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I pulled back then, looking into her green eyes. “I’m hungry. I’m having you for lunch.”
I dived between her legs, finding my wet prize. She smelled and tasted sweeter than cherry wine. “God, you are so hot,” I said against her thigh.
I shoved my tongue into her wet heat, slurping on her, eating her cream. Then I nibbled at her clit, and she shivered, her thighs trembling against my cheek.
She was ready. She was ready to come. So I thrust two fingers into her pussy, and she clamped around me. I reveled in her response, taking in every sigh, every moan, every sob.
“You like that, baby?”
She moaned in response and arched her back, her eyes closed.
I continued thrusting, flicking my tongue over her clit, until another orgasm started.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Let it go.”
As I said those last words, I understood why she was here. She had to let go of something. But I knew all too well that this was only a temporary escape. We would have to talk later.
I thrust one more time, and then I let her come down from her release. I stood, pulling her toward me, and lowered my mouth to hers.
“Kiss me,” I said. “Kiss me and taste yourself on my tongue.”
She moaned into my mouth, opening for me instantly. Our tongues whirled and swirled together. Her kisses were addictive, raw and addictive. I couldn’t wait any longer to have her. I slid one hand down her arm, down her thigh, to my crotch. God, I was hard. I unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my jeans, pushing them down just far enough for my cock to spring free. Still kissing her, I thrust violently into her pussy.
Her soft groan vibrated against the inside of my cheeks and my tongue.
I broke the kiss to take a necessary breath. “You like that, sweetheart? You like my hard cock in your hot pussy?”
“Yes,” she whispered, her breath wafting over my cheeks like a cool breeze. “I love it. I love it.”
Love. She hadn’t said she loved me, but hearing that word from her lips sent warmth right into my heart.
Was I falling in love with Melanie Carmichael? Could she possibly be falling in love with me?
Sex had never been so intense for me, even though she hadn’t let me do everything I longed to do to her in the bedroom. But sex wasn’t love. Even really good sex wasn’t love. Was it?
Hell, I knew nothing about love. Until I worked through the guilt that hung over me like a vulture, I had no business loving anyone.
But God, something about Melanie Carmichael made me crazy. When I had seen that friend of hers, that Oliver, with his mouth on her, I had wanted to grab him with my bare hands and strangle the life right out of him.
I thrust again and again into her. When the tiny convulsions began in my balls and at the base of my dick, I pulled out and thrust one more time into the woman who had come to mean so much to me. I groaned against her, releasing my load, seating myself to the hilt until the spasms finally stopped.
When I withdrew, her head was back, her eyes closed.
“Baby? You okay?”
“Yes.” She brought her head up and met my gaze. “Yes, I’m okay.”
I grinned. “In that case, I think we both need a
shower now.”
She grinned back.
Chapter Twenty–Six
Melanie
Jonah led me to his bedroom and through it to a decadent shower and bathroom. Showerheads came from both sides, and when he turned it on, steam rose from faucets on the side of the wall. I was wearing nothing but my bra, and he divested me of it quickly and then took care of his boots, jeans, and boxers.
