Chapter Fifteen #3
His mouth crashed against mine, lips working as he thrust his tongue inside.
I gripped his shoulders and shifted my hips with his, losing myself to the lust coursing through me.
He hit a spot deep within me that felt so good I wanted to scream for him, but I couldn’t.
Instead, he drank down the noises I made and continued to drive into me, slow and steady.
I clenched my eyes shut as another orgasm built.
If my first one had been hard and fast, this one rolled through my body with the slow, devastating force of a tidal wave.
It felt like I came for minutes on end, my inner muscles squeezing so tight that Jakob could barely move.
He pulled out when it passed and turned me around so that I faced the bed.
The mattress sat on a platform, low enough that bent at the hips like this, I could fold forward and rest my sweat-slicked upper body on the sheets.
I was still shuddering with aftershocks from the strength of my orgasm when Jakob gripped my hips and, in one smooth thrust, buried himself in me from behind.
I thought he would pick up the rhythm now.
His dick felt huge inside me; he had to be close.
But he just kept up that same, torturous tempo, and when one hand snaked around so he could stroke his fingers over my clit, I knew he wasn’t finished with me yet.
I gripped the sheets in my fists, scrambling for purchase. “I can’t,” I whimpered. If I came again, I would have an aneurysm. I just knew it.
“Yes, you can,” Jakob said, voice low and demanding. “Give me another one, Krista.”
His fingers picked up speed on my clit, and soon I was shoving my hips back to meet his thrusts, my body moving on an instinctual level as I chased after another mind-melting rush of release.
Oh no, I thought as a deep, aching pressure built inside me.
I couldn’t survive another one, could I?
But it was like my second orgasm had never really faded, and soon I had to bury my face in the sheets to smother the high-pitched sounds of need I was making.
I tumbled over the edge a second later, spine bowed, slamming my hips backward. Thank God for the AC unit and the nearby washing machine, otherwise the sounds of our skin slapping together might be audible to anyone walking by the room.
Jakob’s fingers left my clit and landed on my good hip. His other hand gripped my shoulder. He yanked me toward him and thrust hard, dick stiffening inside as my orgasm triggered his. The feel of him pulsing deep against my cervix prolonged my pleasure, and by the time it faded, I collapsed, spent.
Jakob slid out of me and pulled me off the mattress, gathering me against him. Our skin was slicked with sweat. I felt his heartbeat pounding against my back, proof that he’d come as hard as I did.
“Holy hell,” I panted. Three orgasms. My thighs shook. If not for Jakob’s arms banded around my waist, I would have sunk to the floor in a heap of useless flesh.
He dropped his lips to my neck and made a low, appreciative sound. “I knew you had another one in you.”
“Don’t sound so smug about it. You almost killed me.”
“Nah,” he said. “You’ll get used to the feeling.”
Used to three back-to-back orgasms? “Are you sure that’s safe?” I said, my voice little more than a squeak.
He chuckled, the vibration of his laughter moving through me in a way that sent another small aftershock of release rolling through my core. It was like he’d set something seismic off inside me.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to shower.”
He helped me stand, and I hissed as my hip twinged. Goddamn, that stung. I’d strained a nerve sometime between orgasms two and three. I felt it happen, a weird little twang of pain that I knew from experience would get worse later, but in the heat of the moment, I’d barely noticed.
Jakob saw me wince, and before I could protest, he scooped me up and strode into his en suite bathroom.
A massive claw-foot tub stood beneath a low bank of windows that looked out on the river.
He set me down and turned on the faucet.
I leaned against the double-sink vanity as he dropped a big scoop of Epsom salt into the bath.
The familiar, muscle-soothing scent of eucalyptus hit my nose a minute later.
His brow furrowed as he worked, jaw clenched like he was mad. With him, it was hard to read his emotions, what with the perpetual scowl he wore, but from the stiff line of his shoulders, I started to think he was actually angry.
A few minutes later, we sank down into the bath together, with him at my back, bracing me up. His hand fell to my hip, and he started massaging the sore joint.
“Why are you pissy?” I asked.
“Why didn’t you say something?” he countered.
I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes as his fingers went to work on my aching muscles. “About my leg?”
He rumbled his assent.
“It didn’t hurt until the endorphins faded,” I said.
He made a low grunt that sounded like disbelief, and now it was my turn to be irritated.
“I’m not some delicate, wilting flower, Jakob,” I said. “I have a voice. If something hurts too much for us to continue, I’ll tell you.”
His fingers stilled on my skin, and his chest heaved as he took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I melted a little. His voice was low, insistent, his tone filled with some emotion that had my mind spinning. It sounded like the words had deeper meaning, like he didn’t want me hurt ever, physically or emotionally.
Before I could let myself read too much into it, I craned my head back and pulled his face down. “Then don’t,” I said, sealing my lips over his.