Hannah and the Hitman

Chapter 35

35

JACK

I loved her pussy. With my hands on her thighs holding her open from behind, I licked and learned every swollen inch. What made her gasp. Startle. Moan. Drip. Then I got my fingers in her, knowing her secret sweet spot when she moaned my name with sultry abandon. That didn’t even include that she’d thought about ass play and wanted it.

I looked forward to teasing her, edging the hell out of her until she was a sweaty, desperate mess.

But not now. Not when she needed to know I would always satisfy her. That I wasn’t either one of her ex’s. That she wasn’t broken. Unappealing.

I’d never do anything to get her to say trampoline. Never push her too far. Never give her more than she could handle. Because what got her hot, got me hot.

I brought her to orgasm swiftly so she’d know she was responsive–even though her being soaked wasn’t proof enough. And very sexual.

As she collapsed on my bed in a sated, satisfied heap, I wiped my mouth once more with the back of my hand.

I could spend hours between her lush thighs. Days. The fact that she felt like she had to reciprocate meant she didn’t understand this. Yes, I wanted to make her come more than I wanted my own release. And yes, I wanted to come really fucking bad. But I got immense satisfaction, and a shit ton of caveman pride, in feeling her shift and push into me for more. Her moans. The way her pussy fucking wept for more.

She wasn’t unresponsive. She was hips up with my finger teasing her virgin ass. My handprint was a pretty shade of pink on her pale skin. She was so uninhibited. Begging. Moaning. Fucking perfect.

She wasn’t shit at sex. I’d prove that to her one orgasm at a time and if I had to, I’d keep her in my bed until then. And I hadn’t even taken my clothes off yet.

It was time for that to change.