Chapter 19
Aspen
If I’d known it was this good, I’d have
given in weeks ago.
The second Joz entered my apartment, I shoved him against the wall and kissed him like I wanted to swallow him whole. No build-up, no soft, breathless kisses, just tongue, teeth, and blazing need.
It’d been far too long since I’d had sex, and the last time I’d done it had left me feeling empty inside. A one-night stand where the guy did not like being dominated, but had no fucking clue how to dominate. Joz would know, yet he was happy to let me take the lead, and I was feral for it.
He gripped my ass in both hands, grinding me against the hard length of him. “You been thinking about this all night?”
“All night? How about for weeks.”
“You ached for me, Spitfire?” He nibbled my earlobe.
I tore at his shirt, buttons popping. “Yes. Christ, yes.” I fumbled with his pants. “Take these off.”
A low groan echoed through his chest. “You fucking turn me on when you boss me around.”
“That’s lucky, because I don’t intend to stop.”
He released me, but only to yank down his pants and boxers. He kicked them off and shrugged out of his shirt. I lowered my gaze, and my entire midsection flipped over and over like a slinky careening down the stairs.
“Jacob’s Ladder,” I husked.
“Yeah. Worried?”
“No.” I reached out, tracing each individual bar and reveling in the way his cock jumped with each brush of my fingers. “So fucking hard.”
His fingers threaded into my hair, tugging just enough to make my breath catch. “I’ve been hard for you since that first day in London. The way your nipples poked through your wet dress, yet I couldn’t tongue them and bite them, and it—you—haunted my fucking dreams for weeks.”
God, that cocky tone, that filthy mouth. I wrapped my hand around the base of him, the cool steel of his piercings digging into my palm. He groaned, dropping his forehead to mine.
“Get naked.”
“Ah, ah. I’m in charge. I’ll strip when I’m good and ready.” I moved my hand up to the next rung, squeezing lightly.
“You’re killing me,” he whispered, cords protruding in his neck as he fought for control. “Keep teasing me, Spitfire, and I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”
“Promises, promises.”
I wriggled out of his hold and walked backward toward the living room. Kicking off first one shoe, then the next, I reached behind me and unzipped my dress, pausing to let it slide down my body and gather in a heap around my feet.
No bra. No panties.
“Holy fuck.” Air whistled between his teeth as he sucked in a breath. “You mean to tell me you were naked beneath that dress all night.”
I nibbled my lip, ducked my chin, and looked at him through lowered lashes. “Uh-huh.”
“Christ. If I’d known.”
“You’d have done what?”
Sexual tension zinged off the walls. I was enjoying this game of flirting, of delayed gratification.
“Made sure you were sitting beside me rather than opposite.”
“Mm-hmm.” I took another couple of steps backward. Joz prowled after me, keeping the same distance between us, drawing out the anticipation. “And if I had been, what would have happened?”
He raked a hand through his hair, his fingers momentarily tangling in the long strands. “I’d have hiked up that dress, shoved my fingers inside you, and made you come before the starters arrived.”
“You’re awfully confident. What if I’m a woman who struggles to climax?”
I wasn’t. In fact, I was halfway there just thinking about the way his pierced peen would feel inside me, but this game was far too entertaining to quit yet.
“I’d have kept going right through the main course, dessert, in the car on the way home, riding the lift up here, all fucking night if I had to until you came apart for me.”
I widened my stance and swiped my fingers through my folds, holding them up for him to see how wet I was. “I don’t think you’re going to have to wait that long.”
“Jesus Christ, Aspen.” He hissed, squeezing his dick. “I’m gonna worship you like the fucking queen you are.”
Crooking my finger, I took another two steps backward. “Then, worship me.”
I didn’t get as far as a third. Joz pounced, grabbed me by the waist, and hauled me against him.
Our mouths crashed together like we were both starving.
His mouth was filthy, unrelenting, zero finesse, all raw hunger.
Our tongues dueled, but rather than a battle, it was a coming together of two people who just… fit.
The masculine scent of him invaded every part of me: leather, soap, and something that smelled like damp grass after a torrential downpour. A kind of craziness took over. I lost control. Hooking one leg over his hip, I grabbed his hand and shoved it between my legs.
“Need.”
No other words were necessary. Joz slid two fingers inside me, going slow, exploring, curving them to hit that deep spot I struggled to reach myself.
He played me as effortlessly as I’d seen him play guitar countless times, and just like that instrument, I was putty in his hands.
Cupping my right breast, he released my mouth and bent his head, drawing his teeth gently over my nipple.
I moaned, feeling that delicious pull deep inside my stomach.
His cock poked me in the abdomen, eager to get in on the act. I wrapped my hand around the base and squeezed, earning a moan from him.
“You like that?” I whispered.
He grunted but was too busy sucking my nipple to answer.
Fine by me. If he stopped, I might die. He was everywhere at once, his thumb rubbing circles against my clit, his fingers stroking me from the inside, his tongue and teeth and lips worshiping first one nipple, then the other.
My orgasm rushed toward me, swelling, teetering. Right there. Right… there.
I came with his name torn from my throat, thighs clamping around him, my fingers burrowing into his hair to hold him at my breast until he’d wrung every drop of pleasure from me. My legs were still trembling when he stopped fingering me and straightened, one side of his mouth rising in a smirk.
“You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”
He laughed, a low rumble that vibrated a place deep inside me. “Baby, that was only the aperitif. I’ve barely started yet.” With a gentle shove, he pushed me onto the couch, but instead of following, he stood there, staring. Or I should say devouring, just as he promised.
