The Dangerous Jacob Wilde

The one word, so filled with need, almost took him to his knees. He pushed up the sweatshirt, bent to her, sucked at her nipples, pressed them against the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

She tasted of cream and honey.

“You are so beautiful,” he said thickly. “So very beautiful …”

His thumbs rolled over her nipples. She moaned; he watched her face as he caressed her, saw her eyes go dark with pleasure.

Sweat beaded his forehead as he tugged her sweatshirt over her head and tossed it aside.

He could see her breasts more clearly now. They were high, rounded, just right for his mouth and his hands.

He kissed them. The curves, the slopes, the apricot nipples. He couldn’t get enough of their silky feel, their delicate flavor; he couldn’t get enough of watching her face as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm from this, just from this.

She began undoing the buttons of his shirt. He helped her. Then he swore softly and the remaining buttons went flying.

His shirt landed on the floor, and she went into his arms.

Skin against skin. Heat against heat.

He knew he couldn’t last much longer.

He drew back. Hooked his thumbs into the sides of her sweatpants, pushed them down …

And went still.

She was wearing panties.

White cotton this time, not lace. They were simple, innocent, dotted with tiny blue flowers.

An equally tiny blue bow rode just below each hip bone.

Jake went to his knees.

Kissed her belly. Her navel. The little blue bows.

And drew the panties down, down, down.

They pooled at her ankles. He cupped her hips with his hands. Brought his face closer.

She gasped.

“Wait,” she said in a shaky whisper. “Really, I don’t think—”

He put his mouth against her, at the apex of her thighs. Her dark curls were silken against his lips.

“Open for me,” he said thickly, and she shifted her legs, shifted again …

And screamed in ecstasy when he found her with his mouth and tongue.

She tasted of passion and of woman, and when he licked at her, her cries rose into the stillness of the morning.

Jake got to his feet, kicked off his boots and jeans and took her down onto the bed with him.

He caught a fistful of her hair. Bent to her. Kissed her. He couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t get enough of that soft, sweet mouth.

Her hands were on him.

Cool. Soft. They swept over his back, his chest; they framed his face as she lifted herself to him and kissed him.