Blacklisted (Loveless, Texas #3) - Jay Crownover Page 0,70

otherwise quiet apartment, and I felt the back of his knuckles drag deliberately through the silken folds between my spread thighs. My body jolted as if electrified, and all my nerve endings started to sing with pleasure.

“So soft. So wet. I love the way you respond to me.” The husky words did as much to turn up the heat as the way he touched me between my legs.

He shifted his weight and his hold on me so he could use a hand to dig through the wallet attached to his dark jeans by some kind of chain. When his jeans dropped to the floor around his ankles, there was a huge rattle as all the metal hit the ground. The sound was followed by him quickly discarding a pair of black boxer-briefs.

He watched me without blinking as he ripped open the small foil square he’d pulled from his wallet, still waiting for me to resist or pull back. I wasn’t going to, but it was nice to know the option was there, regardless of how deep into things we were. He said he’d mind my boundaries as long as they were healthy and in my best interest, and he seemed to be staying true to those words.

As he rolled the latex down the length of his erection, the backs of his fingers brushed against very eager and enthusiastic places. My breath caught when I felt the very tip of his cock press against my opening. He used his hand to guide himself inward, pausing to press the tip against the little bud of my clit. I gasped at the sensation and watched as satisfaction lit up Shot’s chiseled face. He looked even more darkly handsome than usual. The carnal slant to his strong features was something that made my heart beat erratically.

I exhaled long and slow when he finally stopped playing with me and pressed all the way inside my body. I was like putty in his hands. I melted around him. Molded to him. My body hungrily pulled him in and clenched excitedly around his long, hard length. We both groaned in pleasure, and I could no longer keep my eyes open. It all felt like a dirty, sexy dream.

I was probably choking the life out of him with how tightly I was clinging to him, from top to bottom, but he told me to hold on, so that was what I was doing.

I moaned his name when he started to move, the motion smooth and practiced. The glide and retreat made my head spin and my body pulse happily around his powerful thrusts. He was so strong. Every part of him that was pressed against me flexed beautifully. I could feel his muscles tense and strain against my skin. It was so, so much better than with any of the polished, soft men I’d been with before him. I thought he wasn’t my type, but I was starting to think I had no idea what my type was. He was so much better than anyone before. He grunted against the curve of my shoulder where his forehead was resting. He muttered something that sounded like, “So good,” but I was too caught up in my own experience to appreciate the compliment.

His fingers pressed into my flesh where he was holding me, and I knew I was going to have bruises in the morning. It didn’t matter. Everywhere else felt too good to focus on the parts that stung. I felt the edge of his teeth against my collarbone and pulled him closer as his steady rhythm started to falter.

My body clenched in pleasure, everything inside going very slick and hot. Shot swore at my involuntary reaction and shifted so he could wrap the fingers of one hand around my jaw. He forced my head up and, with a growl, asked me to open my eyes. He held my face still, his nearly black eyes burning intensely into mine. He was close to the edge, I could see it in the strain and concentration on his face and hear it in the way his breathing hitched and skipped.

“What do you need, Presley? Tell me.” The words were a rough rasp that brought goose bumps on my skin.

I blinked at him and loosened a hand so I could wrap it around his wrist. His pulse thundered under my fingertips.

“I need you.” It was true. He didn’t need to do much more than focus his full attention on me, and I