Bracing both arms behind my head, I slowly ran my gaze over him, lingering on that enormous dick with the five silver barbells running through it. I’d had sex once with a guy who had a King’s Crown but never a Jacob’s Ladder.
“Did it hurt?”
He followed my gaze to his groin, then looked back up at me, grinning. “Stung a bit.”
“Why did you do it?”
For a few seconds he said nothing. Well done, Aspen. Talk about killing the vibe.
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to tell me. Come here.” I held out my arms, but he remained standing.
“Control,” he eventually said. “When my world got turned upside down, and my mind was a fucking mess, that pain, that choice? It was mine. Took two months to do all five, and four months before it fully healed.”
It was obvious which time in his life he was referring to. His reasoning made sense. When the world was spinning out of control, people often turned to what might be considered extreme activities to regain a semblance of stability which had been ripped from them.
“Ever thought of getting your clit done?”
Eyes widening, I clamped my legs together at the mere thought. “Not a chance.”
He chuckled. “I’ll work on persuading you.”
Good luck with that. “As fascinating as it is to talk about your dick piercing, and notwithstanding it was me who brought it up, I’d rather feel it inside me.”
“I fucking love how direct you are.”
“Some guys are threatened by it.”
Yet one more reason I hadn’t had sex in a long while.
I couldn’t be anyone other than who I was, nor would I ever change to suit someone else.
But it had often crossed my mind to try to be a little less authoritative in the bedroom, to soften up and let the guy lead.
Some men were fragile creatures who didn’t like having their masculinity usurped.
“That’s because they’re uncomfortable in their own skin. It’s a reflection on their lack of masculinity, not on you.”
He took the words right out of my mouth.
“You know I’m a sure bet, right? You don’t have to say all the right things to fuck me.”
He gave me another one of those smiles that literally would melt off my panties if I were wearing any.
“Don’t move.”
He walked over to where he’d left his clothes when I basically tore them from his body. For a split second, I thought he was getting dressed, and an icy blast shot through me. When he plucked a silver packet from his jeans, my entire body melted into the couch.
“You need to work on your poker face.” He tore the packet open with his teeth.
“I’ll have you know, I’m a master poker player.” Lies. I couldn’t win at the simplest card game, let alone a game of strategy like poker.
“Of course you are.” He straddled me, handing over the condom. “Put it on.”
“And you say I’m the bossy one.” I took it from him anyway, pinched the tip, and rolled it down his entire length, surprised his piercings didn’t tear through the rubber.
“You’ve had your turn at being in charge. Now it’s my turn. Be quiet, or I’ll shove my dick in your mouth to shut you up.”
A flush of excitement tightened the muscles south of my belly button. I’d never been with a guy who talked as dirty as Joz. If I’d known what a turn on it was, I’d have looked for a man like him far earlier.
Except… I didn’t think there was a man as multi-faceted. Complicated and transparent, dominant and malleable, confident and cautious.
“You ready?” he asked, a hint of strain to his voice. “Or you wanna talk some more?” He followed up with a wink.
Asshole. I reached between us, guiding him to my entrance. “Just fuck me.”
God, did he. My eyes rolled back as he pushed inside in one smooth thrust. Pinning my hands above my head, he pounded into me like he wanted to break something.
My body, my rules, my vagina. Those metal studs scraped along my inner walls with every slam of his hips.
I blissed out, lost in a haze of desire, fingers scoring channels in the broadness of his back, tangling in his hair, gripping his hips to urge him to go harder, faster, deeper.
Our coming together was messy and hot and perfect. He cursed under his breath with sweat dripping from his forehead onto my breasts as he moved. I met every thrust with one of my own, hips lifting, chasing the high like I’d chased him to sign with my label—relentlessly and without apology.
Pulling out of me, he flipped me onto my stomach, grabbed both hips and hauled me to a kneeling position. Before I had a chance to take a breath, he filled me again. I cried out, pleasure sharp and dazzlingly bright like I’d stared right into the sun.
“You want it rough?” he ground out.
“Hell yeah.” I gasped as he shifted position. “Just like that. Don’t you dare go easy on me.”
He didn’t. He annihilated me. And when I came again, I screamed.
Seconds later, he followed with a hoarse groan, burying himself deep, then stilling.
For a long moment, the only sounds were our ragged breathing as we fought to slow our thundering heartbeats.
Then he eased out and flopped back onto the couch.
I righted myself and removed the condom from his softening dick.
Tying a knot in it, I dropped it into the wastepaper basket beside my couch.
“Well, that escalated.”
He chuckled. “You good?”
I turned my head to look at him. “Better than good.”
Effortlessly, he lifted me astride him. I scraped my fingertips down his chest, my thighs still shaking. He cupped my face and kissed me gently, reverently, like he meant it. Like this wasn’t just some one-time thing that quenched a craving, but the start of something deep and meaningful.
I dragged his bottom lip between my teeth. “Next time, I’m tying you to the bed.”
His groan was pure lust. “Spitfire…”
Climbing off him, I cupped my breasts and opened my legs. “What, you thought that was the whole show?”
He launched off the couch like it was an ejector seat. I made a run for it, but he caught me right as I reached the bedroom door. I squealed as he tossed me over his shoulder and slapped my ass.
“Oh, I know that wasn’t the whole show, Spitfire. That was only the warm-up.” He tossed me onto the bed and crawled after me. “You’re in for a long, hard, night.”