95
After everything that’s happened, everything I’ve felt these past few weeks in his absence, and feeling like we let a gulf open between us, I don’t care about the consequences anymore. I want to lose myself in everything that’s him and let my control, for once, subside. I need him.
He pulls me off the wall, and we’re on the floor instantly, mouths still deliciously molded together, the carpet soft under my back as he cushions the transition. His attention awakens that deepest desire in me while the weight of his body on mine is sexy and turns me on so crazily.
He’s on top of me, and we’re pulling at each other’s clothes without thought, every hard line of his body pushed against mine, grinding into me. He wants me as much as I want him, his erection crushing into my damp panties. His mouth knows no limits, and he’s kissing me with all the expertise of a seasoned pro; he could make me tip over the edge with his kiss alone, and he seems to know it.
Why have I never wanted to be kissed like this? This is every fantasy come true.
There is nothing terrifying or repulsive about this; it’s drawing me in, opening me up, making my head go blank with desire. I suck on his lip the way he has on mine before, extracting a moan from him that pushes my fire higher. His hands slide over my body, exploring and ravaging me, feeling my breasts, waist, and thighs as he maneuvers me exactly how he wants me. I’m breathless and burning up with a feverish need. I’ve never felt this way or wanted it more.
There’s a rip across my chest as he yanks my blouse open, tearing it like paper. I’m surprised, but I’ve never been so horny in my life over something this primal; I grasp for his buttons instinctively. I try to get them open, but I’m not as smooth as he is with his Hulk-like clothes-ripping ability, and I’m fumbling. He’s all over me, caressing my curves and pulling me into him at new angles as he continues his possession of my body. His mouth runs over every inch of skin he can find while exposing more. We’re frantic, panting, and lost in an intense heat leading to an explosion. I’m lost under his attentive hands, and I’m imploding inside with desire, my body clenching in ways I never knew it could, my core pulsating and throbbing for fulfillment.
It will happen this time, and I’m not going to stop it; it seems neither is he. He’s intent on tasting every piece of me, licking and sucking, then returning to my mouth to capture me again, pushing my surrender to him.
This is what it feels like to be Jake’s focus and desire, and it’s incredible.
He rips my skirt open, giving no shit about it.
Jesus, does he have to do that?
I’m sure it unbuttons easily, but it’s making me crazy for him. It used to be my favorite skirt, I reflect fleetingly.
Who am I kidding? It’s a turn-on, searing hot. It’s crazy, erotic, and primal, and I love that he’s literally tearing my clothes off with impatience to get at me.
I follow suit and yank at his shirt, experiencing the overwhelming satisfaction of ripping cloth, buttons popping off, revealing his toned physique and tanned skin. He grins against my mouth mid-kiss, and I almost spasm with pleasure. I’ve never felt desired this way and welcome it openly.
How can one man be so sensual with so little effort?
His hands come up and cradle the sides of my face, stroking my jawline, trying to calm the pace, before he pulls my hands up beside my head and holds them down. There’s an urgency to it, but I squirm under him, pushing against him hard, trying to ignite full-on sex.
“Slow down, Emma,” he breathes against my face.
No, no, no. Don’t stop, don’t let me slow down, and let my mind take over. Don’t let me start thinking this through.
If I let the memories and doubts creep in, I won’t let go. I won’t let this happen.
I need this to happen.
He slightly shifts his position on me, pushing firmly between my thighs, and I know he will not stop. He’s turned on too, majorly so, and even with my inexperience, I can feel the full hardness of him against my pelvis, his dick straining against his pants.
My cheeks flush with the knowledge and embarrassment at the evidence, my innocence and naivety showing. My fingers wriggle free to roam over his body and arms hungrily in response, trying to feel out every forbidden part of him. He’s teasing my mouth, kissing and nibbling my lips, driving me insane with need; I can almost feel my body building to self-implode, yet he’s still trying to slow the pace.
No! I want him to lose control in the way I am. I want the passion and the hunger, the fast clothes-ripping and heated motion of seconds ago.
I groan and pull him down on top of me, trying to make that clear, forcing the inner voices away in a surge of stubborn passion. The intensity of this burning longing overpowers me as he goes for my throat, kissing and trailing his warm breath across my skin, goosebumps forming while I writhe and squirm under him in desperation. He pulls what is left of my skirt free and casually tosses it aside, confident in what he’s doing, a sign of his ‘sexpertease’ and experience. His hands are at the lace of my panties, and I mentally thank Donna for her love of buying me sexy black lingerie.
Or not …
Now that he’s just ripped it off, the thin lace disintegrates under strong fingers. I squeak in surprise. He smiles again, this time against my throat, his teeth pressed against me, his stubble gently scraping my delicate skin with the movement of his face. It makes me arch under him as I moan out.
I love how that feels, how he feels. He’s teasing me; he knows how to drag this out so that I’m begging for more, and it’s all so new to me. If only he knew how big a deal this is. Sex is easy for him, and he has no idea how broken I am inside. How even getting this far is a massive leap for me, and I’m letting go for him.
He lifts his body to one side and shrugs out of his shirt; I can’t help but lock eyes with him, caught in his steady gaze, with no hesitation. His pupils are dilated with a look of sheer lust, and he’s still as seductive as the first time I ever laid eyes on him. No niggling doubts anymore. I don’t care if he fires me after this. I want this more than I want my job.
I yank at the button of his pants, impatient to feel him inside of me to quell this craving, but he stills my hand. He moves down my body, trailing kisses across my naked stomach and lower down to my …
Oh, fuck!
I writhe back into an arch as his mouth connects with my core, and I cry out. I grasp at the floor. I hadn’t expected that at all. He probes with his tongue, and I moan loudly, unraveling. I’ve never felt anything like this, and I’m so close to the edge of a precipice that it’s terrifying. No one’s ever kissed me down there. It’s warm and engulfing, sensations so purely divine that I roll my eyes back in my head and lose control of my limbs. I writhe beneath his attention, hot waves building inside of me. I’m trying to hold still, but I’m squirming and moving and arching. I grab his shoulders, trying to haul him up, scared that the sensations will overpower me; I want more than his mouth. But he pins my hands down at my sides, holding me in place.
He continues his erotic assault, and I can’t take it. I can’t let go; I can’t release like this. This sensation … I’ve never orgasmed before, but I know this is what is building inside me, and the growing tension is terrifying, like a tidal wave from my toes. I have heard enough about what orgasms are to figure out this is what’s happening.
No. No, no … Yes … No!
“Let go, Emma,” he coaxes me, but I can’t. I’m trying … I’m trying, but my head’s spiraling with confusion.
What happens if I let it happen? What happens if I let him push me over the edge?
I don’t want to fall; I don’t want to reach that pinnacle and drop-down free falling. I like control. I need control. I don’t want this to end because I’m scared of what happens next. It’s too much. It’s terrifying. I don’t know what’s on the other side.
He shifts over me, bringing my hands above my head in a swift change, pinning them down. His eyes are heavy with longing, his mouth parted, and he is breathing hard. I want him so badly it physically hurts.
“Fine, have it your way.” He raises his eyebrows sardonically. Was that a threat?
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