Chapter 14 Jackson #2
“I need your mouth.” She pushes my head lower. “Here.” She lifts her hips, forcing my face between her legs. I’ve never seen this side of her, so assertive and commanding, and I fucking love it. I want to be whatever she needs right now. I want her to use me. To take what she wants.
Leaning back, I reach for her waistband and peel off her sweatpants and panties.
The scent of her arousal fills the air and my mouth salivates for a taste.
God, I love eating pussy. Settling back between her legs, I pepper kisses from her inner thigh to her center.
I wrap my arms around her thighs and hold them open.
My fingers help spread her wide as I dive in, placing open-mouth kisses along her most sensitive skin.
My tongue slides along her opening, plunging inside her folds.
I groan. She moans.
Her hips move, her center grinding against my mouth as I taste, suck, and kiss.
I tease her clit, flicking it with my tongue and sweeping around it as her pleasure builds.
My erection grows painful, wishing for a chance to join the party.
But I ignore my own needs and focus solely on hers.
I want to get her there, so I’ll draw this out as long as it takes.
Teasing. Tempting. Building. It’s no hardship.
She tastes even better than I remember. I could do this all fucking night.
I resituate my body so I can work two fingers inside her. My mouth meets her clit, and this time I’m not as gentle. She likes it, though. Her body reacts, grinding harder against my face. She gets more vocal too, encouraging me to keep going with gasps and moans.
I’m locked in. Her thighs tremble as I flick her bundle of nerves with my tongue.
I use my fingers inside her, stretching her and stroking them in a come-hither motion until she’s flying over the edge.
Pleasure ripples through her body, the reward I was hoping to achieve.
As she comes back down, I remove my fingers and kiss my way back up her body.
Her chest heaves as she practically melts into the sofa.
“Good?” I’m smiling like I won the fucking lotto.
She grins, a look I don’t often see.
“Good.”
I press a kiss to her sternum. My hands can’t help but run along her body. I have a crushing need to touch her, to stay connected for as long as she’ll let me.
“What about you . . .” She eyes the bulge in my pants.
“I’m just giving you a breather.” I press another kiss at her throat.
“I can handle it.”
She gasps as I kiss up her neck. Reaching for my pants, she works the button and zipper down my jeans.
I groan as her hands slide into the front of my pants.
“Take these off.” She tugs on the waistband. “And switch with me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I stop kissing her and sit back to ditch my jeans.
“Do you have a condom?”
“Yeah.” I walk over and pull one from behind one of the CD stacks. “You still good with this music?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Yeah.” Her gaze practically eats me up.
My chest puffs and I stand a little taller. I can’t help but put on a show, flexing as I rip the foil wrapper off and roll the latex over my erection. I love that she so blatantly enjoys the view. It’s only fair given how much she turns me on. I saunter back toward the sofa.
She stands as I reach her. Her arms wrap around my waist, and I wonder what she’s doing—until she turns us and shoves me back. There’s a wicked smile on her lips as she follows, straddling my waist.
She wants to ride me? Fuck, I may have died and gone to heaven.
Rosalie grips my cock in her hand and gives my length a few strokes before lining me up at her center. We shuffle, making the fit more aligned, and then she spreads her knees wider and sinks down, taking me inch by inch in one long exhale.
I squeeze my eyes shut and groan.
She feels incredible.
So good.
Too good.
I’m insanely thankful for the latex barrier, because if we were going bareback, I fear I’d come immediately.
Don’t come. Don’t come. Don’t come.
The mantra repeats in my head as Rosalie slides on and off my cock. So good. Too damn good. Her mouth finds mine and her hands find purchase on my shoulders as she rides me in earnest.
I won’t last long. Not long enough to get her to come again. But I enjoy every damn second, watching her lean back and rock her hips, her tits bouncing each time she slides down my length.
“Fuck me,” I encourage her. Reaching for her hips, I thrust up the next time she grinds down. The loud moan of pleasure that escapes her parted mouth is all the encouragement I need to do it again. Again and again. Until I can no longer stave off my orgasm.
“Fuck, yes. Baby, yes. I’m coming. You’re so fucking good.
” The incoherent chant of praise leaves my mouth along with a guttural groan, then I’m pumping everything I have into her, filling the condom, and holding on to her like I can’t stand to let go.
My pulse races and I slump against the back of the sofa.
“That was . . .”
“Yeah.” There’s a smile in her voice as she climbs off of me. I try not to be disappointed as she reaches for her clothes and begins to dress.
I don’t know how she feels about what we did, but I know enough that I can’t ask her directly. The critical part of her brain will be back in full force soon enough. It’s up to me to tempt her into more of this before she convinces herself she doesn’t deserve more.
I pat the empty space next to me. “Sit with me until I catch my breath.”
“Okay.” There’s reluctance as she joins me.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask. I might not answer.”
“Fair.” I chuckle. “Have you ever role played?”
“No.” She presses her lips together as her gaze shifts away. “Why?” The barest of smiles plays on her lips, leading me to believe she likes the idea.
“Would you want to?” I level her with the smile that has gotten me my way more times than not.
“That depends.” She meets my smirk with one of her own. “What do you have in mind?”
Rosalie is different than most of the women I’ve spent time with. My competition isn’t other men. It’s her book boyfriends, and my competitive nature wants to show them up. “Well, I was thinkin’ . . . what if we recreated a sexy scene from one of your books?”
Her grin is unguarded. “You’d want to do that?”
“Hell, yeah.” I’d happily do anything that lands us naked together. Hell, I’m starting to think this woman could convince me to do anything in or out of clothes, as long as she keeps looking at me like this. “And for the record, I predict we’ll be better than the book.”
“Better than the book?” Her brows rise. “That’s a lofty guarantee.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure of myself. That, and I can’t let some fictional character show me up.”
“Oh.” She laughs, her gaze drifting to where I’m cupping my junk. “So, you’ve got something to prove.”
I lean over and steal a kiss. “Maybe I do.”