It Started with a Kiss

“Oh, yeah?” he calls from the bedroom. Then the sound of his voice is closer. “What have you been thinking about the kitchen?”

“The cold, stone counter and what that must feel like against a heated body—the contrast and how my body would react.”

I peek up to see him ready to take no prisoners, except me. I’m scooped up before I can fight it. Not that I would, but he tilts me down, and I leave the laptop behind before I’m carried into the kitchen. Setting my feet on the floor, he asks, “Which counter? Be specific.”

His tone isn’t playful. Jackson’s damp hair hangs over his forehead, and now that I’m so much closer, his skin has a slight glisten as if he never got around to drying off. Muscles flexed and an intensity darkens his eyes.

“I, uh, um. . .” I stammer under his stare, never felt like prey to a hunter before until now. Holy damn, he’s the sexiest man alive.

“Choose, or I choose, Marlow.”

Standing naked before him, I point since my voice seems to be failing me. He keeps the place spotless, so any counter will do.

“Move to the counter and turn around. I want to see you. All of you,” he says.

The game’s turned serious. It’s not that I’m not turned on. It’s that I don’t think I’ve ever been commanded to perform for a man before. So hot. I move a few feet, keeping my eyes locked on his, and then spin nice and slow. When our eyes meet again, I ask, “Do you approve?”

Running his thumb over his bottom lip, he says, “What do you think?”

My gaze dips to his erection and then back up again. I turn around, rest my elbows on the counter, and slowly lean forward. It’s cold. Freezing, in fact. This started as a tease, more of a threat to his patience and ability to resist what I bring to the table . . . or should I say, counter.

My breathing has become irregular, and the need to be touched is rising inside. This scenario is quickly turning into one of my greatest fantasies.

Going all the way, I rest my breasts on the stone and keep my focus forward. My lids dip closed as I remain like this for his viewing pleasure. The heat of his presence starts to warm my backside, but he doesn’t touch me. With anticipation eating at my patience, I finally twist my head to the side to see him. “What are you doing, Jackson?”

“Enjoying the view.”

Turned on and annoyed, I start to push up, but my back is met with the palm of his hand. He leans over me, finally giving me the feel of his body against mine. He kisses my spine and then says, “I thought you liked to play games?”

“Only if I win.”

Cold air sweeps between us as he takes a step back, and he says, “Turn around.”

With a huff, I complain, “So demanding.” When I do as I’m told, I’m lifted immediately and set on the counter I was just bent over. The shock of cold shoots through me as his hands part my legs. “Relax, baby.”

His mouth starts on my inner thigh, and then he works his way higher until his tongue is fucking my center. And then my phone buzzes on the counter next to my arm, and we both freeze. “Damn,” I say, breathless and already so close even though he just got started.

Just as I pull his head back to me, I make the mistake of glancing over.

“Ignore it,” he says, dipping forward again and swiping his tongue between my lips. His hand comes up and squeezes my breast and then the other.

Closing my eyes, I focus on his hands and the feel of him kissing my clit. But after a few seconds, I start to sit up, saying, “I’m sor—Oh, my God!” The pressure is so intense that my thoughts muddle, and his mouth on me becomes my only reality.

Relentless, he kisses and licks, thrusts with his tongue, and sucks until I lose control, my fingers weaving into his hair and tugging as an orgasm rips through me. “Jackson, oh, God. Yes.”

Everything is given, but he takes even more as I lie back on the counter, my body now jelly. Splayed across the stone, I finally have enough energy to open my eyes. Coming around to the other side of me, he kisses me upside down and then says, “I won.”

As he walks back toward the bedroom, I turn to watch because damn, he’s fine. “I could argue otherwise.”

He chuckles as he leaves from view. “For the record,” I say loud enough for him to hear, “I wasn’t even in the mood for sex until you walked out here in that towel.”

“I’ll make sure to wear them more often then.”