Shock - Marie Johnston Page 0,59
able to touch her was a special form of torture, I most definitely accepted.
My hand is raised to flip on the light when she says, “Leave it off.”
I like the sound of that. “Tell me you’re naked already.”
Clothing rustles in the dark. “Now I am.”
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for all day, baby.” I rip my shirt over my head. “Get on the table.”
She hesitates.
I undo the clasp on my pants. “The table, Lia. I’m a starving man.”
“You’re so naughty,” she breathes but pads softly to her small kitchen table. A chair scrapes against the floor.
I grab my wallet before I drop my pants and walk out of them. After I have the condom, I toss the wallet and don’t care where it lands. She’s leaning against the table, not on it like I asked, but I don’t care. I’ll make her comfortable enough to perch on it and spread herself for me.
But first, I have a question.
I approach her, not saying a word. Her breathing quickens and I’m as hard as a rock, yet I take my time.
When I reach her, I don’t attack, but drop my head and capture her mouth. She snakes her arms around me, aligning our bodies in the dark until my erection is smashed between us.
I let the kiss linger until our lips break apart. I keep my voice quiet, preserving this moment between us. “Not that I’m complaining, but what prompted you to jump me?”
“I didn’t jump you.”
She can’t make out my dubious expression. I’ve always been the initiator of the first round. After that, she’s my wanton little goddess. But tonight’s different.
She runs a hand along my collarbone and up my neck. Cupping my face, she says, “I’m just really happy right now. I like where I’m at and who I’m with.”
“Good. Because I don’t plan on going anywhere.” A flood of relief cascades through me, going so far as to dampen the stiffness of my hard-on. We’re both on the same page. We have the same goals. Other than chemistry and respect, that’s become one of the most important things in a relationship. Something I’ve avoided until now. Until I found the right person.
The moment of relief is over and need pounds into me. I need to claim her, make her mine, again and again until we’re both too boneless to move from each other’s side.
I grip her ass and lift her to the table. I love the hitch in her breath, the way she’s always surprised that I can handle her so easily.
Feeling behind me, I find the chair and take a seat, moving her legs apart as soon as I’m settled.
“Ford—”
I go in for a taste. There’s too much desire in her tone, too much longing, she’s too close to begging. This moment is proving something to the both of us. It’s like a promise. Me and her against the world.
Her head drops back. Her hands are planted beside her and they keep her stable as I lick her over and over, fast then slow, just the way she likes.
“I can’t hold on—” She tries to muffle her cry, to keep from waking Mrs. Rosenthal next door, but it’s a lost cause as she comes on my tongue. I haven’t even used my hands, or any other part of my body. Just the tip of my tongue and she’s mine.
I rise, hooking her legs around my waist. She collapses back, breathless. “I don’t usually come that fast.”
“You will again,” I promise.
I get the condom on, but everything else after that is unhurried. We have the rest of the night with each other.
I slide my thumb through her folds and rest it against her clit. She gasps but arches into me, caught between wanting to draw away from being so sensitive and needing to get off again.
“I’ve got you.” Slowly, I push a finger inside. With only the motion of my finger going in and out to move my thumb on her swollen clit, I build the next climax one tiny thrust at a time. Once the sensitivity of the first orgasm is gone and she matches my movements with the surge of her hips, I speed up and add little circles.
She’s spread out before me, her beautiful breasts just out of reach while I strum her body. Soon. I’ll get to those, but she comes first, in all ways.
She draws her knees up, her climax close, and I watch her intently. It’s dark, but I can read her moans