Light Her Fire (Private Pleasures 2)

“Nobody,” she whispered. “Only you.”

“I could spend days licking that honey, until you come against my tongue so hard I taste nothing but you for a week.”

A tremble started somewhere near her ankles and shivered up her body. “Yes—”

“But that’s not going to happen,” he cut her off. “Not after the show you put on during your jog this afternoon. Not after what you did to me tonight.” The crinkle of a foil wrapper reached her ears, setting off another series of shivers. “You’ve stripped away all my patience. I have to be inside you.”

He reached under her and squeezed her backside, and then let his long fingers sweep between her cheeks. She gasped, and then whimpered when he came within striking distance of the throbbing cluster of nerves clamoring for his attention. “Brace yourself, Bluelick. It’s time.”

And then he took her, filled her, in one swift, nearly brutal thrust. A profoundly thankful sound escaped from somewhere deep within her…possibly her soul. She came up onto her elbows in an instinctive effort to change the angle and get more control. Wasted energy, as it turned out, because simple physics dictated 100 percent of the control resided with the taller, stronger, better-leveraged force opposing her. All she could do was spread her palms on the butcher block and try to hold on while he rocked her over the smooth surface and her body spasmed.

He planted one hand next to her shoulder. His other arm curved under her hips, and then he was over her, moving inside her, growling something in her ear, but she couldn’t really make out his words because it was too noisy in her kitchen. Entirely her fault, given she was the source of the noise, but still, she put the ultimate blame on him because he jostled a cry out of her overtaxed lungs with every powerful thrust.

His wide palm slid down her abdomen, closing in on the only neglected part of her. Yes. Yes. Mother of God, yes. She tightened her legs, flexed her hips, and arched up to meet him.

He worked his hand lower, v-ing his index and middle fingers around the place where their bodies joined, lining his hard, calloused palm up with the spot just above the point of connection. Jolts of pleasure surged through her. Addicted, she rubbed herself against him with abandon. Up until this moment she’d pretty much been a passenger on this ride, but now she asserted a rhythm of her own.

“That’s right. Chase it. Chase it hard.”

“I’m trying…”

“You want to come like this, with me inside you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you’ve got five seconds.”

Five seconds? Was he serious?

“Or what?”

“I pull out and play with you some more. You’re coming first. If that means I have to get you closer before I give you my cock again, so be it.”

No. She’d lose her mind. She abandoned rhythm and resorted to a bucking, squirming frenzy. His thrusts frustrated her now, because a withdrawal inevitably followed, and the move pulled her momentarily off course every single time.

“Five…”

Sweat, or maybe tears, stung her eyes. She closed them and moved faster.

“Four…”

“Please, Josh. Don’t leave me…please—”

“Three. Don’t waste your breath begging. Get to work.”

The next instant, begging became out of the question anyway, because her breath backed up in her lungs. He thrust deep and, at the same time, used those magic fingers to tease her unspeakably sensitive clit. Her body raged for release.

“Two…”

Need twisted higher and tighter, so agonizingly tight it threatened to leave some sort of permanent scar. She cried out—for more or for mercy, she really didn’t know.

“One.”

His last thrust rocked her hips so high her toes pointed to the ceiling, and sensations rushed up from a place deep within herself she’d never dared visit before. From behind some dam she barely knew existed because it had grown slowly, over a decade, insidiously constructed of self-doubt and insecurity and, yes, a mortar of disappointment. The useless thing crumbled under an onslaught of pleasure so powerful and all-consuming, she rode the torrent with a cry of pure joy and relief.

And when Josh grasped her hips with both hands, thrust fast, and then collapsed on top of her with a shuddering groan, the rest of her uncertainty washed away. There was no Enter at Your Own Risk sign tattooed across her private parts. No fundamental flaw or inherent defect. Nothing had dried up and blown away from lack of use. Everything appeared to be in perfect…no, make that exquisite…working order.

“Christ, you damn near killed me, Bluelick.” Josh’s words ruffled the hair at her temple.