Chapter 15
15
ZARA
“What are we doing?” I whisper.
His dark eyes hold mine as he leans closer. “Kissing,” he whispers as his lips brush over mine.
I close my eyes and gently press my lips to his. He pulls back slightly, his mouth sweeping over mine, his tongue tracing the outline of my mouth slowly, softly. Our breaths mingle, and I don’t think dessert has ever tasted so good. “I can taste the coffee,” I murmur.
He trails kisses over my cheek, down my neck, and to my shoulder, so I tilt my head, giving him access to my skin. My mind battles… I should tell him to stop.
His lips move to my ear. “I need to taste you, Zara.”
My stomach flips, and all my thoughts stop. Arousal rushes through my body, and I’m beyond stopping it. I push up, wrapping my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist, kissing him hard.
With two hands under my ass, Jobe carries me to his bedroom, where he kicks the door open and places me on his bed. His lips stay on mine as he huddles over me, undoing my shirt buttons. I start from the bottom button and meet him halfway, pulling my shirt over my shoulders, my breasts spilling over my bra. Jobe runs his hands over my skin and bra, trailing his hands behind my back and unclipping my bra. He slowly slides it off, staring at my bare chest, taking all of me in as he does. I sit forward and fiddle with the buttons of his jeans, but Jobe swats my hands away.
“Be patient.”
“Not one of my stronger traits,” I reply.
He makes light work of my pants and pulls them off. I’m lying on my back in only my panties, staring at the bulge in his jeans pushing against the band.
He moves away from me, his expression now tight. “Is this what you want, Zara?”
I nod, my eyes heavy with desire for him.
“I’m giving you a chance to gather your thoughts and consider what is happening.”
What is happening besides we are about to fuck?
Oh, he’s giving me time to say no. I did tell him multiple times this would be a huge mistake, but the way my body is screaming to be touched means I want him inside me now. Drunk on arousal, I don’t care if this is for one night or one week. I need him tonight. I meet his gaze and hold it. “I want this.”
He nods slowly and waits a few more seconds before sliding his jeans and silk boxers down his glorious thighs. Long, lean, muscular thighs. The best legs I’ve ever seen. His family’s beautiful olive complexion is evident in his legs covered by trousers every day.
When was the last time he sat on a beach and enjoyed the calm in the warmth?
He strokes his beautiful cock. “What is it? ”
I shake my head. Why am I thinking about that now? I hold out my arms for him, but he pulls my ankles, so I slide closer to the edge, then he pries my knees open, kneeling beside the bed. He lays one kiss over my clit, and even through the thin material, I feel it. It sends a shudder through my core, the anticipation almost unbearable.
His eyes rake over me, a yearning between us. He slips one finger under the band of my panties and slides it over my wet slit. His touch is torturous, slow, and delicate. When he pushes one finger inside, I arch, seeking more.
“Yes,” I moan out, tilting my hips. He withdraws, and before I can whimper in protest, he adds another, my thighs shaking. When he pulls back again, he slides another finger in, then pumps slowly, the stretch exactly what I need, and he hits the spot immediately. “Faster,” I demand on a moan.
“Stop telling me what to do,” he growls out before leaning up and bracing himself over me, kissing my cheek. Then his mouth is on mine. “I’ve got this, angel.”
Angel.
His tongue moves between my lips and twirls with mine. His fingers are working me, and the orgasm is building faster than I want, and I can barely concentrate. He breaks the kiss, his mouth moving to my breast. He toys with one nipple, sucking and nipping before shifting to the other. My back arches, my body surging at the intimacy of his touch. I take his head and hold it between my hands as though I have some control over him. The truth is, I have none. His thumb presses on my clit while his fingers pump and circle at an incredible speed. Lost to the bliss, I cry out as I come, lifting my hips off the bed before I fall limp onto the sheets.
Jobe slips off the bed and slides my drenched panties down my thighs, tossing them toward the wall. He lifts my legs over his shoulders then his hot mouth is on my pussy, licking and groaning as he tastes my orgasm. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispers. “So sexy.” He licks and sucks my clit and toys with me as though I’m his shiny new toy, and he can’t get enough of me. I squirm and bolt my hips as smaller orgasms ripple over me, one after the other.
Sitting up, I run my fingers through his hair and tug. “I need you now,” I whisper.
