by Eden Bradley
“Ah, God!”
“Still,” he ordered.
To her surprise he leaned down and pressed his lips in that space between her breasts where he’d dug into the pressure point there. She let her head fall back with a sigh of pure pleasure. The contrast of sensations was making her head spin. He was making her head spin. That little bit of mind-fuck and the fact that it was Jamie. That fact was mind-fuck in itself.
“Oh yes . . .”
She arched into him, and he pulled away. He stood there simply staring at her, watching her, exploring her body with his eyes—eyes heated with lust, glittering in the soft morning light. And all the while her body heated even more, her system going into overdrive, flooding with desire, a hard-edged need unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
He placed one knee next to her bare thigh on the bed and even the touch of denim on her skin was enough to send a new surge of lust through her.
“Jamie, please . . .”
“Please what, sugar?”
“Do . . . something . . .”
He grinned, the dimples flashing again. “Oh, I plan to. I’m just taking my time to soak you in, girl. And to calm the hell down so I do right by you.” He reached out and traced his fingertip slowly over her throat, then down her side, over her ribs. “I love the ink on you, by the way. Beautiful. And so damn hot.” His finger feathered over her skin, leaving tiny firelights of pleasure in its wake, a small trail of sensation.
Between her thighs was an insistent pulse-beat of wanting. She waited, doing everything she could to hold still and take it, knowing that was what he wanted. Fucking torture for a control freak like her, but especially because it was him touching her. She couldn’t find it within herself to speak.
He used two fingers on her breastbone to push her back onto the bed. With the other hand, he spread her legs wide, so wide she knew she was completely open to him. But she wanted him to see—wanted him to see her, to see what he’d missed out on all these years. To see how wet he’d made her.
He bent over her, one palm flattening between her breasts, the other pressing hard—deliciously—on her thigh.
“I’m going to taste you, Summer Grace. I am going to bury my face between your lovely thighs and lick you and suck you and fuck you with my tongue until you come. And then I’m going to really fuck you. But that’ll have to wait.”
With his hands on her waist, he scooted her up on the bed, then he slid his hands down to her knees and roughly forced her thighs farther apart. She loved it—the manhandling. Loved his soft voice and his rough touch. So much it was making her dizzy.
In moments he was kneeling over her on the bed, his mouth between her thighs. And oh God, she thought she might actually die.
Soft lips and wet, seeking tongue—it was everything at once as he used one hand to hold her hip down, hard enough to hurt, while with the other he spread her open until her clit peeked out from under its hood. He began to flick his tongue at the delicate nub of sensitive flesh. Pleasure was like heat lightning, striking over and over, deep into her body. He moved down, lapping at her swollen lips, her clitoris, her waiting hole with his soft tongue.
She grasped his head, his buzz cut like velvet under her hands, and hung on, moaning. Panting. When he took her clit into his mouth and sucked hard, scraping the tip with his teeth as he thrust two fingers inside her, she came up off the bed, the first edge of climax shivering through her. He must have felt it—he added a third finger, and maybe a fourth—she wasn’t sure. All she knew was the sensation of being filled up. And at the same time he sucked so hard that the line between pain and pleasure was a blur. But she loved it. She screamed as she came, her body convulsing, drowning in sensation.
Before the last shivers of her climax had subsided, he began again, this time pinching the lips of her sex between his fingers and licking her clit, then pushing his tongue inside her. It was so soft and wet, the sensation nearly indescribable—that and the contrast of the pain from his pinching fingers. And his scent all around her, seeming to surround her, envelop her, as the heat of their bodies grew together. Soon she was coming again, shaking with it, crying his name.
“Jamie! Ah, God, Jamie . . . Yes!”
He lifted his face and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning, all dimples again, and even that was hot to her—the pleased look on his face. The damn dimples that had always made her swoon.
“You want to come for me again, sugar girl?”
“Yeah . . . I do. I need to.”
“Mmm, those might be the sexiest damn words I’ve ever heard.”
