14. Jana
Fourteen
Jana
S how me.
Sparks crackle across my nerve endings, and I arch up against Stig’s bare chest with a gasp, his order ringing in my ears. A few minutes ago, this man was half-frozen. Stiff and cold as a corpse. The sight and feel of him made my knees weak with worry.
Now Stig is fever-hot, a sheen of sweat glinting on his taut muscles, and he’s lithe and powerful as he stretches out above me. When I kissed his neck just now, I tasted salt.
There’s a fierce light in the adventurer’s eyes as he rubs his cock against me through our clothes. He’s challenging me. Urging me to make this leap of faith.
To admit I want this as badly as he does.
No shit, Sherlock.
My hands tremble as they find Stig’s chest, stroking and mapping and relearning the landscape of his body. His heartbeat thuds against my palm, steady and strong, and I suck in a shaky breath as I hold Stig’s gaze.
Can’t believe I get to do this—that I get to touch this man like he’s mine. That he’ll grunt for me when I brush his nipples, hips rocking harder into my body. That he’ll hiss as I lean up and lick his throat.
Why did I run from this? What was I scared of, again?
Oh, yeah: that Stig would never want me back.
“So fucking perfect,” he mutters now, grinding our bodies together urgently. Even through the layers of our clothes, the friction has me whimpering, my thighs flexing around his waist. Fighting to press us closer. “You’re it for me, Jana. Never doubt that again. Jesus Christ.”
And I see that now, I feel that now, so clearly that I’m nearly bowled over with the force of his love. Good thing I’m already lying down, else I’d drop like a happy little pebble. I’m woozy with how miraculous this feels.
“Nearly missed this,” Stig says, still muttering under his breath, his forehead creased into an agitated frown. “Nearly spent my whole worthless life without doing this , Jana. What the hell.”
He leans back and yanks down my pajama pants in one motion, then flings them at the wall. Papers flutter on Flint’s cork board, and a pencil rolls off the desk and plunks to the floor.
We’re making a mess in my boss’s office, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Because Stig shuffles back and presses my thighs wide. And I must still be dazed, must have only a few tired brain cells left, because I don’t realize what he has planned until he leans down, hot breaths misting against my slit.
“Oh!”
My fingers weave into Stig’s mussed blond hair, yanking him closer without permission from my brain. I smush the adventurer’s bearded face against my pussy, where his groan of approval sets all my nerve endings alight.
And he licks me. Sucks, nibbles and groans. Presses me open with the ‘V’ of his fingers and freaking devours me, eyes slitted closed in the lamplight, looking for all the world like he could happily spend hours down there. And all the while I’m bucking and moaning, tugging on his hair and hissing when he nips me just right, the room spinning round and round.
Yes.
I’m sweating. Dizzy with pleasure. Tensed up and dangerously relaxed at the same time, and holy crap, is it always like this? How did I survive so long without feeling Stig Hansen’s tongue on my clit?
Pressure builds inside me. My channel clamps down on nothing, muscles flexing, and sweat slides down my spine when I arch off the floor.
Stig sits up and spanks my clit. He grins as I wail, body twitching as volts of pleasure crackle through my veins.
Never been this soaked and swollen before. This desperate. But he’s stopped, the jerk has stopped, and now my teeth ache with how badly I need more. There’s unfinished business, damn it.
“That’ll do it,” Stig says cheerfully, working his belt open. “Are you ready to beg for my cock?”
Even in my haze, I splutter. “Excuse you?”
But Stig just grins wider, kneeing my legs apart and setting his cock at my entrance once again. His jeans are halfway down his thighs, the belt hanging loose and buckle clinking as it swings against his strong quad—and something about Stig staying part-dressed while I’m rumpled and ruined makes my tummy swoop.
“Beg,” the adventurer says again. Those ice-blue eyes gleam. “Prove you want me, Jana Kumara.”
Woof.
Biting my lip, I wiggle my hips. Try to coax him inside me without giving in to his command, but Stig flattens a hand over my stomach and pins me in place.
“No. Beg.”
A rush of slickness makes me squirm. God, I love him all bossy.
And he’s lit up from inside, exhilarated. Stig Hansen may not know it, but this is the exact look he gets in all his adventure footage, when he’s cliff jumping or rock climbing or back-country skiing. This is how he looks with a full shot of adrenaline running through his veins.
“Please,” I whisper, my lips barely moving. Hardly any sound gets out, but I kick my heels against the backs of Stig’s thighs anyway, urging him on. Job done, right?
I’ve said please, and now I want my reward: the delicious stretch of that big length pressing inside me. Want to be full. I felt it earlier, and now I’m hooked.
“I didn’t catch that.” Stig cups his ear, refusing to press forward even a single inch, even as my hips tilt and I rub myself against the blunt head of his shaft. “Say it again, Jana. Louder this time.”
I scoff, cheeks burning hot. “You’re enjoying this.”
Stig winks. “Very much.”
Ugh. And part of me rankles at this power play, part of me wants to drag it on for hours and hours, to wear him down and make him beg, but the rest of me really wants Stig Hansen inside me.
Another time, maybe. Revenge is a dish best served cold, yada yada, and this way I might get to come before I weep with frustration.
Besides, doesn’t Stig deserve this? Shouldn’t he hear exactly how much I want him, especially after everything I put him through tonight? Don’t I want him to know that his feelings are mutual?
“Please,” I say, loud and clear in still night air. Stig straightens incrementally, watching me with those eagle eyes. Secretly as desperate as I am for this. “Please, Stig. Fuck me. Make me yours.”
A shudder travels through his whole body, and Stig exhales hard before gripping both my hips tight enough to bruise. Clinging on like he never wants to let go. Like I’m all he wants in the whole world.
“You asked for it, Kumara.”
With one powerful thrust, he pins me to the clothing pile.