To my relief, he doesn’t hesitate. He reaches and opens his drawer, pulling out a condom.
Anxiously, I lay back and wait as I watch him roll it over his thick erection. Since I’m on my back, I consider if this is too vanilla for him. I don’t recall much of our first time. All I have to go by is gossip and the fact he mentioned multiple partners at once. My insecurities start to bubble, but before they have time to rise, he kneels between my thighs.
“Open your legs wider, Zara.” He stares at my pussy while he strokes himself. I force my legs wide until my inner thighs tighten. He smiles. “Fucking beautiful,” he growls out, then he guides himself to my entrance and leans over me, his biceps tensing as he braces his weight, his face strained in what looks like a grimace.
“Are you okay?” I murmur as he slides out slowly and pushes in again, allowing my pussy to adjust to the size of him.
“Are you okay?” he counters, and I nod.
He pushes deeper, this time a little faster.
“You looked like you were in pain?”
He drops his head, his muscles clenching like he’s holding back. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”
Oh. I didn’t expect him to say that. “It happened before…” I remind him.
“It wasn’t memorable for you.” He moves faster, instinct taking over .
I run my hands over the planes of his back, forging every detail to my memory. “It’s patchy,” I admit between breaths.
“Trust me, tonight will not be. You’ll remember everything I do to you, and you’ll feel it tomorrow.”
Oh my.
“I live here,” I pant out. “It doesn’t have to end tonight, so I don’t want to be sore for tomorrow.”
His face changes.
Crap. Did I overstep a mark? “Just saying because it’s been a while. I need to get back into the game.”
“The game of sex?”
I nod. “You were my last.”
Something comes over him. His eyes darken, and he rocks into me harder and faster. He lowers himself onto his elbows and pumps into me until I’m incapable of talking. He rides me deep and hard, and I wrap my arms around him to hang on for dear life. He lifts a leg over his shoulder, and his thrusts are punishing. I close my eyes and give myself to him, trusting him with my body. Something changes in the air between us. He’s no longer in control, and neither am I. We are lost to the lust taking us to the edge. My head is in the stars. Then, I’m blinded by the brightness. “Jobe,” I call out as a mammoth orgasm rips through me.
He thrusts hard, sinking deep as he shudders, emptying into me. His thrusts slow, his breath coming in loud pants. Then his eyes hold mine, a heart rendering tenderness in his gaze. I give him a satiated smile, completely satisfied while trying to ignore the rush of overwhelming happiness of being with Jobe.
Leaning his forehead against mine, his breath brushes over my face. A hint of coffee and ice cream. My heart flutters, remembering everything. “Thank you,” I whisper, kissing his lips .
He pulls back, staring at me, puzzled.
“For everything,” I clarify. “Especially the orgasms.”
Jobe is behind me in the bed, spooning me when I wake up, and I fail to hide my grin. It’s the complete opposite of how I woke up the first time we were together.
That memory dims my good mood, and I whisper into the sheets, “You vanished on me last time.”
“I did.” His deep voice sounds from behind me. “I shouldn’t have.”
My face heats. “I assumed I must have been awful for you.”
“What? No.” His arm tightens around my waist. “I was… out of my depth. It was good, Zara. Better than anything I’d… and I knew how little you thought of me. I didn’t want to see your regret, so I left.”
“I don’t regret it,” I say and cup his hand, sliding his fingers toward my clit. I press his hand onto my sex and close my eyes.
“I have breakfast covered,” he murmurs, and I smile into the pillow.
Suddenly, I’m flipped, my front on the mattress. He’s over me, spreading my thighs apart with his knees. He grabs a pillow and lifts my stomach, pushing it under my hips.
What is happening?
My face is squashed to the side, and he’s on his knees behind me, stroking my sex. “Your pussy is fucking perfect,” he growls out.
Oh. I’m wet already, and he spreads the moisture over my sex and clit. He falls over me, his stomach to my back, and I love the warmth radiating from him. Hot air brushes over my ear. “I’m going to make you come, Zara. Again and again.”
I smile as though I’m in sexual heaven. “I’m here for it.” I am back in the game.
His cock presses at my entrance. Then he shifts, using his hand to guide him all the way in.
I lift my head. “Oh…” I moan. It feels so good at this angle.
