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“Well, I guess I shouldn’t disappoint then,” he growled.
“What?”
“If the stereotype is that I’m a bad boy, I’ll play the part.”
He grabbed my arms and rolled me over until he was looming above me. His hands worked fast to unbutton my shorts and yank them down my legs. Even if I wanted to stop, my body wasn’t letting me. I stared at him as he undressed me, his eyes constantly moving up and down my nakedness. Surprisingly, I felt sexy, empowering, and very horny. He sat next to me and licked his lips before leaning down and kissing my neck. His hands were on my breasts, squeezing them together and sliding his thumbs over my nipples. The rough sensation jolted through me while his lips left a path of electricity along my flesh. He moved his head down, his mouth trailing kisses over my collarbone and down to my breasts. He sucked my nipple into his mouth and his tongue circled around it, throwing my arousal into overdrive. I pushed my head back and fed my hands into his hair. His hand ran down my stomach and slid between my legs, cupping my pussy. He pushed his palm into my most sensitive parts and moved it back and forth, grinding against my clit. I opened my legs, inviting his advances and silently begging for more. His finger slid inside me and fucked me slowly as his mouth did magical things to my nipples. My arousal built into an orgasm that threatened to slam into me as he played my body like an instrument. My breathing turned to panting, and I was grabbing at anything I could get my hands on.
He stopped just before my orgasm took over and looked down at me, a smile wide on his lips. Before I could beg, he pulled his jeans and boxers off his legs and sat down next to me. He scooped me up, pulling me over him, directing my legs on either side of him. His hands were in my hair, and his mouth was on mine. He feasted upon my lips, devouring my mouth with his and pushing his groin up into mine. I could barely breathe when he lifted my ass off him. I held my breath, feeling the tip of him tease my center.
He wrapped his arms around my waist and looked up at me. “Your move.”
I held my breath and steadied my trembling lip between my teeth. I smiled and pushed down on him slowly, feeling each inch of him enter me. He was big, stretching me wide, a hint of pain mixing with the pleasure of it all. He was delicious looking up at me as I coaxed him inside me. I felt like I was in a dream. Was I really in the back of my jeep with a man I barely knew? Was I really naked with a tattooed bad boy I had no business getting involved with? Devlin was textbook bad boy and not my type whatsoever. But I couldn’t control myself when I was with him and I was enjoying every second of it.
He pushed into me, rocking my hips back and forth and he sighed, his head falling back. I moved up and down on him, my arousal rebuilding, seeping through me, wrapping around me.
When my delayed orgasm returned, it did so with a vengeance. It grabbed ahold of me and wouldn’t let go. Every muscle in my body tightened and pleasure flooded through me. He tightened his hold and grunted, his hands holding me close. The world around us fell away, and nothing else existed. Devlin pushed my hair from my face after my orgasm and tenderly kissed my nose. I responded with moving my mouth to his and moving back and forth on his lap. He held on and groaned with pleasure.
For several moments, he kept his head tight to my chest. Something was troubling him, or I had gotten to him more than I had expected to, or he was savoring the moment. Whatever it was, he didn’t let me go.
The best feeling I had was being next to him curled up in the back of my jeep with my hand resting on his chest. I listened to his steady breathing, and it put me at ease. I felt connected to him as his fingers cascaded up and down my arm.
I traced a tattoo of an eagle across his pectorals. “Did this hurt?”
He looked down at the bird with its wings spread for flight. “Not too bad.”
“You have so many.”
“Do they bother you?”
“Not at all. They’re beautiful. Art,” I replied.
“I’m not done yet.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Still a lot of therapy to be done.” He stretched himself out, pushing his hands into the back of my seats.
“What do you mean, therapy?”
