Page 29 of Searching for Hope

I moan louder.

His hands reach beneath me, wrapping around to grip my thighs and hold me in place. And then he sucks at me, the intensity of the sensation causing me to gasp. My hands find their way into his hair again, fisting the dark strands through my fingers. He groans and the vibration of the sound rattles through my entire body.

“Stop,” I pant, scared that I’m going to come then and there. I’m not ready. “I want you. All of you.” It’s too soon for this to end.

He lifts his body, his eyes darting between mine questioningly.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

His chest heaves with anticipation. His cock strains against his pants. The light from the moon plays with this skin, almost making it glow. The feathers of the swans float on his skin. He’s so excruciating perfect it hurts. Dark eyes are fixed on me, scorched with desire. His cheeks are flushed with arousal. His chest glistens with a sheen of sweat brought on by the intensity of our connection.

I nod, biting my lip as I attempt to control my desire. I want to rip the jeans from his body. I want to run my tongue over his chest and taste his sweat. I want to be owned by him. Used by him. Abused by him. Shame burns at the thought, but it’s the truth.

Shuffling myself to the end of the bed, I look straight up at him as I fumble with the buttons of his jeans. He helps, pushing his waistband over his hips and stepping out when they fall in a puddle on the floor.

He’s naked before me. Completely naked. Gloriously naked. I almost have to squeeze my thighs together at the sight of him. He’s divine masculinity. He’s perfection. His hand falls to my shoulder and he pushes me back onto the bed. My thighs fall open without thought.

“There are many things I want to do to you, Miss Berkley.” A shudder runs through me at the sound of my name on his lips. “But now, right now, all I want to do is fuck you until you scream.”

He gets onto the bed on all fours, crawling over my body until he’s staring down at me. Anticipation swells as his tongue darts out to run over his lips. He lowers his hips, nestling himself between my thighs, the length of him hard on my groin. With one finger, he reaches out and strokes my cheek.

“Are you sure?”

I nod as he slides a condom over himself. And then he rotates his hips, his hardness sliding over me. I gasp and grind my hips into him, eager for him to enter me. A smirk twitches. It’s as though he’s amused by how impatient I am, but I don’t care. I want him inside me. I’m desperate for him. My entire body throbs in anticipation.

“Please,” I whimper.

His smirk increases as he continues to slide his hardness over me, teasing and taunting. Lowering his head, he sucks the lobe of my ear into his mouth and bites, just the slightest bit.

I moan.

He does it again. “I love hearing you moan,” he says, his breath hot on my neck.

My hands don’t know where to land. They run through his hair, down his neck and over the contours of his shoulders. I want to touch every part of him. I want to dig my nails into his backside as he drives into me. I want my moans to be muffled by his flesh between my teeth. I want to cling to him. Crawl on top of him. But most of all I want him inside me. The need is rising with such urgency it’s manifesting as pain.

“Please,” I plead again.

I don’t care that I’m begging. I don’t care that I’m opening myself, exposing my vulnerability. I would fall to my knees and beg at his feet if it would just make him claim me as his own.

“Put your hands above your head,” he orders with a low growl.

I obey instantly, flinging my hands upwards and gripping the covers between my fingers. He runs his hands up my arms simultaneously, his cock still grinding against me and driving me insane. His movements are agonizingly slow, and every stroke of my flesh is an exquisite punishment. I writhe under his attention as one hand wraps around my wrists while his head dips to my breast and he swirls his tongue around my nipple. Lifting off the bed, I implore him to take everything he wants.

“Please Jericho, I don’t think I can take anymore.” I buck my hips, trying to direct the motion of his hardness. “Please.” I moan as the tip of him slides against my entrance.

His tongue runs up the side of my neck. “Say it again.”

I wrestle against the restraint of his hand around my wrists. “Please,” I whimper.

Hooking my feet around his thighs, I attempt to push him into me.

One side of his mouth jerks into a grin as he whispers in my ear. “I love hearing you beg.”

I moan. It feels like my entire body is on fire and Jericho is the only one who can extinguish it. And then, he adjusts his hips, rising up before slowly sinking into me. I gasp at the fullness of him, feeling both relief and escalation of intensity. He bites his lower lip and his eyes roll back as he slowly sinks in. Just when I think he’s entered me fully, his hips thrust and my body tenses as he drives in the last few inches. And then he just holds me, looking into my eyes as I breathe deeply, adjusting to the size of him. His grip of my wrists increases when he pulls out again and then he drives back in, allowing the sensations to overwhelm us both

“Oh, fuck,” he groans.

His rhythm is brutally slow. He withdraws gradually, only to thrust into me forcefully, causing me to grunt and cry out. But it’s a delicious pain. A glorious pain. One that I embrace. One that I want to repeat over and over.

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