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“You’re more than good.” When he steps towards me, I step back.
He grabs my hands, lifts them over my head, and spins me, pushing me backwards until my ass hits the door with my arms pinned above my head. Then his long, hard body presses up against mine.
His warm breath is on my face, making my hair flutter at the edges of my eyes.
“You planning on doing something now that you have me here, or are you just going to stare at me all night?” I ask, staring up at his face and really seeing him, maybe for the first time.
His face is all angular lines, strong nose, hard jawline. Days of dark stubble. The smile he’s always wearing softens his face. But he’s not smiling now. He’s gazing at me intently out of his blue eyes. He has the Waters’ blue eyes, icy blue in the center, transitioning to dark blue around the edges. Eyes that I’ve stared into my whole life in the face of my best friend, every single one of his brothers, and even his dad. But there’s a warmth and a sparkle in Jameson’s eyes that’s all his own. He’s always talking shit and making everyone laugh. All the baby fat and teen stash I remember are long gone.
Jameson looks like a man. A hot as fuck man. When did that happen? And how did I miss it?
I was probably too busy thinking about Gunnar. No, no. I will not think about Gunnar tonight. Not when I have a sexy man in my house pinning me up against my back door who actually seems interested in having sex with me. Very interested, if the hard bulge pressed into my stomach is any indication.
“You don’t have to tell me twice. Lily Wilson, I am going to own your pussy and every single one of your curves tonight. And this night doesn’t end until you come for me screaming my name. At least twice.”
“Big talk, kid,” I answer with a laugh.
I am so hot. I want this so badly. I want him so, so badly. I want him on top of me. I want him in my mouth and between my legs.
“The kid stuff ends now, Lemon. I’m all the man you need tonight.”
Jameson tilts his head down, and then his lips are pressing against me. He slides his lips over mine for a few seconds, getting the lay of the land, and then his teeth bite my bottom lip, telling me in no uncertain terms to open the hell up. When I do, Jameson slides his tongue into my mouth.
He tastes minty, like maybe he had a mint when he drove around to park at the back of my house. I probably should have thought of that. I must taste like tequila, not that Jameson seems to mind.
His tongue swipes against mine, demanding, greedy. But I’m not one to just sit here and be kissed, so my tongue slides against his, my teeth graze his tongue, as I lick and suck at him.
Jameson holds my hands above my head in one hand, but the other hand slides slowly down my arm, his fingers pressing and pulling, exploring me. His hand slides over my jaw, then my neck, and then down. When he palms a handful of my breast and squeezes, I don’t think how weird it is to have Jameson Waters’ hand on my breast. I don’t think at all, not actual thoughts, because I’m not capable of them. I only feel. Pressing away from the door, I shove my breast against his hand.
Jameson smiles against my mouth. “Like that, don’t you?”
Still sucking on his bottom lip, I nod.
Jameson leans back, staring down at my chest. When TumbleWed Mike stared at my breasts, it gave me the ick. But when Jameson does it? My nipples get hard and my pussy is throbbing between my legs.
“I need to see every inch of those big tits, Lemon. You looked real good in this dress tonight, but it’s going to look even better on the floor. Take it off.”
“Fine. Take your shirt off.”
“All you ever have to do is ask, babe.” Jameson reaches down to his waist and pulls up the black t-shirt he’s wearing, slowly dragging his hand over his abs, then his pecs, and then ripping the shirt over his head, messing up his dark hair that has just a little wave in it.
My eyes track every single movement. Every flex of sinew and muscle on the arms and man-chest in front of me. The tattoos scattered across his chest and arms without much rhyme or reason. I’ve seen Jameson without a shirt on more times than I can count. Out at the farm. Swimming at the lake. But it’s never made me feel anything like this before.
“Like what you see, don’t you? Now show me your tits, so I can like what I see even more than I already do.”
“I want you to take it off me,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. I’m not playing games, but I just can’t take another second without his hands on me.
Jameson presses his hands down on my arms and slowly raises them to my shoulders.
“The zipper’s on the back.”
He slowly turns me around to face the door. His hands explore my neck, my shoulders, my back, eventually making their way down to the zipper of my dress. His hands are slow and steady until I feel the tug telling me the zipper is all the way down. Then his hands are sliding up my back to my bra. He undoes the four clasps necessary to keep this bra on these boobs. Then he pulls me around to face him again. His hands rise to my shoulders, and he presses on my dress until it falls down to my feet. He pulls my bra down my arms and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Then he leans down and kisses the side of my left knee, picking my leg up to step out of the dress, and then does the same with my right. He tosses my dress onto the kitchen table with my bra. He leaves my panties and cowboy boots on me. When he stands up straight again, he stares at my chest. He can’t take his eyes off of me.
At that moment, it occurs to me that I’m standing in front of Jameson Waters in only my underwear, my boobs wild and free. I should feel uncomfortable. I should want to cover up. But I don’t. I like the way he’s staring at me—a mix of desperate and reverent, like he can’t believe this is actually happening. It makes me want to give him everything tonight.
“Geez, Lemon. These tits are a fucking masterpiece. I don’t think I can even catch all of them in my hands, but I’m sure as hell going to try.”
Jameson reaches down and grabs my breasts in both of his large hands, squeezing them, pushing them together, and then slowly massaging them. If I wasn’t wet already, I would be now. His fingers move like magic. How did I not know this? I see Jameson at least a couple of times a week. And he had these hands—hands that could make me feel like this—on him all of those times? How did I not fall boobs-first right on top of him? Missed opportunities.
