Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

My stomach sinks. It’s not going to work. He doesn’t want me enough.

I swallow my disappointment as I start to scoot off the bed. “No, I don’t think I will,” I say tartly. “You treated me like garbage last night, and there’s something you should know by now about us country girls—we can be slow to forgive.”

Noah’s hands pull at the restraints as I slowly bend to retrieve my tank top, giving him one last look at what he’s turning down.

I slip my arms into the shirt and am preparing to pull it over my head when he stops me with a rough “Don’t.”

I lift my eyebrows in challenge, and he lifts his right back. A counterchallenge. “Touch me, princess.”

My stomach falls again, this time with anticipation.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“Put your hands on me.”

It’s as much of an admission as I’m going to get from him, and it’s enough. I set one knee on the bed, then another, kneeling beside him instead of straddling him as I reach for him.

Honestly? I haven’t done this a lot. I mean, I’ve touched guys a couple of times, but it’s usually been just a few quick shy touches as part of rushed foreplay.

This is different.

I turn toward the lamp, thinking to turn it off, but he shakes his head. “I want to watch you.”

Well. Crap.

Better make it good, then.

I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him, velvety soft skin over steel, my thumb brushing over the top of moisture on the tip, spreading it around and smiling slightly when he moans.

Over and over I stroke him, learning that he likes it best when my touch is firm. The quickening in his breathing tells me he likes it when I lean over him, giving him a view of my cleavage.

My grand plan was an epic hand job. An even exchange for last night.

But having him completely at my mercy, hearing him unravel under my touch, makes me bold.

I bend forward even farther until my lips hover just over him. Almost touching, but not quite.

“Jenny.” His hips buck, but I pull back.

“Yes?” I ask, turning my head to meet his eyes.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to—”

“I can stop if you like.” I dip my head lower so my lips brush over his tip.

His eyes are closed now, his chest rising and falling, and I know I’ve won.

I take him in my mouth and he rears off the bed with a stream of profanity.

Here’s another thing I’ve never considered myself particularly skilled at. An awkward thing, the blow job.

But it doesn’t feel awkward with Noah. I feel sexy as hell bent over him, my lips wrapped around him. I even arch my lower back a little, knowing from his groan that he’s enjoying the visual as much as I’m enjoying his taste.

“Fuck,” he says, his hips moving faster to meet my mouth, his feet digging into the mattress as he strains to get closer. “Jenny, you need to stop. Now.”

I don’t stop.

Instead I wrap one hand around the base of him, pumping as my tongue swirls under the underside before I tighten the suction.