Page 61 of The Jilted Lovers Club
“I want this.” She places a hand at my cheek. “I want you. I need to feel you against me. Everywhere. Inside of me.”
I search her face, looking for the cracks, looking for anything that will make me believe she’s doing this for me.
All I see is the same fire I feel mirrored in her eyes.
“Are you sure?”
She answers by lowering her mouth to mine again. Her tongue moves against mine, her mouth seeking something deeper. More.
I want—need—more.
I stand, her legs wrapped around me, our mouths hungrily seeking as I walk toward the bedroom. Her body feels like the missing part of me, like a completion of sorts. I cannot believe I existed this long without her.
We land on the bed, a tangle of arms and legs. My hands thread into her hair as I consume her. She consumes me. She tears at my clothes, and I pause long enough to strip my shirt off, to help her with hers, to…
Fuck, her body is so perfect. So tight. So ready for me. I take in her olive skin, the way every part of her seems molded for my hands. I want to taste the salt of her skin, find out how her tight nipples feel between my teeth, cup the firm slope of her ass while driving into her.
I want to heal her and wreck her, all at once.
“I don’t think I have it in me to be gentle,” I growl, pulling at her underwear as she fumbles with my button.
“I don’t want you to be gentle.” She unzips my pants, pulling them down my hips. I land on her with the motion, both of us laughing at the absurdity, our mouths finding each other again. She’s right there, and I still can’t get close enough.
I pause long enough to retrieve a condom from my dresser drawer. Thank god I thought to get some. When was the last time I needed one? Far too fucking long. But for her, I’d wait forever.
I pull my pants completely off, standing before her as her eyes take me in. She looks at me like I’m a meal, her gaze raking over me while her tongue flicks across her bottom lip.
And her. She’s a goddamn vision. Her hair is wild from my hands. Her skin already reddening from the places my mouthhas been. Her lips swollen and parted. Her breath coming out in rushes of air.
“You can stop me at any time,” I say, ripping the condom open. “Even now. Tell me to stop, and it stops.”
“Ashton, if you stop, I’ll die. I don’t want you to stop.”
A gentleman would have asked again. Would have checked to make sure she was okay. That she wouldn’t regret this later.
I was not a gentleman.
I slide that condom on so fast, my cock straining in my hands, ready to annihilate that beautiful cunt of hers—and fuck, it’s a gorgeous cunt. Glistening and ready. I can’t wait to bury myself in her. But goddamn, I need to taste her.
I dip my head, my hands holding down her writhing hips as I swipe my tongue across her slick center. She tastes like heaven, a burst of earthy sweetness. This is my new obsession. Her taste. Her smell. I could devour her and still not get enough.
Her clit is at a peak when I wrap my lips around it, and I feel her body arch into me as I suck. My fingers enter her, feeling the plush softness of her inner walls wrap around me, grabbing me. Her hands reach for my head, fingers raking against me as I feel her swell in my mouth.
She cries out, her body bucking as her sex spasms around my fingers. I pump them inside her, feeling her body give way and fully submit to me.
Open for me.
And I can’t wait any longer.
I land on her and she greedily kisses me, tasting herself on me in a way that makes my cock tense with anticipation. I nudge at her entrance, sure that this is the part where I check in with her but not wanting to, for fear that she’ll say no.
“Can I—”
“Fuck me, Ashton,” she breathes into my mouth.
It’s all the permission I need. I press into her, feeling her gasp as I cross the barrier. She’s warm and soft, but like a vice grip around my dick.
Jesus, this woman. She’s made for me.
