Page 14 of Jagger

The shaky breath she sighs rouses me up like gasoline to a flame.

“You can touch, Vida,” I murmur, bringing her hand up to my chest. “Just keep it above the belt, sweetheart. It’s for your own good.”

Lust-hazed eyes meet mine, then drop between us, enraptured by my every move. Small, eager hands quickly steal under my tee, trailing up my rigid torso. Every muscle in my body clenches beneath her unabashed touch. I hiss through my teeth, luring her stare to my face as I reach behind myself and pull my shirt over my head.

Eyes from all around are on us, hoots and hollers exploding over the music. Vida bites down on her bottom lip in realization, the enticing gesture a direct connect my cock.

In one swift movement, I scoop her up in my arms and drop to my knees where she’d been sitting, trapping her between the back of the couch and my hard body. Thick thighs lock around me, the hem of her dress rising up an obscene amount.

Her thighs. They’re shapley and toned, yet so thick and juicy. And the heat between her legs, it’s insanely palpable, so much that I’m practically salivating at the mouth for a taste. Pressing her against me, I keep on with my tease, my hands snaking up her waist for purchase. Jeweled eyes on mine, she grinds into me with the beat, too, completely uninhibited, looking one-hundred percent tantalizing and all too fuckable.

Captive at my mercy.

And fuck me if I don’t want to take her right there, with or without an audience.

It would be so simple…

Push her panties to the side.

Dig into her heat.

Mark her with my stamp.

Jesus Christ.

I feel like a crazed animal. Need her closer. Need to feel her on me, underneath me. Want those plump lips yielding beneath my own. I don’t understand what the fuck is happening right now—except the blind, fierce haze of lust clouding my rationale—but fuck it all to hell.

I’m running wild with it; questions be damned.

Thrusting a hand into her hair, I crash my mouth into hers almost brutally, bubbling a satisfied whimper from deep within her.

One brush.

Another.

And another.

Tongues exploring, teeth nibbling. Her taste is instantly addictive, sweeter than honey with an intoxicating hint of white wine. I’m higher than a fucking kite, drunk on every inch of this delicious woman’s being.

And I want more.

So much fucking more.

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