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He hasn’t even been inside me, and I know I’ve gone too far.
It’s in the way he looks, never taking his eyes off me, even when he fishes a condom from his drawer, ripping the foil and slipping it over his engorged cock. There’s a glint of something. The same flimsy thread I’m holding onto is daring me to snap it.
And even though his mouth hasn’t touched mine, it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it.
I feel it everywhere.
It’s dark in this room, but the moon cast enough light through windows for me to appreciate him as he stands. Our only audience is the trees howling in the wind.
Before I take my next breath, I’m on his lap, my back still flat against the sheets as he pulls my legs up around his shoulders. My body vibrates.
Anticipation courses through my veins because I know he’s big, and he’s probably going to break me, but I know I’m going to enjoy every second. I dig the heels of my feet into his shoulders, slowing him.
His chest heaves as he inches a hair closer, enough to watch my face.
I can only imagine what he sees—lust-filled eyes, no shame in how my mouth parts, or the unspoken pleas from my tongue.
That familiar smirk etches on his lips. The same lips that were wrapped around my sex only moments ago, licking me with expertise until I almost exploded on his tongue.
“Jake,” I warn, suddenly nervous.
“You can take it, baby.” He winks, and I know I’m done for.
He doesn’t thrust into me the way I expect. His knees dip into the mattress, my legs stretching higher on his shoulders. His cock slips up and down the wetness of my core, teasing my entrance, and immediately, I feel the stretch.
I whimper, shutting my eyes.
He stills, unmoving, the tip of his erection inside me. The pad of this thumb brushes my lower lip, down my throat, his hand squeezing briefly until it dips into the valley of my breasts, stopping only once to pluck at my nipple. He continues his journey, his eyes still on mine as he travels lower.
Lower.
And lower.
Pressuring his thumb against my clit, I shudder against him once more.
“Jake,” I swear.
If I cry his name one more time, it will become imprinted on my body.
It probably always will anyway.
He doesn’t give in to my begging.
And is he…grinning?
This bastard is smiling at me.
He dips his thumb into my mouth, running it along my teeth, and I bite.
Wincing, he hisses my name.
He pulls my lower lip from my teeth. “You know that drives me crazy.”
“I hope so.”
He takes his time, slowly pushing further. It takes everything in me not to scream. I dig my teeth into the knuckles of my fingers to suppress it.
The moment he sees me do it, he rips my hand away.
