Page 113 of Rock Bottom Girl
The primitive, sexy time part of our brains must have taken over because, instead of picking up my phone or cleaning up the purse debris, I launched myself at him. He caught me in the air and crushed me against his chest, winding my legs around his hips.
I decided I could cling to him permanently. His hand was in my hair, pulling it just hard enough for sparks to ignite on my scalp.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Marley,” he said, pelting me with wild kisses. He used teeth and tongue as weapons, and I was only too happy to surrender. “I want to go slower this time,” he said.
There was nothing leisurely about the way he was looking at me.
“But?”
“But I don’t think I can this time. Maybe the third or the seventeenth time.”
“I’m good with that.” My lipstick was on his mouth, and it was freaking hot.
“Bed?” he asked.
“Yeah. Hurry.”
He didn’t put me down, merely jogged up the stairs with me clinging to him. I was no waif-like flower. I was solid with healthy curves and muscle. And being handled like a package turned out to be an incredible turn-on.
So did being tossed on the bed like a suitcase. I was working my jeans free on the first bounce.
“Strip. Everything,” he insisted, standing at the foot of the bed and tearing off his shirt. I obliged, and we both raced for nudity. He won and celebrated by tackling me to the mattress.
I couldn’t be bothered to look around and take in the scenery, even though I was in the forbidden paradise of Jake Weston’s bedroom. Not with his foot-long sub staring at me.
We tangled with each other, rolling and gasping for breath. Our hands were everywhere. Our mouths were fused. My heart raced. I was galloping into heart attack territory with the adrenaline coursing through me. And I didn’t care. All I wanted was an orgasm like the one I’d had less than an hour ago. I wanted Jake to chase it down for me and present it to me on a silver platter.
“Your tits are perfection,” he groaned, pressing his face to my chest and nuzzling in.
I’d had him pegged as a boob man. He latched on to a nipple, and I writhed next to him. Reaching between us, I found his cock ready and waiting.
He pumped himself into my hand as he devoured my breast. I threw a leg over his hip and angled the head of his penis against me. Every time he thrust into my hand, he nudged against that needy bundle of nerves that had never been more alive.
It was more than enough stimulus. In seconds, a ninja orgasm snuck up and blindsided me.
“Jake!”
“Mmmph.”
The world went cotton candy-colored with glitter and rainbows as I dry humped him to victory. I was so wet I worried about long-term damage to his mattress. It was like the rainy season in Costa Rica down there.
“Need you,” he groaned, releasing my breast.
We rolled closer to the side of the bed. I was on top of him, kissing the ever-living shit out of him. Blindly, he reached into his nightstand. The drawer crashed to the floor but not before he grabbed the tail end of another roll of condoms.
“Stay right there, baby,” he said, sliding me down his thighs far enough that he could roll the condom on.
I helped. And by “helped,” I mean I stroked his shaft with the desperate violence of the sex-starved woman that I was.
Then he was grabbing my hips and lifting me up. With eager fingers, I gripped him, lining the head of his erection up with my desperate-for-another-orgasm greed hole.
Notched in place, Jake stared up at me and gave one swift thrust.
I probably screamed. Why else would Homer start barking in the backyard? But it didn’t matter if the neighbors were waking up to screaming and barking. If they called the cops and reported us for disturbing the peace and unmarried sex—I assumed that was still a law on the books somewhere. It didn’t matter if Jake and I were sentenced to death by stoning.
The only thing that did matter was how beautifully full I was, impaled on his stone-hard cock. We froze like that for long seconds before I started to move. I wasn’t a reverse cowgirl—my quads weren’t strong enough—butthole-waxing, walk-in closet sex-toy-having kind of woman. I was experienced but not expert-level.
But something about Jake Weston groaning beneath me turned me into a wanton sex goddess.
