Page 64 of Hammered (Dad Bod Contracting 1)
He growls in that feral, utterly masculine way of his as he works me to climax. When I reach the edge, I can’t help but scream. I’ve never felt anything like this in my life, never known this intensity, this wondrous, pure, fiery perfection. He licks and laps and kisses until I’m weak in the knees and openly crying from equal parts relief and ecstasy and wonder.
And then, when I can handle no more, I have to push his face away. “Stop…” I whimper. “I can’t—no more.”
He kneels before me, gazing up at me between the pendulous globes of my breasts, my essence beaded in his beard. “You’re a goddess, Imogen.”
And then he rises gracefully to his feet, hooks his hands under my thighs and lifts me into the air. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around him, and his hands cup my ass to support my weight.
I cling to him as he walks with me to the stairs near the front door, and I can’t help but kiss his forehead and his cheeks and his neck as he carries me effortlessly up the stairs.
His bedroom is at the top of the stairs, but I see nothing of it, only the retreating view of the stairs as he carries me into his room and to his bed. He stands at the foot his bed, holding me up, my legs tangled around his waist, gazing into my eyes for a long moment.
And then he bends over, laying me on the soft, downy comforter. I’m surrounded by softness and warmth, and he’s above me, a beautiful, powerful, attentive, incredible man who just gave me the most stunning, breathtaking orgasm of my life.
“I need more of you, Imogen,” he says.
I’m spread naked beneath him, every part of me bare to him, offered up to him. He’s tasted me, felt me come. He’s touched every inch of my body.
Yet he still wants more?
I reach for him, and this time, he lets me.
Chapter 13
His hands hang at his sides, loosely clenched, and his breathing is slow and even, as if he hadn’t just carried me up a flight of stairs. When I sit up and reach for him, his lips curl into a grin. His erection tents the front of his underwear. I lick my lips in anticipation of seeing all of him, which for some reason makes him snort a laugh.
“What?” I ask, my fingers hooked in the waistband. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No, never. I just didn’t realize it was possible until just now that someone could be adorable and erotic at the same time.”
“Adorable?”
He nods. “The way you licked your lips? It was just…adorable. And erotic.”
“I’ll take adorable and erotic.”
“I’ll take you,” he growls.
“Didn’t you just do that?” I tease.
He shakes his head. “That was just…a preview.”
If that was a preview, I can’t wait to find out what the full program will do to me.
I’m stalling.
Sitting on the edge of his bed, my fingers hooked in his underwear, I let out a slow breath and glance up at him. He just smiles at me and briefly toys with my breasts, as if he just can’t help himself.
My heart is crashing in my chest as I draw the elastic away from his body and peel the cotton undergarment downward. He steps out of them and toes them aside.
Ohhhh god. Holy hell.
Talk about perfection. Standing straight upright against his belly, he’s a thick shaft of veiny, throbbing arousal. The round head gleams wetly, begging for my touch. I reach a hesitant hand out, and then grasp him. One hand isn’t nearly enough—it takes both of my hands to fully encompass his entire length. With one small hand wrapped around his thick erection, I stroke him slowly, watching the path of my hand up to the head, watch my palm wrap over the bulbous, pre-cum-leaking tip, and then slide back down.
I glance up at Jesse: he’s got his arms crossed over his chest, and his jaw is tensing, flexing, and his breathing is coming fast and ragged. “You okay?” I ask.
He nods, tightly. “Better than okay. I wish I could feel your hand around me like that forever, without having to come. But as it is, I’m riding the edge here, and I need you.” He pulls away from me, out of my grip, and then prowls forward. I crawl backward on the bed as he crawls forward onto it, predatory and male and primal. Every inch of him is beautiful, the way his muscles shift powerfully as he crawls toward me, the wild mane of his jet-black hair, the soft, shaggy beard, the tattoos. My breath catches at this vision: Jesse, crawling for me, hunger in his eyes, his arousal bobbing and swaying as he moves, his muscles shifting in the moonlight coming in from the windows.