“I’m going to fuck you hard, Zara. Are you okay with that?”
I smile goofily. “More than okay.”
He starts off slowly, then builds quickly, riding me hard and fast. Desire spreads quickly through my body. I pant with every thrust. Jobe pushes up and circles his hips as he pounds my ass, driving into me at piston pace. Whether it’s the angle or the position with my hips tilted up for him, I feel all of him. Seconds later, an orgasm rips through me. I let out a moan of pleasure and wait for him to empty inside me.
It doesn’t come.
He forces a hand under my stomach and lifts me. “On your knees, Zara,” he barks. I do what he asks. One hand cups my neck, and he pushes my face toward the pillows. His knees spread my thighs wider. The other hand grabs my hip to hold my position. Then he gives me everything he has.
I can barely breathe as his cocks drives deeper and deeper into my body’s threshold, the pain and pleasure crashing into one. I groan as I build again, my body confused as the sexual pain creates a new brand of bliss of being completely fucked. I come again, loud with a cry of relief and joy, momentarily blinding. Impossibly, he pumps harder, his thrusts owning my body once more until he moans loudly and slumps over my back. He remains still for a few seconds before his loud pants begin to slow.
Jobe kisses my back as he pulls out and falls onto the bed beside me. Every time his gaze meets mine, my heart turns over in response.
I smile, wrapped in a silken cocoon of euphoria. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He sounds sex drunk, and there is no better sound.
He’s on his side, and we take our time, enjoying the sexual haze before it disappears. Then he glances down, and his expression flails.
“What?” I whisper, seeing the shock and horror on his face. My gaze lowers, expecting blood or something. It takes a moment to realize he didn’t wear a condom. “I’m on the pill,” I reassure him. “And you’re…”
“Fine.”
But he’s not. Something has snapped his control. He jumps up from the bed and heads to the bathroom. Moments later, I hear the shower spray. Do I join him and reassure him it’s okay or give him time to process?
I don’t want to stay in his bed if he needs space. Collecting my clothes scattered around the room, I head to my bathroom to shower alone. It’s probably best because the throb between my legs indicates I couldn’t go another round.
After showering and tending to my sore bits, I emerge from my room, hair washed and completely refreshed, wearing my bathrobe. Until I know what the day holds, I haven’t planned what to wear. I inhale a familiar smell.
He’s cooking breakfast.
A positive sign.
I start to say good morning then realize the gesture has passed since our good morning greeting was in his bed. Sliding onto the stool, I watch him standing barefoot in his loose chambray shirt and jeans. His tussled dark hair is still damp from the shower.
I like casual Jobe.
“Are you hungry?” he asks without turning.
For you? Yes. “Starving.” He turns and eyes me. Yeah, I wasn’t only talking about food, and it came out in my tone. “Are you okay?” I ask gently. “After I showered, I wasn’t sure what to expect.”
He lowers his head and closes his eyes. “I’ve never had unprotected sex, and it caught me off guard. If I got you pregnant?—”
“Jobe, I use contraception,” I remind him. “It’s fine. Now, what are you cooking?”
He gives me half a smile. “Zucchini fritters.”
“Smells good.” Eggs, grated zucchini, carrots, and cheese are on a plate on the counter.
“So do you,” he murmurs.
I stand and walk over to the other side, closer to him, spring up, and sit on the marble counter. I run my fingers through my hair. “It’s my favorite coconut shampoo.” He steps closer and leans in to smell my hair.
“It’s good, but that’s not what I was inferring.”
Oh.
I open my legs so he can stand between my thighs and tilt my neck. “My new perfume, perhaps?”
“No.”
A hand runs along the inside of my thigh, exploring and moving higher. He cups my sex and leans close to my ear. “I can smell you from here.”
“Oh, I have a smell?”
He nudges my ear and kisses my neck. “Your perfume is good, but Zara is my favorite scent.”
The stroking of his fingers over my panties sends a pleasant jolt through me. His nearness overwhelms my demeanor, and I become putty in his hands. As soon as one finger slips under the elastic, I lean back onto my elbows and open my legs for him.
He holds my gaze as he slides my panties down my thighs and lowers his face to my clit. I cover an arm over my eyes as my hips buck with his lips every caress.
Breakfast is served.