Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,16
So, maybe she had affected him as powerfully as he had her. And he had taken himself in hand to ease his body’s discomfort. Ivy definitely liked that scenario better. Had he thought of her? Naked and beneath him? Or with her legs thrown over his shoulders and driving into her? She’d thought of them both ways and about a dozen other variations on flexibility and possibility.
She left her bowl on the table and spread herself out on the bed. She thought about Jake, dick in hand, eyes closed, as he thought about her, whispered her name, his voice roughened with passion. And in her mind, she replaced his hand with her mouth. He was big and she had to spread her lips wide just to cover his head. His eyes snapped open, liquid fire. His hands wove into her hair, keeping her on her knees before him even as fought for control. She was determined. She flicked her tongue against the velvety knob, swirled it around the ridge of his helmet, sucked him deeper into her mouth and listened to the need rip through his body as he came in a torrent that was red-hot and heady.
At some point Ivy had slipped her hand beneath her undies and found her slick folds. She had pressed her fingers to her aching clit and then, when she’d had Jake deep in her mouth, she had plunged into her body with one and then two fingers. Plunged and swirled and came in a sticky mess she imaged Jake lapping up and then sharing with her in a kiss that was soul-searing.
She fell asleep promising herself that she would share this moment with Jake at some point. Whisper in his ear all the naughty things she’d done to him in her mind, and some of the things she longed for him to do to her.
Jake finished his run at seven miles. He stood on the balcony at the back of his apartment and drank deeply from a bottle of water while he watched traffic pass below. His view was about as concrete jungle as you could get—a four lane street, strip mall, gas station, a stack of freeway signs and a convenience store. But it was close to base and didn’t break his budget. A few years ago he’d grown tired of barracks living and rented the place, even though he spent a good deal of time out of the country. He needed the space, the distance from everything military. A place to decompress. As an officer, he pulled in a good paycheck. He saved for after, whenever that would be. For the first time in a long time, though, he thought only about now.
As in, right now Ivy was sleeping. Her skin was warm and pliant. And despite his run, his dick was at half-mast just thinking of her. Last night, he had stood in the shower and taken care of his massive hard-on. Only it was Ivy taking care of him and he had lifted her and braced her against the tiled wall and drove into her until they were both screaming with their release.
He wondered if her nipples were a deep tan or a dusty rose. If the curls at her sex were tinted with the same red in her hair. If her mouth would really be as hot and tight around his cock as he imagined. And if he’d ever find out.
He broke off a curse and tossed his empty bottle into the recycle bin. What the hell was wrong with him? Thinking about Ivy like this was completely masochistic behavior. It was like asking for a whipping and then begging for it to stop.
And he had no doubt she could move him there—to a point where he would beg to get between her legs. He’d bet his next pay she tasted like nirvana.
His dick surged to its full glory just thinking about her on his tongue and he cupped his palm against the rigid flesh, knowing he was his only source of relief at this point.
He could not show up for their date tomorrow night hard and horny. It would be a week before he even got close to sliding into her. Maybe longer. He groaned with the thought. Two weeks would be better. For longevity. To lay a foundation. All that good stuff his rational mind kept throwing up as necessities for a lasting relationship. Too bad his brain couldn’t keep his dick in line.
He strode into