CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sarah
I’m convinced Jack’s kisses are magical and have some super-secret power because I’m barely aware he’s steering me back beneath the awning and against the door of a nearby closed shop. All I care about is the fact he’s kissing me again. And let me tell you, his kisses are unique and something to savor. He doesn’t slobber all over your face or practically eat it off. He’s gentle, and he uses the perfect amount of tongue.
Speaking of tongue… God in heaven above. When his tongue slides against mine, I feel a jolt all the way down to my toes. The taste of my chocolate and Jack combined is beyond decadent.
When we finally break the kiss, our breathing is labored, and I exhale loudly. “Your kisses…” I shake my head; my eyes still transfixed on Jack’s lips. “They have some sort of strange magic—”
“Like voodoo magic?”
“And I feel it all the way down deep in my—”
“Lady parts?”
I make a face. “I would say toes.”
“Oh.” He offers a look of exaggerated disappointment.
Grinning suddenly, I wink. “I’m kidding.” Leaning in, I brush my lips against his as I softly whisper, “I feel it all the way down deep in my lady parts.” My teeth gently toy with his full bottom lip before I add, “And then some.”
A low growl erupts from his throat, and I’m immediately caged in by his firm, broad chest at my front and the hard brick building at my back. His muscular body presses against me as he cradles the back of my head in his hand. When his mouth slants over mine, taking it in an even hotter, more passionate kiss, every fiber within me feels electrified. Every slide of his tongue against my own sends another delicious shiver through my body, and I’m certain my nipples couldn’t be harder than they are now.
When we come up for air, I press my palms against his chest. Our gazes lock as I whisper against his lips, “If you want to continue this, then you’d better come home with me now.”
Instantly, Jack’s fingers link through mine, and we’re rushing along the sidewalk to the corner to flag a cab for the short ride over to my place.
* * *
Masturbation is one of the best activities in the world. Some days, I’d go so far as to consider it the number one best.
Here’s the deal. I have the sex drive of a teenage boy. I’ll let you decide whether that’s a blessing or a curse. No, seriously. I really do. Here are some examples.
When I finish having sex—good sex, like the kind where I actually have an orgasm—and then the guy and I are lying there, trying to catch our breath, the guy is usually thinking about a nap or a beer or whatever else. But me? I’m ready to go again. I need zero recuperation time. I’m all systems go.
Next example—I love masturbating. If I could get paid to do that, I’d totally jump on that opportunity. Not to mention, I’m convinced I’d make millions. I can masturbate multiple times in one sitting—or more aptly, lying. I think my top number is sixteen times in a row. Yeah, I was a little sore afterward, but it was absolutely worth it.
Go ahead, say I’m a weirdo and tell me how much help I need, but I can claim with complete honesty that I once had someone say, “Teach me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” But I will say this: there’s a price. Because, honest to God, I burn up the motor in at least one vibrator quarterly. And have to replace the rechargeable batteries twice a year. The Subscribe and Save option Amazon has? That sucker is perfect because, thank you, masturbation gods, they allow me to save money and automatically send me a new vibrator quarterly. Just in time for the old one to kick the bucket.
The issue I have is men who aren’t confident enough to allow my vibrator to come out and play during our sexy times. They act like I’ve somehow insulted them and say something like, “That’s weird.”
Um, you know what’s weird? When guys don’t care to think outside the box when it comes to pleasing their woman. That’s what’s weird, people.
You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this. I’m going to make Jack run the gauntlet; as in, I’m going to introduce him to my vibrator. If he accepts it, he’ll pass with flying colors. If not, it’s going to be the old, Sorry ’bout ya luck.
You’re hoping he doesn’t pass, an inner voice whispers. He makes you uneasy because you know he wants more than you’re willing to give.
Mentally shaking off those errant thoughts, I tug Jack inside my apartment and barely manage to close and lock the door behind us before we start tearing at each other’s clothing, leaving a trail down the hallway leading to my bedroom.
When I shove him back on my bed, I can’t help but give myself a mental high five at managing to get over six feet of manly goodness in his naked glory atop my covers. Shifting to straddle him, I reach over to tug open the small drawer on my nightstand, my fingers wrapping around a familiar object before withdrawing it.
My eyes meet his with a challenge. “Get ready, Westbrook.”
His heavy-lidded gaze flicks over my naked body before coming back to rest on the toy in my hand. Reaching for it, he thumbs the wheel, adjusting it to the highest speed. Pressing the tip against my clit, I jerk at the contact, adjusting my perch over him. The feel of his further hardening cock right beneath my spread legs combined with the way he moves the vibrator over my clit sends delicious shivers down my spine.
His other hand slides up my body, a palm cupping the swell of one breast while the calloused pad of his thumb skims over the tip of my hardened nipple. Arching into his touch, I rock my hips slightly, silently urging him on as my eyes fall closed.
“Fuck, Sarah.” He lets out a harsh breath. “So damn wet.” He continues his ministrations on my clit, driving me closer to orgasm while toying with my nipple, plucking at it. I can feel the way I’m coating the tip of his cock with my wetness. God, I need him inside me again.
“Jack,” I whimper, rocking myself over him. “Don’t stop.”
I’m so close. So freaking close. My toes curl, my muscles tighten in anticipation, and I feel the start of the first spasm of my inner muscles—
“Aaaaah!” I rear back, scrambling off him so frantically, I end up tumbling over the side of the bed and toppling onto the floor. The impact knocks the breath out of me, and I lie here, naked on my back on my bedroom floor, stunned.
“What the hell was that?” I hiss quietly, staring up at the ceiling.
Jack hovers over me worriedly. “Are you okay?”
“What happened?” My eyes are wide in shock and horror. My hand rubs gingerly over my lady parts which just received a shock—literally.
“Uh, I think there was…” he trails off as if unsure how to tell me, “some sort of short-circuit in the vibrator?” His expression hovers between shock and mirth.
Throwing an arm over my eyes, I groan, muttering to myself, “Did I seriously come close to searing my own vagina tonight? Brilliant, Sarah. Just brilliant.”
“Seared pussy is probably a delicacy in some parts of the world.”
Moving my arm, I shoot him a glare, but I can’t hold it for long because he’s grinning down at me playfully. That small lock of hair comes loose again and falls over his forehead. Reaching up to smooth it back, I leave my hand there and gaze up into his blue eyes, letting his soft smile wash over me.
With a sigh, I huff out a tiny laugh. “Want to play it safe and veg out and watch The Princess Bride with me?”
His lips lift at the corners, and he stands, holding out a hand to help me up.
“As you wish.”