He stood, stroked the solid ridge of his erection through his jeans and she held her breath, waiting for him to reveal the flesh she’d dreamed of for years.
“I need to see you,” she told him. “To touch you. Come on, Jamie.”
“You want to touch me?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. “Come on then. You take it out. Take my cock out and suck me.”
She shivered at the way he was talking to her. Oh, she had never in a million years imagined what a filthy mouth he had. Somehow she’d always thought of him as more straight-laced than she was. But he had a hell of an edge in the bedroom. She hadn’t thought anything could make her more irresistibly drawn to Jamie Stewart-Greer, but oh my . . . that beautiful, masculine face and that dirty, dirty mouth. The man made her shaky, she needed him so badly.
She sat up on the edge of the bed and placed her hands on his hips. Looking up at him, catching his gaze with hers, she smoothed her palms over the front of his jeans until she felt that hard shaft. She drew her fingertips over it, drawing a groan from him. The desire blazing in his green eyes went through her like a surge of heat up her spine, and she suddenly—blindingly—became aware of her own power. The power of being utterly female. Of having this incredible man at her mercy. At the mercy of his desire for her. And the mercy of her sexual confidence, which was blossoming with every moment.
She ran her fingernails up the thick shaft, swallowing hard at the size of him, then back down, tearing her gaze from his face long enough to see his abs clench with need.
She brought her gaze back to his. “I can’t wait to have your cock in my hands,” she murmured. “To stroke you. To take you in my mouth. To suck you.”
“Fuck, Summer Grace.”
“No, don’t call me that now, Jamie. Call me anything else.”
He grabbed the back of her head and yanked her in until her face was an inch from his open fly.
“I will call you anything I want, sugar girl. We may not have negotiated full-on play yet, but never forget that when you’re with me, I am in charge. Completely.” The command in his voice scared her a little. She loved it. “And”—his tone and the grip on her hair softened—“you are always Summer Grace to me, even though you hate it when I call you that. You are always that sweet and sexy girl I’ve known forever. Wanted forever.”
“Oh . . .”
Had he? All those years that he’d turned her away? But she couldn’t think about it now. She could barely think of anything but doing exactly what she’d said. She licked her lips.
“You call me anything then, Jamie. As long as I can touch you.”
“Yeah, touch me, sweetheart. Do it.”
* * *
HE WATCHED HER as she pulled on his jeans, one small hand snaking in and wrapping around his cock.
He groaned. And thought he’d explode when she freed it from his jeans. The look on her face was pure sex: her blue, feline eyes narrowing, a sultry smile on her lips. Lush pink lips that opened to take the head of his cock into her mouth.
“Ah, yes, sugar.”
Pleasure was some strange combination—the liquid heat of her mouth and something that sliced into him like a knife. That sharp. That keenly edged. Because it was her.
Control.
He pulled in a gasping breath
, then another, deeper this time.
He exhaled as she slid her tongue over the tip, into the hole for a moment, and some vague part of his lust-addled mind wondered where she’d learned that trick. Then his brain went empty as she swallowed him whole.
“Jesus!”
But she didn’t stop, didn’t even pause. With her hand still wrapped firmly around the base of his erection, she slid her mouth up and down the shaft, pausing to lick at the head, to nibble, to scrape her teeth lightly over the swollen flesh before sliding her lovely pink lips down again. He’d never in his life seen anything so damn hot as Summer Grace’s mouth on him, her lips wrapped around his hard cock—harder than he’d ever been in his life. He had to close his eyes or he was going to come in her mouth like some sixteen-year-old. Like he had into his fisted hand thinking about her as a teenager, over and over.
“Oh yeah.”
“What are you doing here, Summer Grace?”
There was just enough light coming in through the window of the Rae’s family room for him to see she was wearing that skimpy outfit she called pajamas, but was really nothing more than a midriff-baring tank top and tiny cotton knit shorts. He could see her nipples under the thin fabric of the top. The sweet floral print did nothing to make it any more innocent-looking. His dick jumped.
