CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Shane
Oh my God, yes.
Yes, yes, yes!
I should be saying no. I should be slamming on the brakes and insisting we at least lay down some ground rules before we violate, in a hundred hot and heavy ways, the contract we both signed, but my thoughts are all yes.
All yes and hell yes and oh my God he’s touching me—finally touching me everywhere I’ve been dying for him to touch, and it feels like I might die from the bliss of it, but hell…what a way to go.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs as he guides the straps of my dress off my shoulders and my breasts fall free. “I can’t wait to taste you.”
He cups my breasts in his hands and brushes calloused thumbs over my nipples, sending sharp, electric bolts of need surging straight between my legs.
I arch into his touch, moaning as he leans down and tugs one tight nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking it as he rolls the other between his fingers.
My head spins as my fingers drive into his thick hair, helpless to do anything but hang on tight.
“So sweet.” His mouth moves from one breast to the other, his tongue flicking across my yet-to-be-kissed nipple, making me gasp. “So sweet I want to do more than taste you.” He looks up, holding my gaze as he asks, “Can I bite you here, princess?”
I whimper something unintelligible, but manage to get my head to bob up and down. A moment later, Jake’s lips part and his teeth trap my tight, tingling, aching nipple between them. The bites come in waves, in pulses of his jaw, gentle at first and then harder, harder, until it hurts but it doesn’t because it feels so good. So damned good.
His teeth rake across my sensitized skin, and I cry out, a sound that is pure, desperate hunger and way too fucking loud. And for a second the spell is broken as embarrassment sweeps over me.
This is just second base, for God’s sake. I shouldn’t be losing it like this, at least not yet. “Sorry,” I mumble, my face flushing hot.
“For what?” Jake’s breath comes faster as he presses my breasts together, close enough that his tongue can attend to both nipples at once.
“I’m, for, I—oh God.” I tremble, my bones melting as he works dark magic with his mouth.
His tongue. God, his tongue is evil. And wonderful. So wonderful.
“Loud.” I finally manage to force the word out, keeping my voice down this time as he nips at my breast. “I’m loud. Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” he says in a rough voice, his fingers working my nipples as his thigh moves between mine, nudging my legs apart. “No one can hear us out here. I want you to be loud. I want to hear you getting turned on.” He kisses my throat, where my pulse is pounding, speaking his next words against my skin. “And I want to hear you when you come, princess. I need to. I need to hear it.”
Before I can respond, his mouth is on mine and his hands are jerking my dress up around my waist. And then his hand, that big, warm hand I’ve been half in love with from the moment I saw it curled in his lap that first day in the garden, slips down the front of my panties. I’m so desperate for his touch that I cry out in relief as his fingers glide through where I’m swollen and wet.
Wet and hot. Burning. Catching fire.
“Yes,” I sob, my head falling back as Jake pushes two thick fingers inside me, driving deep. “So good. You feel so good.”
“I love that you’re so wet for me, princess,” he says, fucking me with his fingers, taking me higher with every thrust. “I love feeling how much you want me, all over my hand. Fuck yes, baby, I want you to come for me. I can’t wait to feel you come.”
His thumb finds my clit, rubbing as his free hand grabs me behind the knee and pulls my leg up and around his waist, giving him even greater access to my shamelessly wet pussy.
He isn’t gentle or careful. He’s taking what he wants, taking me, and I’m loving every minute of it.
He’s nothing like Wesley, my farm boy who started off slow and easy and delighted me with a kinky surprise now and then. Jake’s hands aren’t careful or reverent; they’re demanding and assured. These are hands that know what to do with a woman’s body and aren’t shy about showing off the things they’ve learned. Hands that don’t hesitate to slip a slick finger over the tight, puckered place behind my pussy and push inside…
I cry out again, but Jake swallows the sound with another kiss, his tongue fucking my mouth as his fingers drive in and out of my pussy and my ass and his thumb demands submission from my clit. He’s everywhere, the taste of him flooding my mouth, the smell of him swimming through my head, while he does things to me that no one has ever done and I don’t know what to think.
I can’t think. I can only feel—feel the blood pounding through my body, feel the pressure spreading in my pelvis, swelling until it’s so big, so intense, so overwhelming that I’m suddenly scared.
It’s too much. He’s too much. I haven’t even stepped into the sex wading pool in over a year, and now I’m out in the middle of the ocean and there’s a storm and it’s dark and wild and I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, and then Jake’s voice is in my head, like he’s whispering from inside my skull, demanding, “Come, princess. Come so hard for me. Come right now. Right now.”
And I do. I come, though it feels more like detonating, exploding, being ripped apart by the pleasure that barrels through me, tightening my womb until it hurts.
It hurts, and it feels so unbelievably good, but it hurts and my chest is so tight. So tight and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die from how beautiful and terrible it all is, and then suddenly air rushes in and tears come rushing out.
One moment I’m coming, the next I’m crying so hard I can’t understand what Jake is saying. I know his touch is gentle as he pulls my clothes back into place and kisses my cheek. I know his voice is soothing and kind as he squeezes my hand before moving away, but I can’t make sense of anything, least of all the tears that keep coming and coming no matter how hard I try to make them stop.
But they’re never going to stop, I’m going to keep crying forever until there’s nothing left but skin and bones, a dried up husk of a woman who was so good at lying to herself that she had no idea the sadness inside of her was reaching critical mass until the dam broke and the flood ruined everything in its path.
Ruined. Everything is ruined.
The thought feels so true that I don’t think about what I’m doing. I simply turn and run, jerking open a door on the other side of the balcony, racing past two confused-looking workers rolling a bin of recyclables into a service elevator, and heading straight to the stairwell. I run down sixty-five flights of stairs, not stopping until I’m dashing out into the cold night and into the first taxi willing to stop for a woman who’s clearly falling to pieces.