaned. He pressed the rest of his fingers into her exposed belly, grounding her into place.
Way too soon, Jamie dragged his thumb away. He slipped it between his lips. Savoring her, his eyes closed, he sucked.
“I knew it,” he said, voice strained thin. “Like pure fucking honey.”
As usual, Brinton’s anxious mind did somersaults. Her eyes squeezed shut.
How does one fuck in shorts? Why is there not a manual on this?
“You all right?” he asked, sensing her apparent agitation.
“Yeah,” she replied earnestly. “Don’t stop.”
He eased two thick fingers inside her, bringing her back into her blissed-out body. She keened like a needy cat and clenched around him.
“So damn tight, honey,” he murmured. “I fucking love it. You need more? I wanna?—”
“Do it,” she whined.
Jamie rewarded her with a third finger. Electricity propelled her hips forward as he massaged and thrusted and teased his way deeper, until she felt each of his knuckles strain inside her.
God, she needed more pressure, more ofhim.
Matching her frustration, Jamie threw his head back. His throaty groan spoke volumes.
“If we were in my bed?—”
“Yes—”
“I’d make you ride me real slow.” He hooked a thumb into her belt loop and tugged her hips forward. “I wanna watch you take me, Bee. ’Til we can’t fucking talk straight. I want you all over me.”
“You’re an artist.” She laughed, breathless. “Improvise.”
“Yes ma’am.”
Through a fiendish smile, he slipped his fingers frominside her, then hoisted her thighs around his hips until her back scraped the brick wall.
She yelped.
His eyes, navy pools beneath the blue lantern, stretched with concern. “Baby, did I hurt you?”
Brinton shook her head. It felt fucking fantastic. Crossing her ankles, she let him kiss it better.
“Do you have a?—”
“Yeah,” he answered, teeth grazing her collarbone.
When Jamie pulled the foil packet from his wallet, it triggered that familiar onslaught of panic, which clouded her mind like smog.
