Page 91 of Jett

“You thought I was just teasing you?”

“You tease me even when you don’t mean to.” His hand stays on my hip, his fingers splayed. If he moved them a few inches back, he’d be cupping my bare cheeks.

His thumb lightly rests along the crease of my hip and he groans as he gently strokes me there. I recognize the pent-up frustration in that sound, hear his breathing slow down. He rests his forehead against mine again.

“Fuck, Cari.”

I wish he would.

I breathe, and wait with bated breath, desperate for him to feel me between my legs, where I’ve had a dull ache for weeks. My heart jackhammers in my chest and my knees threaten to collapse.

We both hiss, swallowing each other’s breaths. My lips part, I feel as if I’m going to come already and he hasn’t even touched me in my most intimate place.

“May I—” he rasps.

“Yes … do it…please.” It’s a tortured plea. I don’t even know what he wants, but I’m all for it. I sigh when his hand moves and he cups me between my legs. I sigh with relief. To be touched there, by him, feels like a small release.

“Fuck. You’re soaking.”

My breaths come fast and short. He tilts his head away, watching my reaction as he thumbs my clit. I groan in ecstasy as he slips in a finger, then another, turning me into a boneless, writhing wreck. I sink against the bookcase, throwing my head back, lost in the feeling. “Oh, oh, oh,” I moan.

His fingers piston in and out.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs.

“For you.”

It’s like I’ve poured gasoline over a fire, and his other hand slips below the hem of my dress, hitching it up and folding it entirely around my waist. He rubs my clit with his thumb and with his other hand slips in a third finger. I finally feel the fullness I’ve been craving.

Inside, I unravel.

Just when I can’t take it anymore, he kisses me, lifting his hands to cup my face. I smell my arousal on him. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and he takes control, kissing me hard and feverishly, like a feral beast who can’t be satiated.

My body jerks to his touch. I want his hands down below, not on my face. When I shake my head, hoping he’ll get the message, he falls to his knees and plants his face between my legs. He nudges my knees wider with his elbows, and feasts on me like a man who hasn’t eaten in days. His mouth, tongue, lips, and fingers explore my swollen folds, making me shudder with an intensity I can’t contain.

“I’m going to … I’m going to … come …” I pant out, so close to the edge.

“No.” He stands up, his face shiny. He kisses me again, and I taste myself. For a fleeting moment I recoil, but he’s so masterful, so in control, that I lose myself in another hungry kiss. He pulls away, wags his finger at me. “Don’t you dare come yet.”

“But I can’t—”

Before I can say anything, he grabs me gently by the wrist and pulls me along with him to go up the stairs.

“We can’t … we can’t ... Brooke is sleeping,” I protest, thinking he’s heading toward my room. But at the top of the stairs he takes a different turn.

He pushes the door open, and I stumble inside. Into his bedroom. All I see is a supersize bed, black-and-gray silk sheets, and warm light from a bedside lamp. He pushes me up against the door and presses his hardness against me, caging me in again.

“Do you want this?” he rasps, gazing at me like an animal.

I want this more than anything. “Y-yes.”

That’s all it takes. His mouth crushes against mine. Every cell in my body sizzles. We kiss as though we’ve been starved for one another for years. This is certainly true for me. Jett growls as he explores my mouth with his tongue.

He swiftly turns me around and unzips me, pulling the dress down my shoulders and yanking it to the floor. Then he unhooks my bra, and I instinctively cover my breasts with my hands.

“Don’t be shy,” he husks, dropping a sloppy wet kiss on my shoulder. He sucks my skin and I bite back a moan. This is heavenly. He’s up to something, and as I’m about to turn around to look, his hands lift mine off my breasts and I feel the wet tip of his cock against my back. He holds my breasts, tweaking and kneading, then moves one hand below, using it to slide his shaft along my butt cheeks.

“Fucking Christ. You feel so fucking good.” He doesn’t even sound like the man I work for. He sounds like a dirty, sexy monster. I buck against him, wishing he would fill me. Wishing he would fuck me hard. But he promptly stops, and holding my hand, leads me to the bed.

---