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“More,” I murmur. I’m not above begging. I’m strung tight and I need his mouth on me.
“Okay.” He brushes his lips gently over my pulse. So gently that I can barely feel it. I make a frustrated sound and he laughs again, just a huff of breath, before his tongue flicks over my skin. I cry out and sag against him. It’s just a tongue on my neck, but I’ve never felt this way before, like I’m high. Jonah is a drug and I need more. I run my hands over his sides, from the cut of muscle at his groin, up his firm sides. I dig my fingers into his back, and he shudders.
I’ve spurred him into action, clearly, because he skims one hand up my side, kneading the dip of my waist, higher, higher, until his fingers trace over the top of my breast in the tank top I’m wearing. “Jonah,” I breathe. “Please.” Slowly, he leans down and flicks his tongue over the skin at my neckline. I jerk like I’ve been electrified. He makes a low sound of pleasure, grips my waist, and does it again. He’s feasting on me and I’m along for the ride. I guess this is what he meant by I can’t stop thinking about you.
“So good.” He groans. “You taste—” A soft bite at the top of my breast before he shoves my neckline down. “So good.” His voice is reverent when he bares my breasts. His tongue slowly sweeps his bottom lip. I shiver, holding myself still, waiting for him to act. I’m bared, and I should be cold, but instead I’m on fire for him.
“We shouldn’t,” he murmurs. His gaze lifts to mine, slightly glazed, a little desperate. He looks like he’s pleading with me to stop this. Hell, no. I’m not stopping.
“No one will know.” Bold words, but the desire swirling through my blood is making it hard to think.
“If we do this, you do what I say. Understand?” His voice is ragged.
“What do you mean? Like you’re into BDSM or something?”
“You could say that.” His mouth hitches in a half smile. “Just know that if you listen to me, you’ll have the best orgasm of your life. Is that enough?”
“And you won’t, um, hurt me?” My face heats. I’m so out of my depth.
He looks horrified. “I would never hurt you.” He shakes his head. “I’m not into that. Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
“That sounds pretty good.” I smile.
“Believe me, it is.” He kisses my neck again and grazes my nipple with his finger, rasping his nail gently over it until I cry out. Like he does everything, Jonah focuses on me completely. My stomach is tight with need, my hips are pressing toward him, like it will soothe the ache. And then he sinks heavily to his knees before me, and my breath stutters in my chest. His hands are careful and his body is almost shaking with need. I’m right there with him. I’ve never felt this way before—consumed by desire, like I haven’t had a drop of water in years and only Jonah can quench my thirst.
I thread my fingers through his silky hair as he runs his tongue along the top of my leggings, where my tank top has ridden up. Shivers run through me at the wetness of his tongue on my skin. He makes a low hum of pleasure before he presses his thumbs into my hips and hooks them under the waistband of my leggings.
“What is this?” This is not what I expected. I thought maybe he would be forceful, aggressive. I expected him to kiss me hard enough to draw blood, fuck me into the wall, but no.
“Let me give you pleasure.” He raises his head. His dark eyes are hazy already, half-lidded. He inches my leggings down while I hold his gaze. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”
My heart is in my throat, fluttering like a bird. I nod, desire making my insides hot and my blood sluggish. Jonah’s erection is thick under his shorts, but he ignores it in favor of pushing my leggings all the way off.
“Hands against the wall,” he growls, before pulling my lace underwear down to the ground.
He looks triumphant when I’m bared before him. And then he settles himself onto the floor, pushes my knees wider, and buries his face between my legs.
I sob out an embarrassing sound at the first touch of his mouth on my thigh. “I’m all sweaty. Are you sure?”
“Don’t question me, Thompson,” he growls, but there’s no edge to it. He licks a hot line up my thigh, lets out a groan, and twines his tongue over my clit. My hips punch off the wall right as he says, “You taste so fucking good.”
My face is red with embarrassment, like it was when Eric went down on me. It never got me there.
Jonah raises his head. “Stop squirming.” His lips are wet and his eyes are feral. He stills my hips with one large hand on my stomach and licks back into me. Sparks dance in my belly at the contact.
“Relax,” he mutters, the words vibrating against me. “Relax, beautiful.”
Beautiful. Oh my god.
Before I can think about the implication of his words, he flicks his tongue over my clit and my mind goes blank.
After a few breathless moments, I realize Jonah loves this as much as I do, maybe more.
He groans every now and then, like the pleasure is too much for him. He uses his free hand to force my legs open. His hot tongue makes long swipes through my center, then quick flicks over my clit, until I’m sobbing with pleasure. My lids flutter shut, but I force them open. I want to see all of this. He might be the biggest asshole I’ve ever known, but here? Now? He’s on his knees for me, and I can’t catch a full breath.
He murmurs words of encouragement when I cry out, but I can’t tell what he says. His tone is low and gentle, like he’s coaxing me to orgasm. Pleasure is running through me nonstop, dripping down my spine, pooling between my legs, tightening my stomach. It feels like Jonah is in control of my body, not me.
When he pushes one thick finger inside of me, we both moan. I’m close. “Please,” I whisper. “Jonah.” I think I hear him mutter a curse.