She crawled onto the couch, straddling his body. He was too stunned to do anything but lie perfectly still. Could she feel his erection through the cotton sheet covering him?
“I came to see you,” she whispered. “I came to see all of you.”
She slowly pulled the sheet down, already the temptress at fourteen years old.
Fuck. Fourteen years old!
He grabbed at her hand as the sheet came down and revealed his tented boxers.
“Goddamn it, Summer Grace.”
He yanked the sheet back up.
She leaned down until her mouth was mere inches from the rise under the sheet.
“Come on, Jamie. Let me see it. Let me kiss it.” She batted her baby blues at him. “I know how.”
Fourteen. Fuck.
“Go away. You have to go. Go!”
She wasn’t going now. He wasn’t about to tell her to. And he wasn’t going to jerk himself off tonight to the image of her hard nipples under that floral top the way he had for too many years. No, now he was going to come with her. Inside her.
Yes.
“Enough, sugar. And tell me you have a condom in here somewhere.”
She licked her lips. Sexy as hell. Why had he waited so many years? “Of course I do.”
She turned and rolled over onto her stomach, and he watched the curve of her perfect little heart-shaped ass as she reached into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a small foil packet. Instead of handing it to him she tore at it with her teeth, making him smile. Oh, he liked this girl. Every bit the sex kitten he’d always known she was, and yet more, somehow.
She took the condom out as he kicked his way out of his black boots, then his jeans, climbing onto the bed, one knee on either side of her hips.
“Put it on me,” he instructed her.
She slipped the latex down over his hard shaft, and he had to bite back a groan at her touch. He warned himself one more time before he was inside her.
Control.
But as soon as she lay back and opened her sweet thighs for him, her naked little pussy glistening with need and come, as wanton as any woman he’d ever seen and twice as beautiful, he almost lost it. He had to bite the inside of his lip, to take a breath to center himself. And he pressed one hand down hard on her shoulder, exerting his command over her so that he would know it as much as she did. He touched the tip of his cock to her opening, and she smiled, her eyes gleaming. One small tilt of his hips and he was in.
She gasped, but she never took her gaze from his. And even in that moment when he thought all he’d be considering was finally being inside her body, the ecstasy burning like a fuse up his spine, something in him broke open. Let go. She felt it, too—he saw it in the way her pupils went wide, in the parting of her lips, the look of awe on her lovely face. And in that moment something shifted. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he’d lied to himself about why he’d come here. It wasn’t about settling some kind of old debt of mutual lust. It was her.
Summer Grace.
He was fucked.
But there she was beneath him, all big blue eyes and plush pink lips. He laid a hand between her breasts, felt her erratic heartbeat. Her small fingers wrapped around his wrist, holding him there.
“Jamie . . .”
“What is it, sugar?”
“I need you,” she whispered.
He shook his head. He couldn’t figure it all out now. Not with her naked body twined around his. He’d think later. He couldn’t do anything, couldn’t feel anything but this. Her.
“I’m here, sugar girl,” he murmured, capturing her hand in his and raising it over her head as he slid deeper into her.
Then it was all sighs and moans, desire met by the rapture of touch and response. Building, coiling. Inside she was like satin, tight and smooth, surrounding his flesh. He pushed into her, slid out easy as silk, she was so damn wet. Her other hand came up, grasping his wrist, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful than her pleasure-torn face, her arms over her head, entrapped by sensation, as lost in it as he was.
With his other hand he brought both her knees up and together until they were pinned between his chest and hers, and he pressed her down with his body. He needed to command her completely, to make her entirely his. Surging in and out of her, slow and rhythmically, then hard and fast, then slow and steady again, desire spiraled impossibly. She was panting, moaning, whispering his name. He swore he could feel every detail of her body: the velvet texture inside her dragging at his rigid cock, her baby-smooth skin all over. He’d never seen anything as exquisite as Summer Grace’s face, those feline blue eyes as he thrust, pleasure shimmering into his body until he was gasping, biting back his climax.
