Page 67 of Jump

My core tingles with need, and my body hums in anticipation. But looking up at a man, his body towering over mine and his cock demanding my attention, is a heady combination I’ve never experienced before Matteo Ruiz.

And I imagine, not one I’ll know after him.

He threads his fingers through my hair and tightens his grip until it stings, but his rough treatment is an aphrodisiac for me. His heavy-handed control turns me on like no other man has ever accomplished.

“In the back of your throat.” He angles his hips to allow me room to turn my face, but the moment I open my mouth and wrap my hand around his shaft, he’s lost to me. A prisoner to my whims. “Fuck.”

I slide my tongue along his length until his powerful body shudders. His thick thighs tremble, and his hand grows tighter. But my panties slick in response, and my desperate desire to taste him is enough to set my nerves aside.

We’ve done this before. Experienced the closest thing to heaven for a night.

Now we finally get to do it again.

So I take him deep into my mouth and stop only when he touches my throat and I can’t take anymore.

“Fuck!” He throws his head back so the stream of shower water runs along his chest and dribbles onto my face.

But I groan and squeeze him between my lips. I crush my thighs together, and whimper when the friction sets my blood alight.

“Jesus, Vivian. You’re like magic.”

I bring my free hand up and cup his testicles, which only makes his powerful form shudder, then I unsheathe my teeth and slide them along his length, purely to taunt him.

To send him to the brink of insanity and hope he drags me over the ledge with him.

“Fuck!” He repositions his hand at the back of my head and yanks me closer until his cock fills my throat and tears flood my eyes.

But moisture fills my panties, too. My want for him, needier and more potent.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you every day since the first.” He groans when I swallow with him still deep inside me. “But when I moved in here and got to see you every day?” He tugs me back by the hair and stares down into my eyes. “I did fuck you, Viv. Every single night in my dreams. Every single morning, I touched my cock and thought of you.”

“God.” A soft whimper rolls along my throat, but he drags me forward again and silences me with his cock.

My core thrums with need, and my clit begs for attention, so I drop my hand and slip it inside my pants. They’re soaked from the shower, slippery from my own lubrication. Fiery heat pulses just beneath the fabric, and when I touch my fingertips to my throbbing clit, I grit down on Matt’s cock and moan as electricity sprints in my veins. “Jesus.”

“You want some?” He pulls me off his dick and up to my feet, though he makes sure not to hurt me more than could be considered pleasurable. Then lowering to his knees while I sway on my feet, he peels my pants and underwear down until they sit at my ankles and provide a dangerous tripping hazard if I were to try to walk.

“Lift your foot.” He taps my leg, and nibbles on my thigh when I obey. Untangling the fabric, he moves to the other side and again nips at my skin when I do as he asks.

Tossing my last layers away and bending his back, he slips his tongue between my folds so I cry out in pleasure and brace my hands on his shoulders.

“You taste better than in my memories,” he purrs.

He manhandles me, unafraid of scaring or offending me. He grabs my leg, his palm at the back of my knee, and lifts until my hands shoot to the wall to keep my balance. Then he drapes my leg over his shoulder and opens me wide for his perusal.

He slips his fingers between my folds and literally separates them so he can see. Taste. Study. Then, when I think I might pass out from lack of oxygen, he buries his tongue in my pussy and feasts.

My supporting leg buckles, and a long cry rolls along my throat, but Matt is strong enough for us both. He holds me up and ensures I won’t melt to the floor. “You like it like this?” He slips two fingers inside me and brushes over the bundle of nerves that’ll end with an orgasm.

Or an explosion neither of us will survive.

He pumps his fingers and laps up the mess I produce, and when I drop one hand to his shoulder and dig my nails in, he growls so the vibration sends me spiraling toward oblivion.

“Matt!” My pulse thunders too fast, and my peak dashes closer. “Oh god, Matt.”

“You nearly there, Anarchy?” He tosses my leg off his shoulder, and thrusts up straight so his movement leaves me dizzy and his tongue’s absence from my clit leaves me reeling. But then he turns me and slams my chest to the shower wall.

My breath races from my lungs upon impact, and my mind swims. Too much. Too good. Too fast. Too… everything.

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