“So?” Jesse is here, on top of me! Holding me down by my wrists on the bed.
“How do you want to play, Cassie Robichaud?”
I had a heady déjà vu from earlier in the afternoon when Angela asked Mark the same question.
“How do you want to play?” I was feeling out of my league all of a sudden. My heart thumped against my chest. I felt nausea rise. He lowered his groin until he had me fully pinned, his erection hard against my inner thigh. It was unmistakably clear what this was doing to him, for him.
“I’m happy to do anything with you, Jesse. But … I wasn’t looking for some kind of fantasy scenario with you.”
“I know it,” he said, collapsing on his elbow, his eyes now searching and warm, his hands smoothing back my hair. “We don’t have to do anything weird … I’m happy to just … neck.”
It was the way he said it—neck—that caused me to erupt into a fit of giggles. And that made him laugh too.
“Y’all wanna just neck with me?” I said, mimicking his Cajun accent. “Okay, let’s just neck.”
Oh, this was the mouth I remembered, the hungry, searching mouth. He bent to kiss me, to shut me up, really, his palm cradling my head, his fingers entwined in my hair. The other hand slowly unbuttoned my blouse, landing warmly between my breasts, then made its agonizing way down, undoing the buttons of my jeans, sliding them off along with my panties.
“All gone,” he said, slipping a hand underneath me to unclasp my bra, flinging it across the room.
He stood up next to the bed to remove his jeans, then his boxers, making it immediately apparent how much this was turning him on. He took my hand and guided me to him.
“Touch my cock, Cassie,” he whispered. “Say it.”
It was so hard, so smooth.
“Say what?” I said, running my hand up and down his cock.
“Say you want my cock inside of your beautiful pussy,” he murmured, his eyes flashing under my inexpert touch.
I’d never seen him totally naked before, but here he stood over me, all muscles and sinew, tattoos and desire, and he knew he had me, this shameless, potent man.
“What do you want, baby?” he asked.
“I want you inside of me, now,” I begged.
“You want me to fuck you, Cassie?”
“Yes, Jesse.”
“Say it.”
“Fuck me,” I muttered.
“Say, I want you to fuck me hard, Jesse.”
I closed my eyes, my whole body feeling an incredible want, as he pressed my knees apart into the mattress.
“Mmm, look at you and your pretty little pussy,” he drawled. “What’s a guy gotta do to make that his?”
“You know,” I said, wishing sexier words came to me more easily. That was something I could do with Jesse, learn to let go more, be freer …
“Say it, Cassie.”
“Fuck me, Jesse. I want you to fuck me hard …” I said, almost delirious with want.
He bent over the foot of the bed, his mouth moving up my leg to the curve of my inner thigh, his tongue tickling the smooth groove where my tender skin met the line of soft down. God he was teasing me. He was driving me crazy.
“Jesse, fuck me,” I demanded, as his hand caressed my thigh, his thumb slicking down my folds, merely fluttering over my clitoris. The ache becoming too much to bear, my hips began to rock to make him touch where I needed touching, to fuck where I needed fucking. But he merely let a lazy finger grace the opening, finding me so wet I gasped, and I arched fiercely now towards him, never hungrier.