Taking the Heat (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 3)

“You can say wh

at you’re thinking anytime you want. Are you always this dirty?”

She smiled as if he’d complimented her. “No. Yes. I mean... I have these thoughts. I know all these things, Gabe. I’ve read so much about sex. I get turned on thinking about it. I look at beautiful men and I imagine filthy things. But it’s always a little removed. Wondering what they’d be like in bed. Wondering if I’d actually like it with them. It’s like...”

She frowned and shifted her hands again to find another place. Gabe shivered with pleasure as he waited for her to continue.

“It’s like I want to feel dirty, but I can’t. It’s intellectual. Something I’ve read about. But with you, it’s...real.” That last word seemed to make her feel self-conscious. She winced a little and added, “Maybe.”

“Veronica—”

“No. You don’t need to say anything. I just want to touch you for a little while.” One of her hands slid up his neck to dig into the muscles there. The other slipped over his shoulder and down his chest.

His brain couldn’t quite process the two different kinds of pleasure. One deep and bordering on pain, and the other just the sweep of her fingers over his skin. Combined with the strange seduction of her words, Gabe’s cock was heavy and hard.

He opened his eyes. “Don’t you think you should take your shirt off, too?”

“I’m wearing a dress,” she breathed.

“Let me help with that.” He slid his hands around her waist and up her back to find the zipper. The sound of it was loud as he pulled it down, an unmistakable prelude.

She didn’t stop touching him until he tugged down the modest neckline and eased the dress off her arms. The red fabric pooled around her waist. Her breasts were still covered by the black material of her bra.

Gabe reached for the front clasp of the bra slowly, giving her a chance to stop him. But she only watched his hands as if he were performing a trick. With a twist of his fingers, the bra fell away, and her breasts were naked.

He’d seen her in the dark. Felt her. Tasted her. But here in the lamplight of her apartment, she looked impossibly pretty. Her skin was so pale against the black fabric. Her nipples were pink and small. Her breasts would barely fill his palm.

A tinge of red crept down her chest and she raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“Don’t,” he said.

“I’m not very...” Her words died away when he swept her hand aside and replaced it with his own. He teased her nipple with his thumb until the skin around it went even tighter. Then he ducked his head and sucked her into his mouth.

She was small. He couldn’t tell her that wasn’t true. But it was her and she was perfect. And he loved the way her hips bucked against him when he scraped his teeth over her nipple.

He moved to the other breast and tugged her hips closer, groaning against her skin when she pressed into his cock.

“I...” she gasped. “I want you to fuck me, Gabe. For my birthday.”

Her words wound around his cock like a torturous stroke of a hand. God, yes. Yes, he was going to fuck her. But...

He let her nipple slide from his mouth. “I’m not going to fuck you for your birthday.” He felt the way she stiffened in his arms, as if she were getting ready to protect herself. Gabe circled her wet nipple with his tongue. “I’m going to make you come for your birthday.”

She made a soft noise, a quiet growl of need and frustration. “No. That’s not...that’s not easy for me. I just want to do it. Really do it. I don’t want to worry.”

“Worry about what?” he asked, easing her off his lap. Once she was sitting on the couch, he slid her dress lower on her hips.

“About trying to come,” she whispered, suddenly shy after all the wicked things she’d said.

“You don’t have to try, Veronica. Just relax.”

“I can’t,” she said, but she lifted her hips and let him ease her dress off. Now all she wore were her little black panties. Gabe knelt on the floor between her legs. She shook her head when he pushed the coffee table aside.

“This is one of my favorite things to do in the world,” he said. “You’re not gonna let me have my fun?”

“What is?” she asked, watching him warily, her hands poised as if she didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He pressed a kiss to her thigh, then her hip, then on the front of the black fabric that covered her sex. “This,” he whispered. Then he closed his mouth over her pussy.