Southern Attraction (Southern Heart 3)

“Missed you,” he repeats.

I snake my hands under his arms and grip his strong muscular back. My fingers tingle as they skim over the taut muscles of his back. He moans and I’m not sure if it’s the kiss, my hands on him, or the fact that I just lifted my hips, causing friction. My body’s reaction to him is primal. I know his reasoning for holding off, but I need him. At this point that’s what it is: actual need, to feel all of him. To be joined with him in the most intimate way.

“More,” I whisper, my lips next to his ear. He rolls his hips and a mumbled “Yes” falls from my lips.

His lips leave mine and I crack my eyes open to find him staring down at me. My heart stutters at the look in his eyes. His steady, lust-filled gaze bores into my eyes with silent question. My answer is to lift my hips and grind against his erection.

“Fuck,” he mutters, rocking into me once more.

“Don’t stop,” I beg him. This is more than he’s given me and I’m taking it; if begging is what I have to do, I’m not above that.

Sitting up, he rests on his knees and pulls me up with him, his eyes never leaving mine as he slowly unbuttons my shirt. I quickly pull my arms from the sleeves when he’s done and toss it on the floor. Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra, but before I can discard it, his hands cover mine. I start to protest, thinking he’s trying to stop me, but his lips on my bare shoulder halt the words in my throat. Slowly, painfully slow, he kisses from my shoulder all the way down my arm as he pulls the strap down. One side off, he starts the process all over again with the other side. I’m breathing heavily, which I know he can see from the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I’ve never been this turned on before in my entire life. Bra discarded, my nipples are painfully hard, begging for him.

“Lie back.” His voice is gruff with want.

I waste no time resting back on the softness of the mattress, his heated gaze devouring me. I’m just about to beg again when his heads dips and he takes a nipple into his mouth. My entire body tingles at the electricity of his touch as he works one and then the other over with his mouth, tongue, and teeth.

“Mike.” I want to tell him I need more, want more, but his name is all I can manage as sparks of desire zip through me with every nip of his teeth. As if he understands my simple plea, he rocks his hips into mine. My legs clamp around his waist, holding him to me.

His lips release me and travel up the column of my neck, landing at my ear. He nips and bites before I feel his hot breath and the low rumble of his southern drawl. “Come for me, darlin.’ I want to watch as you fall apart in my arms.” His words are followed by a constant steady rhythm of his hips as he presses his jean-covered erection against me. From the waist down, we’re both clothed, but my body doesn’t seem to mind as I lift into his movement, causing more friction.

His lips are on my neck, kissing, licking and nipping as he whispers in my ear. “Feel what you do to me?” Thrust. “This is all you, beautiful.” Thrust. “I missed you, Jamie. I need to hear you. I need it,” he pants as he continues to move his hips to a silent beat only he can hear. “I need you.” There’s so much conviction in his voice, the desire alone could’ve sent me flying over the cliff of ecstasy.

Mike settles beside me, kissing my neck and working his way toward my lips.

“You make me feel like a teenager,” he chuckles.

“Hmm, so what do you think our teenage selves would do in this situation?” I trace the planes of his abs.

“More than likely it would be time to take you home. I’d pray all the way that your daddy can’t tell that I just had my hands and mouth all over you.” He kisses me softly.

“Maybe,” I say, not committing.

“Maybe? You got one better?” he asks as he traces small circles on my hip.

“I do actually, but I’d rather show you.” Before he has a chance to protest, I push him back on the bed and straddle his hips.

His hands rest on my thighs. “I think I like this version much better,” he says as one hand slowly runs up my stomach, which quivers at his touch. He doesn’t stop until he has a breast in his hand, as if he’s feeling the weight. He runs the rough pad of his thumb over my nipple and I throw my head back at the sensation, until I remember this is my story to play out. Lifting my head, I circle my hips, and his eyes close. He drops the hand that’s caressing my breast to my thighs and his grip tightens.

When I move to slide down, his eyes pop open. He doesn’t say a word; instead those blue eyes watch me, curious. Sitting on his thighs, my hands find their way to the waist of his jeans. Not breaking eye contact, I release the button and slowly pull the zipper down. Moving off his thighs, I kneel beside him.

“Lift.” The word is a whisper but he still hears me. He lifts his hips and I tug his jeans down so he can kick them all the way off. Still he says nothing, just rests his hand on my hip. I hold his stare as my hand slowly works up to his erection. I cup him in my hand and heat blazes in his eyes.

“I can’t resist you.” He says it like it’s actually causing him pain.

I don’t comment, just offer him a shy smile before finally breaking eye contact and taking in the man before me. My hand is caressing his erection through his boxer briefs. I know he’s affected from the sound of his breathing, and I suddenly have this all-consuming need to give him the same pleasure he’s given me. I know him well enough to know he would never ask or initiate this. He has this theory in his head that if we have sex I’ll be his and he won’t be able to walk away. Considering we live in different states, I’m not sure how that would work out for us.

I try not to think about what we could or couldn’t be. Instead, I focus on the here and now. The fact that I want to bring him pleasure. Make him come undone from my touch, just like he did for me.

Cautiously, I slip my hand under the waistband of his boxer briefs. As soon as I wrap it around his length, I feel him grow even harder. I didn’t think that was possible. I take my time just enjoying the feel of his velvety soft skin in the palm of my hand.

“Jamie,” he says huskily, burying his hand in my hair.

Looking up, I find him watching my hand as I stroke him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to do this,” I assure him.

“I don’t know what I’ve done to earn this spot in your life, here with you like this, but I’ll never forget a single second of the time I’ve been able to spend with you.”