Chapter 39

Before I could argue, he moved to seal my lips with a kiss that left me breathless and aching for another. When he pulled away, I leaned up toward him, desperate to feel his lips on mine again and again. Between us, I gave his length another long, smooth stroke.

His words might say wait, but body was good and ready. And mine was more than ready. I felt an aching heat flood my core, making me slick with yearning. I wanted him now. I wanted that fullness, that closeness. I wanted to feel his skin against my skin and feel him pulse deep inside me like he was pulsing in my hand.

And then, my hand was maddeningly empty. With a moan of frustration, I realized he had pulled away. Didn't he know I was dying for him?

I wanted to protest, to drag him back against me, or to beg, if that's what it took. But then, something made me stop. It was the barest whisper of fingers brushing against my thigh. They crept upward with a maddening deliberation that made me knees tremble with wild anticipation.

I clamped my lips shut to keep from begging aloud. Soon, I felt a finger brush the center of my panties, rubbing that aching knob through the thin cotton fabric.

It was bliss and madness wrapped up in one. The touch was light, more a promise than an actual act. I lifted my hips in a silent plea for more. But more never came. Instead, the teasing continued, a butterfly touch that made me squirm with anticipation and melt from the inside out.

Just when I thought I'd die of the yearning, he reached around with both hands and yanked my panties downward. I heard a rip as the thin fabric gave way to the force of his movements. I gave an audible moan and lifted my hips higher.

"That's my girl," he said, brushing something – maybe a thumb, maybe a finger – across that singular spot until I squirmed harder against him. My hips trembled, and my breath caught. When I felt a finger slide lower and slip slowly inside me, I gave a soft moan and reached for him yet again.

This time, he didn't pull away. I gripped him in hungry hand, savoring the feel of him as I stroked his length and heard the sweetest sound of my name on his lips.

But still, I wanted more. With his shirt open and his pants still mostly on, he was wearing way too many clothes. Trying to sit up, I said, "My turn to undress you."

In response, he slid another finger inside and moved his thumb faster on the outside. I tried to protest, to tell him that I wanted him naked too, that I wanted him to feel the wonderful things that I was feeling. And yet, in the darkness, I heard his breath and felt his desire, and I knew, without a doubt, that he was loving this just as much as I was.

Gazing at his silhouette poised above me, it felt like a dream, a wonderful dream, a fantasy that by some miracle, had actually come true. When my body began to convulse with those impossible waves, I didn't fight them. Instead, I let myself get lost in those sensations, not caring what sounds I made or what he'd think of me in the morning.

As my hips rose and fell, he rode the waves with me, stroking me inside and out, coaxing more sensations that I ever dreamed possible. When my trembling reached a fevered pitch, he leaned his head down to mine and said in a low, possessive voice. "I've been thinking of you, of this, all night."

My breath caught. I found it hard to believe. But I wanted to believe it, so I shut off the logical part of my brain and let myself get carried away with his motions and his words, trying not to care whether he meant them or not.

When my trembling subsided and something like sanity returned, I surged upward and wrapped my arms around his back. I was naked. But he still wasn't. I pushed him back against the arm of the sofa and shimmied backwards.

I reached down and gripped the hem of his pants with both hands. I gave the fabric a hard tug, dragging his pants downward until his body was utterly free of them.

I longed for more light. I wanted to look at him, to drink in the sight of him. I wanted to remember this forever and make sure that he remembered it too. At the idea, a little voice reminded me that to me, this was a big deal. But to him, it might be something forgotten the moment I left.

I told that voice to be quiet and moved forward to straddle his hips. With a fevered desperation, I raised my hips and gripped his hardness. I felt his pulse against me. I pressed my palms flat against his chest and trailed my fingers downward. I pushed aside his shirt and ran my hands along his sides and up toward his broad shoulders.

I leaned my face close to his. His breaths were coming in shorter bursts, and I heard him whisper my name, a plea, a caress. "Luna?"

I raised my hips and reached down with one hand. I positioned the head of his massive erection at my opening. "Hmmm?"

His voice was ragged. "Don’t go."

Slowly, I lowered my hips, welcoming his body into mine, not a lot, but enough to get his attention.  "Don't go where?" I whispered, lowering my hips another fraction.

He gave a low groan. "Anywhere," he said. "Don't go anywhere."

He had no idea what he was saying. He was my drug, my hero, my fantasy. At this point, nothing could drag me away. What tomorrow brought, well, that was another matter. Tonight, he was mine, and I intended to show him just how much.

Before our hips met, I pulled back, wanting him to want me as much as I wanted him. I felt his body tense, and his breath hitch. When he was nearly in danger of sliding free of me, I lowered my hips down tight against his, taking all of his fullness deep inside.

I caught my breath, intoxicated by the nearness of him, savoring the fullness that grew as my hips continued their downward motion.

And then, I couldn’t make either of us wait any more. I gave in to the movements of my hips, letting them carry me away, and him along with me. I arched upward and rocked back down, over and over, taking him into me again and again.

I kissed his lips and let my tongue dance along his neck. I felt his hands on my hips, and heard his voice in my ear, sometimes a moan, sometimes a murmur. My name fell from his lips as often as his fell from mine.

It was so blissful I wanted to cry, and I wanted to laugh. In real life, the reality never lived up to the fantasy. But this time, it did. Jake was everything I'd ever dreamed of and more. And he was mine, if only for tonight.

When he shuddered against me, and cradled me hard against him, I gave up any semblance of control and joined him in riding the waves of a climax so intense I couldn’t stop myself from crying out. My sounds mingled with his, and soon, I sagged against him, almost embarrassed, but not nearly enough to regret it.

When he spoke, it was with a tenderness that took me by surprise. "You should've run." He pressed his forehead against mine. "But I'm so damn glad you didn't."