Jason sets me upright, but by no means does he let me go. We move as one as he walks me backward, tilting my face up with a less-than-gentle hand. “I’d like to do a lot of things right now, Naomi. Like ask if you were sent to drive me fucking crazy. Or go back to the parade and fight every man who had a chance to see you naked before me—the guy who’s been beating off thinking about your tits for a month. Yeah, I’d like to do a lot of shit right about now.”
“Why don’t you?”
He shoves our mouths together but doesn’t kiss me. Just breathes, breathes, bares his teeth. “Because you’re wet for me, aren’t you? Saw you back on that road. Crossing your thighs and arching your back for me. You finally going to let me throw you up on this cock and bounce you on it until you get vocal fry?”
“Jason, you can’t just…” My words are muffled by his hard mouth and they’re followed by a moan as his hands circle my waist, his thumbs massaging the indent of my belly button. “You haven’t kissed me yet. There’s an order to these things and I’m confused enough—”
“Come on then, beauty queen,” Jason grates. “Taste me.”
Our lips brush.
I’m instantly swept up. Mentally and physically. It happens so fast.
One second, my feet are on the ground and the next, my toes are even with Jason’s knees. It’s the feeling of being strapped into a roller coaster, braced on all sides—safe—with my stomach missing in action. Carried away in a flutter of wings. If I had any delusions that I’d be the one to issue this kiss, that notion dissolves faster than my journey off the ground. Into Jason’s hold, up against his chest with a big hand fisted in my hair, the opposite arm supporting my backside, keeping me indecently close.
A shudder rolls through him. “Kissing you fucks me up worst of all, baby. Permanently.” He backs me up a pace, settling me against the wall, pressing our foreheads together. “Christ. Look at you. I’m going to do it anyway.”
His mouth slants over mine before I finish speaking, his tongue raiding my mouth in a claiming stroke. There’s nothing polite or reserved about the way Jason kisses me. It’s earthy. Messy. He’s hungry and my femininity is his dinner. He feasts on it with purposeful drives of his tongue, the turning of his head in a dance with mine so our mouths are forced to reposition, mate again, sink into a rhythm, stop and do it all over. A growl hovers in his throat as we move, straining closer with every passing second, seeking relief for the pressure built by the joining of tongues, the tight pressing of bodies. Panting. We break only to pant, before joining together with breath sucked in through noses and moans for each other’s ears alone.
My mouth has never been this open. I’ve never wanted to open it so wide and allow so many courtesies. Jason’s hand has left my hair and met the second one at my backside, molding the flesh there without asking permission. And he should. He should ask permission. I know that. But I’m moaning into his mouth and my own fingertips are scraping through his short hair, pulling his face closer for more of the glorious ravishing he’s giving me—and my demanding body language is nothing if not a resounding yes, please, do whatever you want to me.
“Haven’t gotten my fill of kissing this sweet mouth by a long shot.” He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, slowly letting it go. “While I’m trying to do the impossible, tell me what’s next up on the so-called order of things.”
“I don’t keep a list,” I gasp as his teeth rake my neck. “But there must b-be a proper progression.”
“Why don’t I start by touching you everywhere those butterflies are painted?” His expression is sexual, challenging. “Then we’ll move on to that pretty place they’re not.”
“How do you know?” The darkness, the drinks, the freedom I experienced during the parade has made me bold. It could just be Jason. He’s goaded me into surprising myself since I showed up on his doorstep. “Maybe they’re everywhere.”
A warning ticks in his eye. “Push me a little more and I’ll have no choice but to find out.”
Adrenaline is spinning inside me like the wheel on a paddle boat, faster and faster. Jason’s hands give my backside a final, rough squeeze, then circle around to my belly, sliding higher and stopping just beneath my breasts. I want to be touched all over and I don’t want to wait anymore. The order of things is pointless when it comes to this man. He’ll keep me safe no matter what, won’t he? I might feel like I’m about to jump off a cliff, but the confidence I have in him is like wings attached to my back.