Page 38 of Heartbreaker
“Do I want to talk about it?” I ask, and find him a few steps closer now. “With you?”
“We’re friends, right?” John shrugs. “Friends tell each other about their ‘not dates.’” His use of air quotes around the words makes me roll my eyes.
Maybe so, but not us. We’re not those friends. Imagine telling him the real reason Jax had invited me to coffee…The thought of having to admit he was right and that it had been a setup is humiliating. Jaxon only invited me to get underneath John’s skin, andthatgot under mine.
I swipe my tongue over my teeth and turn back to the bag. “It was just coffee.”
“You seem pretty tense for just coffee.” He’s closer now. I can feel the weight of his presence at my back. The tug of that invisible string begs me to turn around. The same pull I’ve felt every time I’m around him, the same one I felt that first night at Ash & Thorn, the same one the other night on the porch, the same one I felt last night before he kissed me…But instead of giving in, I let the annoyance win over.
“Why are you here,Brooks?”
“I already told you—”
“Bullshit. Why are you here? At my parents’ ranch. In this gym. Righthere.” I step toward him, less than a foot apart now. A wave of heat washes over me, but it’s not the same one that normally accompanies his presence. “We’ve barely spoken the last eight months, and now you show up here, on my vacation with my friends, like we’re old friends that are just catching up. But we’re not, John. So, why are you here?”
John doesn’t answer. I don’t even think he blinks, just stares at me, gnawing on the corner of his mouth. And without warning, he takes the final step, closing the space between us, and captures my lips. It feels like our first kiss all over again. There is no hesitation, no holding back as he explores my mouth. His tongue caresses mine with the same authority and dominance I remember from our first night together. This is not like the kiss we shared last night; it’s not soft or slow. It’s hard and passionate, possessive almost, pulling my desire for him to the forefront of my mind. He bends his knees slightly, slides his hands under my ass, and lifts my feet off the ground, wrapping my legs around his waist. My back hits the mirrored wall, and I gasp at the cold glass in contrast to my burning skin.
“Savannah,” he breathes out. His forehead falls against mine, and when his eyes open, I get lost in his endless sea. There are so many words behind those eyes, but he settles for: “You have too many clothes on.”
“Do something about it, then.”
His eyes darken at the challenge, but he doesn’t lean in like I expect him to. The muscles of his throat contract, and he searches my face. What he’s looking for, I’m not sure, but if it’s any signs of uncertainty, he won’t find any.
My right hand clenches the fabric of his sweater as my left slides up his chest, gliding around the side of his neck, and I pull his mouth to mine. The soft moan that escapes him sends a shock through my system, straight to my core.
He lifts my shirt over my head before attaching his lips to my shoulder. My head falls back against the glass, and a moan fills the air when he undoes the front clasp of my sports bra. His hand kneads the flesh of my right breast before he bends down to capture my nipple with his mouth. His tongue swirls around the bud, sucking greedily, every so often letting his teeth graze the skin.
John drops my legs, letting my feet fall to the floor, and brings his mouth back to mine for a quick kiss. “Take these off,” he demands, fingers toying with the waistband of my sweats. He does the same, reaching behind to pull his sweater off in one motion, and the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor builds the anticipation inside me further. Without missing a beat, his hands find me again, one dipping between my legs, and his fingers push between my folds. I gasp at the sudden fullness, and he smirks, kissing my chin. His thumb circles my clit once. “That’s the face I like to see,” he says, and just as fast, he pulls his fingers from me, sticking them in his mouth with a moan of satisfaction. “I’ve missed the taste of you. And as much as I want you to ride my mouth, that’s going to have to wait.”
He cradles my face and kisses me, his tongue sweeping over mine in a soft, possessive embrace. A moan rumbles in his chest when I wrap my hand around his cock, stroking the velvety skin. We kiss for what feels like hours, mouths molded together in a mixture of slow, languid strokes, soft nips, and exploration, until he guides me down to the ground.
I brace my palms against his chest when his hands dig into the flesh of my hip, pulling me to straddle him. The head of his cock rubs against me, and the anticipation is fucking brutal. The realization of just how long it’s been since I’ve had this man creeps in with every passing moment. He must be thinking the same thing because he doesn’t waste another moment, pushing into me with a shared gasp.
“Fuck,” I breathe out, lowering down inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside me. His hands caress my sides, reaching down to squeeze my hips, my ass. The movement begs me to move, and I do. I slowly roll my hips against his, and with the first stroke, John’s head falls back against the cushioned floor beneath us.
“Just like that, Sav.” A soft moan in his exhale. “That’s it, baby. Ride me.” The words spur me on, making me feel sexy…beautiful…confident. My hand traces up my stomach, cupping my breast as I rise and fall, over and over again. My other hand reaches behind to grasp his thigh, and a small tingle forms along my arm where my ponytail swishes over the skin, the sensation heightened by the euphoric state we’re in. I trail my fingers down my stomach until they find the space where our bodies meet, circling my clit. I feel my walls clench his dick. His head lolls, eyes rolling into the back of his head.
After a moment, John winds his arms around my back and sits up. I wrap my arms around his neck when he captures my lips in a bruising kiss. One hand on my lower back, he forces my hips to move in a fluid motion.
Heat fills my cheeks and pools in my core when I look down to see where our bodies connect, watching as his dick moves in and out of me with each roll of my hips. The sheen of sweat makes our bodies slick against each other.
John lifts my chin to meet his gaze, and he smiles before kissing me again. His hands fall back to support our weight as I ride him—a slow, steady pace that fills my veins with adrenaline and ecstasy, bringing me higher with each stroke. My hands explore his arms, his chest, and his neck. Anywhere I can reach.
Without warning, he leans forward again, wrapping his arms around my midsection to pull me flush against his chest. John rocks his hips and mine in tandem. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, without much room to move, but this new position applies delicious pressure against my clit.
“John,” I gasp, clutching his shoulders, and my nails dig into the flesh.
“Eyes on me, Savannah.” His large hand cradles the side of my face, and when I open my eyes, his eyes stare straight into mine. “You trust me?” John asks, the corner of his lips quirked. “I want you to lean back,” he says when I nod. He pulls my mouth back to his for a quick kiss before I do as I’m told, allowing him to guide me exactly where he wants me. This new angle is deeper, opening me further to him, as he lifts his hips, thrusting into me.
“Yes, John. Don’t stop,” I cry out, and my nails dig into the cushioning under my fingertips. I can feel it, my orgasm reaching its peak, and I reach down to rub at the swollen bud between my legs. His name is a soft whimper on my lips when I feel the wave crest. “I’m close.”
“Give it to me, Sweetheart.” His hand reaches out, wrapping around my throat, and applies a light pressure on the sides. “I want to feel you come all over my dick.”
John’s words are the final push over the edge—my back arches, body convulsing, as I clench around him and ride the waves of my orgasm.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I swear I hear the creak of the barn door downstairs, but there’s no way. Everyone is in bed by now. It’s just my imagination—the fear of being caught in such a…compromising position.
“C’mere.” His voice is pleading as he pulls me back into his lap, back to the moment. With his hand still on my throat, John brings my mouth to his. My nails rake down his forearms, his shoulders, his back, scraping over the flesh. I grasp for anything I can hold on to as his hands dig into my hips, moving me exactly how he needs to find his own release. His lips find my neck, sucking on the skin before soothing it with his tongue.
