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“Sweetheart, I need to be inside you.” He grabbed a condom from the pocket of his discarded jeans.
“Let me.” She took it and encouraged him to lie on his back so she could straddle him. Her assertiveness astonished him, turning his arousal up to a level he didn’t think possible. Any higher and his balls might never recover. Deftly, she rolled on the condom.
“I thought it had been a while,” he said, his tongue thick and rubbery. “Oh, I’ve been keeping my hand in. Practicing on bananas.”
He laughed loudly, so at odds with what they were doing. Until Lili, he’d never wanted to laugh and fuck a woman at the same time. That quiet, dry humor of hers gave him as much pleasure as her clever hands and her lush body.
“Take off your bra.”
Eyes never leaving his, she unhooked and released her perfectly-sculpted breasts.
“Look at you. So beautiful.” And she was. Achingly so. He ran his hands over her breasts, loving how responsive they were to his touch.
“Oh, Jack,” she murmured with a vulnerability that knocked his heart clear across the room.
He propped up on one elbow and gentled her head toward his. She needed to understand what was happening here even if he hardly understood it himself.
“You slay me, Lili DeLuca. Utterly, completely.”
He heard her breath trap in her throat. Tears pooled in her eyes, flecking her lower lashes like diamonds when she blinked, but then she regrouped. Those shiny blues now blazed, fired with desire and longing and maybe some of that confidence he had to spare.
“Jack, I need you.” And with that, she lowered herself onto him slowly, so slowly he feared his brain would melt. He grasped her hips and pulled her down a couple of magnificent inches to the tune of her satisfied sigh.
“Don’t stop,” he said. “Feels so good.”
She took him in a little further, panting while her body softened and adjusted. His cock thickened beyond what he thought possible and a winding pressure built at its base. Her tight, wet heat wrapped around him. Her fire, her body, his Lili. All wrapped around him.
Anchored to her, he knew that finally he was exactly where he was meant to be.
Thirty-One
Lili’s body was hyperaware, every nerve teased and tensed. She had never felt so desired.
So powerful. Jack had gone months without sex; he could have any woman he wanted, but he had held out for her. Okay, he’d held out three days for her but still.
Her planned outrage had fizzled the moment he opened that door and she saw a hollow-eyed Jack staring back at her. Hurt made people act ten kinds of crazy and while she was the kind of person who internalized her pain, Jack wore his emotions on his sleeve, then wanted to talk about the soiled shirt. Passion that raw scared the hell out her, but she knew she was the person to fill those deep pockets of sadness he wore, to give him what he needed and get what she needed in return.
This time, this place, they could do for each other what no one else could.
As she rolled her hips, he arched to meet her, his fingers digging into her flesh so hard she suspected she might have bruises later. She contracted her muscles around his length, muscles that hadn’t been used in a while, and imagined they would have something to say about that later, too.
He lightly brushed his knuckles against her breast. A shivery tease, but she needed it rougher. She leaned into his touch, urging more pressure, and his thumbs dragged over her nipples and rolled. She almost died from pleasure. He slid his hands under her famous butt and raised it a couple of inches, reminding her of where she was. What she was doing. Jack was buried inside her and a man’s hardness had never felt this good.
“Move with me,” he panted.
Slowly, she slid up, down, accelerating the pace in rhythm with the urgency of his hands.
Every motion was slick and wet, pulsing through her with fluid heat.
He cupped her neck and drew her close. Their mouths joined hungrily, tongues meeting and getting along like a house on fire. She licked his stubbled jaw, his scar, his gorgeous, crooked mouth. Her own personalized tasting menu. Jack a la carte.
The brush of his chest hair tickled and warmed her breasts, a strangely comforting sensation in the midst of all this down and dirty lust. She continued to slip up and down, her clitoris getting the love against his sleek, thick length. Arousal, sharp and urgent, surprised her and she moaned softly.
“Better,” he said. Not a question, just a statement of fact.
“Yes.”
He knew the right angles, the right moves, the right pressure. He knew her body and what she needed. He was in her head, reading her lusty thoughts before they could fire. Yeah, just there. Baby, so good. Never, never stop.
