Whenever he held me close, I couldn’t help thinking,Does he know how much I hate him? Does he see it in my eyes? Canhe tell from the way I clench my teeth instead of moaning his name?
Then he’d demand my climax, the way he’d done hundreds of times before.
And I’d ride the pleasure, despising him all the while, coming down from the high to settle in a pool of guilt.
Was something wrong with me? That I could hate a man but still feel that way when he touched me?
Now though, I want to sob in relief. With the realization that there’s not just one way to feel good with a partner. Whatever pleasure I had with my ex was hollow and terrifying.
But this, right now, fills me with warmth and power.
I’m not panicky or looking for a quick finish. I’m heavy in Roderick’s lap. Weighed down by the hot, lusty blood in my veins. Encouraged by the grunts forced from deep in his chest and the way his palms cup my ass, applying pressure in time with my movements.
I don’t want the experience to end, but I do want to know whatthisorgasm will feel like. One where I drive myself to the finish. I’m almost frantic for the sensation, to prove I can have something different. Something more.
There are points of pressure against my ass, and I realize Roderick’s fingers are digging into that fleshy part of me, encouraging me to rock harder against his cock. My tempo quickens, but I hang on the precipice, needing more stimulation to push me over.
As I tongue his strong jawline, I drag my touch down his biceps, his forearm, to his wrist. I grip him and demand control. With a slight reluctance, Roderick releases my butt. Then his chin jerks as I shove his palm under the edge of my shirt and guide him to cup one of my boobs.
“Touch me,” I command. All the while, I continue rubbing my core against him, the soft cotton of my shorts soaked with my arousal.
Roderick mutters a curse that kind of sounds like a prayer before leaning forward to bury his head in the juncture of my neck. There, he sucks on the hot skin stretched tight over my pounding pulse, even as his fingers caress and tweak my nipple.
“Keep … doing … that!” My command is disjointed, all my concentration on maintaining a steady rhythm. Why change perfection when it’s getting me exactly where I want to go?
Then his callous thumb drags over the peak and draws me to the pinnacle.
Pure, decadent pleasure.
All I can do is clutch Roderick close as my orgasm breaks through me, shattering my control like a rock through glass. I sob and clench my thighs so hard that I swear his hips will bruise. Black dots flash on the edges of my vision as the rush of blood through my ears blocks out all other noises.
Through it all, Roderick wraps his body around mine, keeping me together when I’m sure I’ll fall to pieces. His mouth stays on me, the swipes of his tongue against my skin compounded by my now-sensitive nerves.
Hell …
This was better.
All our clothes are on, and still, this was better than the reluctant pleasure I forced myself through in the past.
As the afterglow dissipates and hearing returns, I catch what Roderick has been whispering against the damp spot he made on my neck.
“My Juliet.”
25
RODERICK
My little librarian is glorious.
I’ve been with women before, but nothing has given me more satisfaction—or made my cock harder—than watching Juliet use my body to find her orgasm.
She rode me to climax, and the erotic experience will forever be burned in my mind.
It’s all I can do to keep from reaching between us to unzip my pants and free my raging erection before sinking into her soaked pussy. Damn it to the moon, I cansmellher arousal.
This beautiful, sexy, intelligent woman is in my arms and smells of sex.
Claim her,my wolf demands.
