her neck, then moaned louder when his tongue touched the tender spot right under her ear. “Mmm, yes. That feels good.” Her hand slid across his chest. “You feel good.”
He cupped her jaw in his hand and brought her mouth up to his again. As the kiss got hotter, wetter, more frantic, she slipped her tiny hand between them and rubbed his cock through his sweats. Jesus. Those firm, sweet strokes had him digging his fingers into her back, panting against her lips.
They weren’t even naked yet, he wasn’t even in her, and somehow she had him a heartbeat away from embarrassing himself.
He was losing control fast. He needed to rein himself in. But good intentions couldn’t stop him from rocking his hips, thrusting against her hand, and sliding his fingertips inside her robe.
“Kendall,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “I need to ask. You’ve had a hell of a day. Are you sure about this?”
She tightened her hand around his erection, dragging a groan from the back of his throat. “Does it feel like I’m at all unsure?”
“I’m going to need to hear it.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I want you, Jackson. I’ve wanted you for so long. And stop holding back, will you? You’re killing me here.”
And that was the exact moment when his self-control snapped like a dry twig.
His hands moved into her hair and fisted so quickly she gasped. “Good,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. It had taken on a rough, feral tone he couldn’t remember ever using. “Then you might want to hang onto to something. This might get rough.”
Yeeeeesssss. Finally!
Kendall’s stomach tightened with anticipation as she watched him rise up to his knees and wrestle out of his shirt.
She’d seen his chest and abs before, of course—all those mouth-watering, taut, tanned muscles, mocking her whenever she took pictures of them for his social media. But she’d never been within touching (and tasting) distance.
When she sat up and reached for him, he put a hand on her chest and shoved her back down on the mattress. Then he pulled her robe open and pushed her knees apart.
“I need to touch you,” she moaned impatiently.
Her whole body trembled as he kissed his way up her leg, starting at the ankle.
“You will,” he said, his tongue tracing a lazy pattern on her inner thigh. “But not until you come.”
Her breath escaped in a hiss when his tongue stroked up her center and over her clit. Kendall grabbed two-fistfuls of the sheets beneath her and held on for dear life.
“First, though, I’m going to make you scream my name.”
No one had ever made her scream. But she did just that when he slid two thick fingers inside her.
“And maybe beg a little,” he added, almost off-handedly, like he wasn’t completely blowing her mind.
She didn’t doubt for a minute she’d end up begging, because when his mouth closed over her clit and sucked as his fingers started moving, she would’ve given him anything—everything—he wanted to get him to keep going.
Do. Not. Stop.
Every muscle in her body tightened and quaked, and she felt the sheets tearing beneath her fingernails. Sounds she’d never made in her life—feral, desperate sounds—were ripped from her throat, their pitch rising higher and higher in time with the pace of his tongue and fingers.
And just when she was at her peak, he pulled his hand away and slid his tongue deep inside. She let out a choked gasp as pleasure lashed her hard, unrelenting.
He was coaxing feelings, sensations, out of her that she didn’t even know she was capable of. But coaxing wasn’t really the right word. It was more like he was demanding she give him everything and not hold back a single moan or cry of pleasure.
She was completely powerless, and for once in her life, Kendall was one-hundred percent OK with that. He could have control. He could have whatever he wanted as long as he was making her feel like this.
She couldn’t help but lift her head and watch as he played her body as skillfully as he played his guitar. His thumb rubbed hard and fast circles over her clit as his tongue thrust in and out of her. In and out, in and out, over and over again until she broke, screaming so loud she was pretty sure every guest in the hotel now knew Jackson’s name.
Holy. God.
She’d had no idea orgasms like that even existed outside of romance novels. Or porn. But what she’d just had…it was like