Page 35 of A Second Chance for Love

“Please,” she whimpered.

“You want more? You want my mouth on you?”

“Mmmph.” She nodded jerkily, her head tipping back, her pelvis lifting in silent entreaty. Juss gave a soft laugh of triumph and closed his mouth on her, working her ruthlessly toward her climax. He moved to her entrance when her peak became too sensitive, replacing his finger with his tongue. She was even tight around his tongue so he slid in first one and then two fingers while she writhed, scissoring gently, stretching her snug passage and getting her ready.

“Shall I make you come?” he asked in a voice rougher than gravel, his fingers pumping her, harder now.

She shuddered at his crude words. “Yes, please. Juss . . .”

She was so sensitive that he’d barely begun before she was bucking and grinding into his mouth, her small hands laced into his hair and holding him steady while she used his mouth for her own pleasure.

He needed her right bloody now.

Juss pushed onto his knees while the waves of pleasure wracked her body, lifting her legs over his forearms and bringing her hips toward him. “Take me in your hand, Oona—guide me inside your body,” he rasped.

She complied with shaky, clumsy urgency and he pulsed his hips gently against her, but not enough to breach her, just stroking her slick softness with his sensitive crown, teasing, pushing in a little more with each stroke until his fat head was inside.

He groaned. “You feel so good. I won’t last, Oona, I’m sorry. I won’t—” Juss’s cock took control of his body and he entered her in a long, hard slide, not stopping until his balls rested against her spread sex. He hesitated a moment, vaguely aware he’d taken her harder than he’d intended, wondering if he’d hurt her, wondering if—

Her sheath tightened around him. And that was all it took.

∞∞∞

Oona imagined it was what being caught in a hurricane or electrical storm must be like—a force of nature that could not be stopped.

His powerful hips drummed savagely, his strength alone an aphrodisiac. Oona remembered how to tighten her inner muscles and then relax them the way Edward had told her to do and Juss shuddered and groaned.

“Yesss,” he hissed his eyes closed, his expression one of bliss.

The two men were as different in bed as they were in every other way. Juss was earthy, enthusiastic, and generous—just as he was in the rest of his life. Never had she guessed a man could—or would want to—give her such pleasure. A pleasure she had only ever given herself in the past.

“Oona,” he rasped breathlessly, capturing her with his slitted gaze, his teeth gritted in a snarl, and his nostrils flaring. “Going to—” he grunted, his thrusts becoming jerky and uncontrolled. He stopped with shocking suddenness and pulled out of her, pumping his long, slick shaft once and then twice before his body went rigid.

“Oh God.” The muscles of his chest and abdomen became even more defined with each spasm, the cords of his throat strained and distinct as hot ropes ribboned over her belly and breasts.

Oona could not look away. He was so big and ruddy, the veins that ran up and down his shaft were visibly pulsing each time he spent. He was an erotic work of art, hard and slick and lost to his passion.

The last shudder produced barely a drop from the small slit and he groaned, a massive shudder wracking his huge frame as he dropped down beside her, his body shaking the bed so hard that the Cantrells, who slept below them, must be staring at the ceiling and wondering if the roof had caved in.

He pushed himself almost drunkenly off the bed onto his feet and then bent to snatch something from the floor—his shirt. Oona frowned. Was he getting dressed already? What was he—

“Here.” He lowered the shirt over her stomach.

“No, you’ll—”

“Shh,” he murmured, mopping up all trace of his spend.

“You’ll ruin it,” she said, almost more breathless at his careful cleaning than she’d been before.

“Then it will be ruined,” he grumbled. “The water in the basin is too damned cold and those towels are as rough as tree bark.” His hot eyes burnt over her body. “And you should never have anything but the finest, softest silk touching your beautiful skin.”

Oona gaped.

He gave his signature smirk and then used the shirt to dry himself before tossing it off to the side and collapsing onto the bed beside her.

“Oona.”

Never had anyone said her name with such utter and thorough satisfaction. He reached an arm over her and grabbed a handful of bedding, pulling it over her body, tucking her tight to his muscular form from shoulders to hips and then heaving a huge sigh.