Not My Romeo (The Game Changers 1)

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I’ll die if you do.”

“Can’t have that,” he rumbles against my neck.

His fingers are skilled, slick with my wetness as he parts my folds and delves inside, dipping in with a fast stroke before circling my bud, his thigh muscles tightening under me as he strains for better access. “Undo your blouse.” His tone is gruff, and I can’t get the buttons free fast enough, my hands shaking as I slide the buttons through the slits and tug the end of the shirt free from the waistband of my skirt. He never stops that maddening touch, fingering me one heart-stopping second, then back to circling. Sharp prickles of pleasure build at the base of my spine, pushing me higher until I’m gasping for breath. Orgasms are rare and precious to me, requiring work and effort that my past lovers never took the time for.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, staring up at me.

I laugh, bemused that he’d think so. I whip my shirt off, and his mouth parts. He stares at my barely there leather bra. “How the hell am I supposed to not fuck you?”

His need for me arouses me more, makes me brazen as I undo the front clasp on the delicate demicup bra, my breasts tingling at his gaze.

“I’ve only got one good hand, and it’s on your pussy. Come closer.” He bites his bottom lip.

“Like this?” I ease up until I’m on my knees, hovering over him.

“Closer.”

I scoot in, not wanting his hand off me, but he knows what I want and never stops. His head arches up, and his mouth takes a nipple, his tongue flicking against my areola, the sharp edges of his teeth scraping against my sensitized skin. The scruff on his jaw brushes against me, prickling. My hands clasp his hair, hanging on to him.

I hadn’t planned on this. I really didn’t mean for this to go so far . . .

“Don’t let your head roam; stay with me,” he says, moving to the other nipple and sucking hard, taking as much skin in his mouth as will fit.

It pricks in a delicious way that surprises me and feels so good, the way he wants me, desire flushing his cheeks.

He’s got two fingers deep inside me, soft and easy, and I arch back, giving him more access. They flutter inside me, caressing against one place, and I jerk and tense at the new rocket of heat that spikes over me.

“G-spot. Ride my hand.” Sweat beads on his temples, his face tight with concentration.

“Am I hurting you?” I gasp out. I think back to Gideon’s words.

“No, no, no, don’t stop. Shoulder be damned, I’m going to fuck you; I’m going to bend you over this couch after you come.”

I picture it in my head, his big body behind me, hands digging into my hips. “Keep talking.”

He huffs out a surprised laugh. “Elena, where have you been all my life?”

“New York, then Daisy,” I murmur. “Tell me more, Jack.”

His tawny eyes gleam at me. Wolf. “More what?”

“Don’t play the dumb jock. Dirty talk, Jack, now.”

He groans and moves his left hand then, the injured one, where it was resting by his side. He runs it down my chest, his fingers closing around my nipples and plucking them.

“Jack . . .”

He wraps his hand around my waist and grips me tight. “I’m going to fuck you against the wall, too, Elena. With your ass in my hands and your feet digging into my back. We didn’t do that yet. On the ride here, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh, oh . . .

My heart shudders in my chest. How can I ever handle a man like this? He’s raw and hot and primitive. I tremble and catch a reflection of us in the glass of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’m on top of him, my hair trailing down my back, my hands in his hair. I look . . . decadent and almost beautiful.

“Jack . . .”

“Baby, please come. I need to fuck you,” he rumbles.

Be mine, I think he says, but I’m not sure, and that can’t be right, because I know what this is. It’s just sex. It’s just two people who want the same thing, and damn, why haven’t we been doing this nonstop since the moment we met?

Because he is who he is, and you are who you are—

“Elena, stay with me. Me and you, right now.”

He’s shoving his gym shorts down, his thick length popping out, long and hard and veiny, the mushroom head flushed and tight, a bead of wetness there. He grips my hips and slides me against him, a long guttural growl coming from him as our flesh meets. I grind against him.

“Come.” His fingers play with me, circling, the silky feel of his velvety skin skimming my folds. He’s almost inside me, if I move just a little, and I’m past all reason, my mind full of him, and his touch has my body climbing and searching, yearning, until I’m right there so fast that it takes me by surprise. The pleasure barrels into me like a train, and I tremble as it takes over and washes over me, covering me with vibrating sensation. The universe moves, and I’m powerless in its wake and ripples. I swivel on him, shuddering, making him slick, riding it out.