Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,153

the bed.

She tried to push back against him, but he growled his displeasure. “Be still,” he ordered, searching her face. “Don’t move.” She nodded, but he added an “Okay?”

She’d been thinking, earlier, about how she wanted him to tell, not ask, but she appreciated that he was the kind of man who sought verbal consent. It signaled a level of care that she wasn’t sure she had ever experienced with anyone in bed before. And somehow that made the experience even sexier.

“Yes,” she whispered, and he lowered his head again. He kept his hands on her hips—not that she had intended to contravene his instructions. It was hard, though, to keep still. It was like having restless legs at night but without the relief of being allowed to move them. The noises he made as he ate at her—growls of pleasure interspersed with incoherent swearing—were so wonderfully obscene, she couldn’t stand it. As much as she was a convert to this delectable form of torture, she needed more.

“Jay!”

She hadn’t meant to yell, but apparently she couldn’t control things like volume and tone anymore. She could barely control her body—but that part seemed okay, because he was doing a spectacular job of it for her, putting it where he wanted it and doing such deliciously filthy things to it.

But of course her cry had come out sounding alarmed. So he stopped. Let go of her hips as his head popped up from between her legs, his handsome face knit in concern.

She heaved a ragged breath and rushed to reassure him that she wasn’t calling things off. “I need you inside me now.”

He smiled a wicked, wicked smile. “You do, eh?”

She nodded frantically, her whole body vibrating.

His hands traced up the sides of her body from her hips and undid her bra, which clasped in the front, and kneaded the flesh of her breasts. She was on her back and stretched out, so there wasn’t much there. She wasn’t very generously endowed, and this position wasn’t showing what she did have to her best advantage—another thing she would have been embarrassed by in other circumstances. But here, now, she didn’t care, just thrust her chest up at him the best she could, taking care not to lift her hips or let go of the headboard. She was still, for some unfathomable reason, following his orders.

Well, actually the reason was fathomable: doing what he said felt so amazingly good.

He took one tight, aching nipple into his mouth, and she practically screamed. It felt so incredible, even as it highlighted how not enough it was.

“I need you inside me.” She tried again, infusing her voice with as much neediness as she could muster and not caring what she sounded like.

“I suggest…” He spoke around her nipple, his teeth gently grazing the too-sensitive flesh. “You ask me nicely.”

“Please, Jay. Please.”

Oh Jesus Christ. The way she lay there, her body splayed and stretched as she continued to hold on to the headboard. The way she begged him so nicely…Fuck.

Jay had had a lot of sex in his life. A lot of different kinds of sex. He liked it all—you might call him an enthusiastic agnostic in matters of the bedroom.

But maybe that was because he’d never had exactly this kind of sex, with this woman.

He had found religion.

And it involved bossing Elise Maxwell around. For example: “Spread your legs wider.”

She spread her legs wider so fast it unbalanced him.

But it wasn’t a simple case of some mild dominance, as it also involved getting her to mouth off. So when he said, “So pretty. I could just lay here and look at you forever,” he had an ulterior motive.

The compliment embedded in the statement was the absolute truth, but really, he couldn’t lie here looking at her forever. He was shaking with the effort of not touching her. He was trying to bait her.

It worked. She lifted her head, even as she maintained her grasp on the headboard. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She just glared at him.

He chuckled and ran a hand lightly over the pink folds that had been exposed by his previous command that she spread her legs. But the joke was on him, because his control was hanging by a thread. But…

Birth control. He had to hold on to his senses long enough to take care of her, to ensure her comfort. “What are we doing for birth control?” he rasped as he dragged the tip of his