Page 50 of Jersey

"Can you get on the counter on your own, or do you want my help?"

I look over my shoulder, frowning at the idea of having to struggle to hop up there.

"Help me," I beg, my voice throaty and filled with desire.

Without hesitation, he wraps his massive hands under my arms and lifts me, stepping back the second I settle on the counter.

"Feet up," he insists. "Open for me."

I swallow a lump in my throat but do as he asks, my leg muscles aching with the position.

I open my mouth to complain, but before I can, he steps in closer, the warmth of his thick cock settling right over my clit.

I look down, my cheek brushing his since he's doing the same thing.

"You make me feel out of control," he says, and I can tell by the hint of annoyance in his voice that it isn't something he's happy about.

"Join the club," I mutter.

He lifts his head, and I allow the scruff on his cheek to scratch my face before pulling back to look into his eyes.

Instead of wrapping his arms around me, he lifts them, palms against the cabinet at my shoulders.

"Tell me if it's too much," he says as his hips move backward.

With the skill of a man who knows exactly what to do in a moment like this, he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock settling exactly where it needs to go. Without warning, he pushes forward slowly, driving his thickness inside of me.

My mouth hangs open on a soundless moan as my heart begins to gallop inside of my chest.

But unlike many other times in my life, the racing pulse has nothing to do with fear that he's going to touch me and everything to do with worrying that he might actually not touch me.

He keeps his hands to himself, but every forward shove of his hips presses them against my body.

"Take this off," I urge, running my hands over his chest to the hem of his t-shirt.

He backs away, the slow withdrawal of his cock making my insides clench in an effort to keep him from leaving.

His eyes darken, but he remains silent as he lifts his shirt over his head before tossing it into the pile of my discarded clothes.

I'm not at all surprised by the expanse of muscles in front of me. I haven't seen one guy at the cabin who didn't look like they spent hours a day in the gym, and a lot of the wondering has been put to rest during my time spent with some of them in the pool during Eli's therapy sessions.

He's out-of-this-world incredible, and I hesitate only for a second before running my fingers over the dips and curves of his well-defined muscles.

His head dips, his mouth meeting the tip of one breast, the warmth and touch taking me so much by surprise that I yelp.

He must read my response as excitement because he doesn't pull back.

He's touching me in my most intimate spots with his cock deep inside of me, his hips barely pulling back before pressing back in. His mouth is wrapped around one nipple, but his hands are still pressed firmly to the cabinet behind me.

He's giving me what I need and somehow also respecting the boundaries I spoke to him about.

I open my mouth to tell him that I could try this with his hands on me, but before I can manage the words, electricity blooms from my center, the threat of my impending orgasm coming to the forefront so strongly it refuses to be ignored.

"Jersey," I whisper, locking eyes with him when he releases my nipple and pulls back enough to look into my eyes.

"Roman," he insists.

"Roman," I whisper just as the first wave of orgasm crashes over me.

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