Jake (California Dreamy) - By Rian Kelley Page 0,46

so that her fingers played along the ridge on his shaft, and lifted her lips so that she could graze that sweet spot below his ear. Jake’s cock grew to an impossible thickness. His breath hit the back of his teeth and his whole body clenched.

“Ivy, no,” he grunted.

Ivy felt the moistness gather between her thighs. She moved her body, trapping his erection against her belly, rocking against him so that the friction she created centered on his crown.

“Condom,” he gasped.

But those were in the bathroom. And if Jake wasn’t going to let her pleasure him with her

mouth, then she would do it like this. She increased pressure and pace, felt his hands fall away from her shoulders and gather fistfuls of sheet as he fought off what she was determined he would have, what she wanted to give—an orgasm as powerful as the many he’d given her.

She moved then, sliding down his body until his shaft was between the cradle of her breasts. It shattered the last of his resolve. He loved her breasts, lavished attention on them every chance he got, and she knew that this was probably somewhere on that bucket list. She tightened the channel she’d made for him and felt his hips jerk reflexively.

He was flushed, engorged, and as they moved, his seed began to spill from the velvet tip and bath her in a heated pool.

Jake was watching too, his jaw clenched, heat surfacing in his cheeks. The fire in his eyes turned liquid and seared hers when he found her gaze. When he was finished, when Ivy had milked him for all he had, Jake lifted a hand and smoothed his semen over her breasts.

“That was not enough,” Jake mumbled. Ivy was spread over his chest, his hands tangled in her dark hair. As his testosterone calmed he began to fill with recriminations. “You didn’t come,” he said. He never made love to a woman without her coming first and coming often.

She lifted her head and gazed into his eyes. Hers were soft, sincere. “Sometimes, Jake, you have to let a woman give. It’s what we do. What we need to do.”

He detected a slight irritation in her tone and remembered how she had coiled away from him in that moment, when he had pulled himself from her mouth and made a play to regain control of their progress. Damn, that had been a screaming success. He’d wanted to return the focus to her, but she’d been so determined. And he’d ended up coming anyway. Neither of them had gotten what they wanted. Because he had tried to control the outcome.

“I didn’t let you have that,” he said.

“You did, for a moment,” she conceded, and a smile curved her lovely lips. “I want to know that I move you as deeply as you do me.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no doubt—“

But she interrupted him. “I need to give equally. To be a partner,” she impressed upon him. “You want me to trust you, Jake, but that’s a mutual necessity.”

And he knew she was right. But she was asking the impossible, because it wasn’t her he didn’t trust, but himself. And so he always held himself a bit aloof in the clinch. That, too, was becoming impossible. He’d never been so challenged before. He’d never wanted to give in so badly. It would have been a glorious freedom, to tumble head first into Ivy and thoroughly enjoy himself, but what would that have done to her? If he’d lost all restraint, bucked against her as that wild rush built, he would have hurt her.

It was unacceptable. The thought had shaken him and he had removed himself from her mouth, from temptation.

He felt her fingers at his hairline, stroking his temple, and opened his eyes.

“A man’s passion should never be fully unleashed,” he told her.

“Bullshit.”

“What?” It wasn’t her language that surprised him, but her simple and confident reply.

“How old were you when you crashed that car?”

“Seventeen.”

“Don’t you think thirteen years is enough time spent behind bars? I mean, no one was hurt, Jake. You said so yourself.”

“It wasn’t just the car.” Though that had been his wake-up call. “I was on a self-destructive path. I had a history of bad decisions. Out of control behavior.”

“How much history can a seventeen year old have?”

She sat up, facing him, and pulled the sheet over herself demurely. And that really bothered him. He didn’t like her covering herself from him. He didn’t like that she felt she had to.

“Plenty, if you