I should stop this. But I won’t.
He hovered so close yet so far away, maybe rethinking this, maybe trying to talk himself out of it.
Kiss me.
And then as if I’d screamed those two words out loud, Jameson growled and slammed his lips on mine. He kissed me hard, feverishly, as if this feral animal had broken free, had been unleashed inside of him. He gave me it all, and I accepted him with open arms and a greedy body.
He pulled me against him almost frantically, but I willingly leaned in more, shifting so I was now straddling him, both of us on the floor, his back to the couch, mine to the TV. He had his arms wrapped around me, my breasts to his chest, my knees elevating me slightly so I wasn't pressed fully down on him.
I rectified that right away, this surge of power claiming me because I was buzzed and feeling oh so good, and didn’t want this to ever end with Jameson.
I sank down fully on him, our clothes a barrier I desperately wanted gone. But God did I feel every hard inch of him, especially the stiff length tenting his jeans and pressed right up against my extremely wet sex.
He groaned harshly and I felt him lift his hips, and if he couldn’t help himself. He ground that massive erection into me and I gasped, then kissed him with more fervor.
“Lia,” he grunted against my mouth. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long.”
It’s just the booze making him say these things. It’s just the passion and being in the heat of the moment.
I gasped at how good this all felt. Hearing his groan, knowing he felt good because of this, because of me, was like an auditory orgasm all on its own.
“You feel that?” His words were murmured against my mouth, and before I could answer he was kissing me even harder at the same time he lifted his hips again and ground that massive erection against the most sensitive spot on my body. “You feel what you do to me?”
God. Yes.
“I am so fucking hard for you, baby.”
The way he said those words, so crudely, so very brutally, were nothing I’d never envisioned coming out of Jameson’s mouth. He seemed so very masculine in this moment, desire and the primal need to join us overriding everything else.
God, I was so ready for him, for this.
The alcohol had most definitely helped my reservations leave. They’d packed their bags and said, “Bye bitch. You’re on your own.”
“Tell me you want this just as much as I do, just as much as I have.” He had his mouth at my throat, his tongue flicking, licking, his teeth nipping. “Lie to me if you have to.”
God, I wouldn’t have to lie. Not about this. Not about him.
“I want this, Jameson.” I felt drunker than I was, the feeling of floating, of being high, as if this were an out of body experience, moving through me like a derailed train.
He swallowed, the sound amplified in the room, and then was moving his hands between our bodies and going for the button and fly of his jeans all the while kissing me like he was drowning and I was his life raft.
The kiss was sloppy, hectic, filled with passion, but I didn’t care how uncoordinated we both were as we started tearing at our clothing. I just wanted this moment with Jameson no matter what. My heart was in my throat, sweat beading between my breasts, and my anticipation and nervousness was so strong I felt dizzy from it all.
“I need you--”
“I want you--”
He groaned at my words. I moaned at his. And the way we were continuing to get the clothes out of the way that separated us.
I pulled back so I could get my shirt up and over my head. My gaze was locked on him as he did the same. Then my bra. I stood and shucked off my pants and underwear; Jameson doing the same, my mouth drying when the thick, long length of him was revealed.
Oh. God. He’s huge.
My nipples were so hard they ached.
He was masculine with hard lines, sharp edges, and defined muscle.
I opened my mouth to say something--anything--maybe beg for this, or sputter out unintelligible words. But before a word could leave my lips, he was on the couch and pulling me back down on his lap. I straddled him once more, his hand sliding up my chest, over my collarbone, and then he was curling his fingers around the side of my throat, keeping me in place as he kissed me hard and possessively.
His body was so hard where mine was soft, his groans deep where mine were feminine.
But we were both so damn aroused, the same intensity in our touches and kisses.