Chapter Fifteen #2
Actually… as much as it killed me to admit it, I sort of liked that he pushed my buttons.
I liked that he continuously taunted me, even now, during foreplay.
I wouldn’t be so unbearably turned on if I didn’t.
Whatever this was between us, it was twisted, and God help me, I kind of loved it.
In the back of my mind, I was already thinking up ways to pay him back for this.
Ways that involved silk ties and delayed satisfaction and— Oh my God, what did he just do with his tongue?
He shifted the angle of his mouth, tonguing me like that again, his nose nuzzling against my clit in a way that had stars bursting behind my closed eyelids.
“So impatient,” he murmured into me.
“Sadist,” I hiss-whispered.
He chuckled again and dropped a kiss on the one part of my anatomy that I’d been desperate for him to touch. I sucked in a sharp breath, a fine tremble running through my limbs. This was it. He was finally going to give me what I needed.
He dropped another kiss on my clit and glanced up at me beneath his lashes, and this time I went utterly still beneath him.
Because damn it, he was beautiful. It was a savage sort of beauty, like looking at a tiger stalking past the bars of its cage and knowing if it ever got out, you were totally fucked.
And yet there was something else in his eyes.
Something that made me feel safe and appreciated.
Seen.
He’d been taunting me this whole time, but the longer I held his gaze, the less of a teasing edge I saw in his expression and the more a deep-seated desire began to take over. I felt like he was finally letting me see him back.
The last bit of mischief faded from his eyes, replaced by what looked like raw, voracious need.
He lowered his mouth back to my aching bud, slicked one long, thick finger into my pussy, and sucked at my clit.
My orgasm hit so hard and so fast that my entire body clenched up.
Thank God, otherwise I might have been screaming.
He lapped at me, urging me on, drawing out every shudder of pleasure until the last waves rolled over me and I went boneless beneath him.
He gave me one more lingering kiss and then wiped his face off on the sheets before rising and moving toward the dresser.
I turned my head to watch him, taking in the way his muscles rolled and flexed with every movement. No wonder the Romans had been obsessed with statues of muscular men. There was something so intrinsically carnal about a body honed by years of hard work.
“You should always be naked,” I said, feeling sex-drunk. I might regret the words later, but right now I couldn’t bring myself to care. At least I’d had enough sense left to keep my voice down.
He ripped a condom open and rolled it over his girth, shooting me a look when he was done. “Remember that the next time I say something to piss you off.”
“I want you naked even when you piss me off,” I told him. Because it was true.
His cock visibly stiffened at that, and he prowled back toward me.
I expected him to crawl onto the bed, but he dropped to his knees at the foot of it, hooked his arms beneath my hips, and carefully pulled me half off the mattress.
I landed in his lap, and even as he steadied me, I was reaching for his dick.
I wanted more. Harder. Deeper. Clitoral orgasms were great, but they were nothing compared to cervical ones, which lasted longer and made every nerve in my body simultaneously ignite with pleasure.
He lifted my hips, shoulder muscles straining, and I guided him to my entrance.
In one smooth, excruciatingly delicious stroke, I slid down his length until he bottomed out.
Like this, we were almost eye to eye, and I watched his lips part on a small, barely audible moan.
I had to bite my cheek to hold back an answering sound.
He was bigger than any other man I’d been with, and the feel of him filling me up, stretching me out, was almost too much.
His eyes, pupils blown wide with lust, searched my face, a small crease forming between his brows as he shifted his hips back and then surged into me again.
My breasts bounced with the movement, and he dropped his gaze to them as if transfixed, thrusting deep again.
A surge of fierce pride streaked through me.
I loved that I had this effect on him. A moment ago, I thought he’d been in complete control, but now, this close, there was no way he could hide the fact that he was quickly coming undone.
I leaned back and braced myself on the mattress behind me, trusting that he was strong enough to hold my weight up. His hands gripped my ass, steadying me.
“Again,” I said.
He surprised me by leaning forward, into me, shifting our angle, the skin of his lower abdomen slicking over my clit as he slammed home.
And then his lips were at my neck again, just below my ear.
The heat of his breath warmed my skin as he started a steady rhythm.
His strokes were deep and even, his pace smooth.
Just like last time, Jakob treated this like a marathon instead of a sprint.
He rose up a little, and I hooked my legs around his waist. Like this, I had to arch my back to keep the contact of his skin slicking over my clit, and it pressed my breasts up as if I was offering them to him.
He made a low sound and dropped his lips to my nipple, and I lifted my hand and palmed my other one.
I had contact everywhere I needed it, was being stimulated on so many parts of my body that the pleasure was beginning to blur together in a way that made me feel weightless and dizzy.
“Jakob,” I said, helpless to stop the keening moan building in the back of my throat.