The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,54
with his finger, he forces me to look at only him.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Blair. Is this what you want? Do you want to give me that sweet cherry between your legs?”
Swallowing thickly, I try to come up with a response, but there aren’t words to convey how much I want this, so instead, I shut down my thoughts and rely on my actions. Reaching for the band of his boxers, I tug them down.
That’s all the incentive he needs before he’s on me, his hands in my hair, his lips on mine, sealing both our fates. Easing me back, he presses me into the mattress. I can feel every inch of his muscled body against mine, and I need to feel him skin to skin. Possessed with need, I push against his chest, wanting to put just enough space between us so that I can get rid of the shirt I’m wearing.
Pulling away, he breaks the kiss, and I let out a soft whimper of protest.
“Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that...” he starts, but I shake my head, wanting to banish any worries from his mind.
“Stop. You did nothing wrong. I want to feel you, skin to skin,” I say while reaching for the hem of the shirt. I start to lift it up when Cage swats my hands away. A boyish wink is given, and then, he’s performing the job of removing my shirt. Up and over my head it goes, he throws it behind us, and it lands somewhere on the floor.
Drinking me in like I’m a fine wine, Cage’s eyes fill with a hunger I’m not sure I can sedate. My core tightens at the look he’s giving me, and my nipples harden.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. I don’t deserve you. I really don’t,” he whispers, and I wrap an arm around his neck and pull him down on me.
His lips touch mine again, and it’s like a match has been lit. It’s like I am fire, and he is gasoline, and when we come together, we start a fire that will consume both of us.
Manic with need, he peppers kisses along my jaw and down my neck, dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh and alternating between sucking and nipping on the spot right above my throbbing pulse. He kisses me until I’m helpless and whimpering.
He moves lower, dragging his mouth down, his lips find my breasts, and he sucks on the rosy tips of my nipples, eliciting sparks of pleasure from deep within my center. Swirling his tongue, he sucks one nipple while rolling the other between two fingers.
Raising my hips off the mattress, I signal my need to him.
“Cage, please, touch me. Please…” My fingers sink into his hair, and I hold his face to my breast, never wanting him to stop.
Releasing my breast with a pop, he kisses a path down over my belly until he reaches my hips, where he places a kiss on each one. My chest is heaving, and I’m burning with need. I’ve never felt so worked up in my life. I’m strung as tight as a bow, and I need Cage to release the arrow to remove the tension.
With an experience that makes my cheeks burn, he spreads my legs wide enough so his hulking frame can fit between them. Then he drops to his belly and peers up at me.
“I’m going to touch you, but it’s not going to be with just my fingers. I need to taste you too, see if you’re as sweet as you smell.”
“Yes, please!”
I’m far too overwhelmed and needy to be embarrassed, and my lips part on a moan when he presses my knees back against my chest and licks me, ass to pussy and back again. He feasts on me like I am air, water, and his final meal.
“Fuck, just like I’d imagined,” he growls against my folds, his tongue working some type of voodoo magic on my clit. Sucking and licking, he flicks the tiny bud until I swear, I’m going to start shaking.
When I’m on the verge of an orgasm, he pulls away and brings two fingers to the entrance of my pussy. I’m so wet, my arousal coats my thighs, making it so his fingers slip inside with ease. There’s a slight burn and stretching. I feel fuller than I’ve ever felt before. I whimper as he gently moves his fingers, pumping them in and out, giving me time to adjust while