So Wright (The Wrights 1)

By the time they stood under the spray together, she wanted him inside her. But Jack was more interested in the slow build. He kissed her everywhere. His hands roamed her body before gripping her ass and pulling her against his erection.

She reached between them and stroked him. He was so hard, he barely fit in her hand. And she was so ready.

Miranda tore the condom package with her teeth and rolled it on. A full-body shudder rocked him. But instead of driving into her, he kissed his way down her body, pausing to suck and nip at her breasts. And as her need grew, Miranda sensed a very deliberate power shift. Jack might have taken some coaxing to get here, but he was clearly a very skilled, very confident lover. He continued to trail kisses down her belly until he was on his knees. He cupped his hand behind her knee and lifted her leg over his shoulder.

Before Miranda could draw another breath, his mouth covered her. The sudden pressure radiated through her pelvis. Pleasure rocketed up her spine, arching her back, pushing a sound of surprise from her throat.

Then his mouth moved, and lust surged through her body. Thrummed in her blood. Shocked her circuits.

“Fuck.” She grabbed hold of a ledge in the shower with one hand and drove the other into his hair.

He growled in approval, tightened his hand on her thigh and pushed it wider. Moved in deeper. He kissed and licked and sucked, layering pleasure upon pleasure. Miranda’s body bowed. Her hand fisted in his hair. Her mouth dropped open. She could taste the ecstasy just out of reach. But Jack was in no hurry. The hand on her thigh moved between her legs. His fingers pushed inside her. And goddamn, that was good. But she couldn’t tell him. Her throat was locked up.

She managed a weak “Jack” and a few more choice curses. And even though he’d professed patience, she hadn’t expected any. Men were good at talking the talk, but once she got them into bed, they rushed. Some had no patience for foreplay. Some clumsily attempted to please her—for all of two minutes.

But this man had the kind of single-minded focus that killed brain cells. She felt them pop and sizzle as his fingers penetrated and stretched. As his tongue teased and tasted, his other hand slid up her belly, past her ribs, and covered one breast. A solid squeeze blended with a rolling growl. His fingers found her nipple. His lips found her clit.

“Fuck.” She shivered as the orgasm coiled deep in her body. “Ah God, Jack.”

The wave crested, then hung there, promising delirious ecstasy. Miranda released the ledge, drove her other hand into his hair, and cradled his head in both hands. With a groan of pleasure, Jack finally let go, gripping her ass and pulling her in, and ate at her like he was starving.

The orgasm hit like a lightning strike, quick and hard, driving pleasure deep and sharp. Light exploded behind her eyes, frying her brain. Her muscles tensed, released, coiled again. Jack was a thundering summer storm, driving shock wave after shock wave of pleasure through her body.

Just as the rioting in her body calmed, Jack stood. The sudden shift made Miranda dizzy. When she tried to open her eyes, the shower spun. She felt the water pelting her skin. The humidity steaming the enclosure. Her breaths, coming fast and shallow. The thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.

Jack held on to her thigh as he stood. He hooked it at his hip and pushed her against the shower wall. The tiles snapped cold against her skin. He kissed her, hard and deep, then pulled away to look into her eyes. His gaze was sharp and hot, holding hers with purpose as he rocked his hips and worked himself inside her. Steady, measured thrusts buried his cock deeper, inch by inch. His gaze seemed to convey a deliberate, confident conquest.

Miranda relaxed against the wall and relished the feeling of him driving deeper, deeper, deeper. The pressure building, building, building. Tightening her throat. Flooding her chest. Just when she didn’t think he could get any deeper, Jack hooked his other hand around her free thigh, pulling her off her feet and locking her against the wall. His hips lunged forward, thrusting with the full power of well-developed glutes. Working himself inside her until he was imbedded. Until she felt completely controlled. Possessed. Owned.

All in a good way. Good both mentally and physically. She felt both light and heavy. Sated and hungry. Dizzy and grounded.

Jack stilled, his only movement the rise and fall of his chest with quick breaths. Head tilted down, water streamed over his head, down his face, collecting on long eyelashes and dripping off his nose. “Are you okay?”

His question didn’t immediately register. Miranda had to play it over and over in her mind to make sense of it. Only when he lifted his head and looked into her eyes did it click. She could see the fire raging inside him. His barely contained need. She couldn’t remember ever being so acutely aware of the here and now. Had never experienced a moment so vivid. So clear. So intense.

Instead of answering, she took his face in both hands and kissed him. Long and deep. Wet and wild. Pulling away only long enough to place her order. “Fuck me.”

Something hot flashed in his eyes. Something a little wicked. A little wild. He tightened his grip on her thighs and pulled her hips into him as he thrust. Their pelvises met with a solid, definitive slap, and pleasure instantly whipped through her.

“Yes.” She curved one hand around the back of his neck, slid the other into his hair.

He dropped his forehead to hers. Pulled out of her so slowly, she could feel every long, thick inch of him retreating until just the tip of his cock remained. She whimpered at the sensation of emptiness. Actually fucking whimpered.

She would have been embarrassed, but he rocked his hips forward and filled her with a hard, quick thrust, driving a sound of surprise and pleasure from her throat.

His head lifted, and he looked directly into her eyes. Searching. Seeing. “You feel so fucking good.”

His hair was slicked back from his face, water droplets glistening on his eyelashes, rivulets streaming over his wide shoulders, down his hard chest. His gaze was dark with lust. His muscles bunching beneath his skin. His fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as he forced her legs even wider. And began to move again.

His thrusts were full, deep, measured, and controlled. So damn controlled. He had her trapped against the wall. He owned all the power now. How fast or slow he moved. How deep or shallow he thrust. Where he put his mouth. What he did with his hands.

Right now, he owned her.

“Faster. More.” Miranda had one arm hooked around his neck, the other over his shoulder, her nails in his back. “Please.”

A smile flickered over his mouth. Triumph? Accomplishment? Pride? She couldn’t nail it down before it was gone, melted into the molten heat between them.

“Patience.” His voice was deep and raspy. “And passion. That’s what I promised.”