Page 91 of Nothing But It All
He opens his mouth as I drag my fingertip across his bottom lip. “That’s good to hear. But may I ask what that is specifically?”
I grin. “I don’t want to have sex with Billie.”
Jack’s eyes darken even more.
“You see,” I say coyly, “I’m in a dry spell, and I really,reallyhope you’ll help me find my way out of it.”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
He wets his lips and then kisses me. It’s with a gentle, sweet reverence. He combs a hand through my hair, pushing my locks away from my face as if he needs to have complete access to me. Then, as his fingers reach the back of my head, he tilts my mouth upward.
The kiss deepens, his tongue parting my lips and exploring my mouth.
I moan against him. Gripping his shoulders, I pull him toward me—needing all the contact I can acquire to combat the growing ache between my legs.
He cups my cheeks, walking me backward until my back hits the sink. The glass containers holding cotton swabs and dental flossers rattle against the counter.
Our kisses grow more frenzied, Jack’s body heating against my hands as I roam my palms over his shoulders, down his arms, and onto his chest. The lines of his body, the cuts of his muscles, ripple in my hands. It is a form of foreplay all its own.
He skims his touch down my neck, then my shoulders, before sliding his fingers down my sides in a slow, intentional movement. He grips the top of my shorts and draws them down over my hips.
They unceremoniously hit the floor.
Jack grips the curve of my ass cheeks before pulling away. He drags in a lungful of air, his eyes wild. “Damn, Lo.”
I can barely fit my hands between us to undo the button on his shorts. He steps away long enough for me to force them to the floor.
His cock is hard against my stomach as he grinds his hips into me.
The pressure in my groin is nearly unbearable.
“You still want me to tell you what I need?” I ask, panting as Jack presses kisses down my neck.
“Yeah.”
“I want you to fuck me.”
He stills for a long moment before chuckling against the bend of my shoulder. “Hearing you say that almost makes me come.”
I laugh, the sound turning into a shriek as he lifts me up. My legs wrap around his waist just before he turns us toward the bedroom.
“When did you start dirty talking?” he asks between kisses.
“Today.”
“It turns me on.”
I laugh as he nibbles my bottom lip. “I’ll note that for later.”
He tosses me on the bed. The mattress dips with my weight, and some of the pillows topple to the floor. Before I can get my bearings, Jack is crawling across the bed to me.
I part my legs, letting my knees fall to the side. He wastes no time settling between them.
My breath goes in and out at an obnoxious pace, keeping up with the erratic beat of my heart. I can feel my pulse throbbing in my wetness. It takes everything I have in me not to touch myself to relieve the pressure.
Jack strips me of my shirt, discarding it off the side of the bed. His lips find mine immediately, desperately—his hands roaming my body as if he’s never touched it before.
“I dream about you almost every night,” he says, planting kisses across my jaw. “Sometimes I lie awake and look at our old pictures together. Or I’ll come home and peek into your room and watch you sleep.”