“Come for me, sugar,” he muttered through gritted teeth. “Come on, now.”
“Ah, God, Jamie. You feel so damn good,” she panted. “I can’t . . . I can’t believe how good you feel. How you fill me up.”
“Then come again, sweetheart. I want to feel you like a fist around me. I want to feel your need, your clenching. Come, my girl.”
“Oh.” Her voice trembled. Her body trembled. And then her sweet pussy clenched, over and over. Tightening around him like a glove. Like the purest pleasure he’d ever known.
“Ah, yes, sugar girl. Yes, yes, yes . . .”
He shivered as the first wave of orgasm slammed into him and shook him to the core. The last thing he saw before sensation blinded him was her face. The flush of her climax on her cheeks. Pleasure like a thousand glittering stars in her eyes. Beauty like he’d never seen before in his life. Then the world went black as he shuddered and groaned.
“Ah, Christ, my baby girl. Yes!” He could barely breathe, sensation making his gut clench, his balls, his brain. He pulled in a gasping breath, muttered, “Oh yeah. Yes, sweetheart. So good. You feel like fucking heaven, I swear it. So good.”
He let her legs go and gathered her in his arms, holding her tight, crushing her small body to his. She was squirming a little, just flexing her hands on his back, her nails digging in. Didn’t matter. All that mattered was whatever was buzzing though his system. Inside his chest. He didn’t know what it was. Didn’t understand. Didn’t matter. She was there with him. His Summer Grace.
Finally he realized she really was squirming, and her gasping had switched from panting breath to what he thought were small sobs.
He pulled back to look at her. Sure enough there were tears pooling in her eyes.
“Fuck. Did I hurt you, sweetheart? Injure you? I was holding you so tight.”
She sniffed, pushed at his chest. “It’s not that, Goddamn it, Jamie.”
“What, then?”
“It’s this. Us. I don’t know why I thought I could do this. All these years of wanting you and you rejecting me. And now you come to my house and take me to bed and it was fucking amazing!”
“I . . . may still be mostly brainless from the best orgasm of my life, sugar girl, but I’m not understanding what the problem is.”
Yet some part of him did. This was fucking dangerous, if she was feeling anything like he was. Things he wasn’t ready to look at too closely. He wasn’t ready to let her go. Fucking amazing was right.
“God, men are so dense.” She pushed at his chest again, trying to get out from under him, but he wasn’t having it.
“Let’s just calm down here. Because this was good, and we barely even took the time to make it everything it could be. Everything it should be, Summer Grace. I’ll admit I’ve been dense. I’ve been a damn idiot. But I’m here now.”
“Yes, now. And you think we can do this—be together in my bed—as if we’d just met? Had no history? We have a damn complicated history, Jamie.”
His chest was going tight. “You wanted this as much as I did,” he said, his tone low.
“Yes. I did. More, maybe. But now . . .”
“Now what?”
“Yes, exactly. Now what? Where do we go from here?” She sounded so vulnerable it made him ache.
Focus on this—on the reason you came here.
He drew in a long breath. “Okay. This is what I know. I want to see you again. I want us to have those negotiations. I want to play you. Here, at the club, however you want it to be. Can you tell me you don’t want those things?”
Her tight shoulders slumped. She sniffed again. “No. I’d be lying if I did. But Jamie, I feel like this whole situation is too . . . loaded. Do you know what I mean?”
Her eyes were so big. He saw fear there and it made his chest go tight. He stroked a few strands of her silky blonde hair away from her flushed cheek. “I do know. I don’t think anyone but you and I could possibly have any idea how deep this goes, how complicated it is, not even the people who know us best. There’s always been a connection that belongs to just the two of us. It’s taken me a long time to realize it, and feeling that punch to the gut seeing you at the club—I’ll admit that. But I know it’s there.”