Briefly, he thought about adding more fingers, but decided against it. He wanted it to be his dick that stretched her first. He wanted that initial tightness gripping him even though it would probably take him over the edge too fast.
He ended their kiss and slipped his finger out of her. “Sofa,” he breathed. “Right now.”
He grabbed his discarded pants and stood, then pulled her up into a hug. She kissed a path along his jaw as he rummaged for his wallet. From it, he pulled out a condom, dropped the pants again, and scooped her into his arms.
The sofa was plush blue material and low to the ground. He set her on a cushion and dropped to his knees between her thighs, then pushed her legs wide and let his eyes drink their fill of her while he rolled the condom on. He planned on giving her long, slender legs a proper worshipping later, but right now, he only had eyes for her pussy—pink, swollen, and ready for him.
“You like what you see?” Her voice was thick and low with arousal.
The question had him scrambling to find words and remember how to speak them through his haze of arousal. “You’re so beautiful,” he croaked. It was the truth. He’d never seen a more beautiful or provocative sight in his life than Jenna Sorentino in the throes of passion.
She offered him a half-lidded smile in return and slid a foot around his waist to his back, urging him closer. “I need to know what you feel like inside me.”
They were about to solve that mystery together. Light-headed with anticipation, he took his dick in hand and guided the tip inside her. He watched it disappear inch by inch, moaning along with her at the profoundness of their joining together—finally, after all these months, after so much angst and denial and loneliness. He reached around her hips and took hold of her hands, interlocking their fingers. Her limbs trembled and twitched, as if her need for him made her vibrate from the inside out. He liked that.
She was as tight and hot as he’d fantasized. When he’d seated himself fully inside her, he sucked in air through flared nostrils, struggling to regain composure. Nothing else felt this good. His orgasm wasn’t even going to feel as good as the act of burying himself inside Jenna for the first time.
With their eyes locked on each other, he rocked his hips back, then thrust. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parted. He waited for her to meet his gaze again, then fucked her with long, even strokes. She caught on to his rhythm right away and moved in synchronicity with him, together and apart, the friction of flesh driving them ever closer to release.
Every deep thrust elicited a grunt or moan from her that made him long to kiss her. When he could no longer stand not to, he got his feet under him and lifted. Taking hold of her hips, he rotated her with him as he moved onto the sofa, turning them lengthwise. He settled his body over hers so that their stomachs touched and their faces were close enough for him to drop his lips onto hers.
He shifted her knees up close to her ribs, tilting her so that the fluttered series of short thrusts he transitioned into tickled her G-spot. Her mouth dropped open with a strangled cry. “And I thought you were good at dancing,” she said with breathy wonder.
He might’ve smiled except he was a man on a mission now. The need for release was building steadily inside him, intoxicating in its breadth and potency. If he didn’t focus, he was going to explode and he was nowhere near ready to.
Before he lost complete hold of his faculties, he withdrew and bathed her neck and breasts with kisses. “Time for the main event.”
Her hands settled in his hair, stroking lazily. “I thought that was the main event.”
He grinned down at her. “Not in my world.”
He stood and took hold of her legs, dragging her lower body up over the arm of the sofa until her butt rested on it. He kissed a path from her ankle to her inner thigh, then hooked her leg over the back corner of the sofa, her other leg over his shoulder.
Her body’s center was dark pink and open and so delectable that his mouth watered in anticipation of tasting her. Curious if she was looking forward to it as much as he was, he looked past her sex and met her languid gaze.
One corner of her mouth curved up. “You had me wondering if you were going to do this.”
“Are you kidding? This is my favorite part.” Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he put his mouth on her, letting his breath fan over her.
She released a shaky exhale and seemed to settle into the cushion. “Good, because I come so much easier this way.”
Most women did, in his experience. He traced a pattern over her clit with his tongue, then flicked, enjoying the way her whole body clenched in response. Smoothing a hand over her outer thigh, he brushed a kiss to her folds. “Then let’s keep it easy tonight.”
Done teasing and tasting, he got down to the business of coaxing her body to a state of ecstasy. She moaned loudest when he put a little angle on the flicks, so he stayed with that motion, always gauging her responses and adjusting his.
He kept a hand loosely over his dick, stroking occasionally to keep himself hard and in the condom. She came like a massive ocean wave he could see building from far out, quietly gathering momentum until it crashed, loud and powerful. She writhed against his face and he stayed with her, stroking himself in earnest until he was rock hard and ready.
She scooted back, her legs open with the unspoken knowledge of what he needed. He sunk himself into her, his thrusts impatient. She clung to him, arms around his neck, legs around his waist, whispering dirty, sweet nothings about how good he’d made her feel, how huge he was inside her, how badly she wanted him to come.
He buried his face in her neck, giving in to the sensations until release crested once again inside him. “Do you want to try to come again?” he asked. That would be fantastic, but if so, he needed to slow down and pick a position that didn’t hit him so intensely.
She fluttered fingers over the nape of his neck. “No. I just want to bring you pleasure now.”
“No problem there.”
Only a few thrusts later, he captured her mouth in a demanding kiss as he gave himself over to pulse after pulse of sweet release. They collapsed together, panting. Matt couldn’t stop smiling. He rolled to his back, pulling her atop him, and wove his fingers with hers, feeling lighter and happier than he could ever remember. Fear and self-doubt could go pound sand. If she’d let him, he was going to make her the happiest woman in the world, of that he was certain.
She drew lazy circles on his shoulder. “What do we do now?”
“Well, first I’m going to dance with you at the reception until they turn on the lights and make us leave.”
She backed her face up to beam at him. “I like that plan. And then what?”
He traced her bikini tan lines with his finger. “And then I’m going to take you to my hotel room and spend the rest of the night making up for my stupidity in thinking that letting you go was the right thing to do.”
“And then . . .”
“And then I’m going to beg you to make room for me in your life.”
She levered onto her elbow, her hair falling in a tousled cascade around her face to frame her sated smile. He cupped her breast, relishing the delicacy of her skin. She was so pretty, she made his chest ache.
She tapped the end of his nose with her finger. “Baby, you’ve got yourself a deal.”
The first light of morning streamed through the sheers-covered windows, turning Jenna’s bedroom creamy gold. Matt was asleep, sprawled facedown into Jenna’s pink pillow, his arms and legs stretched to all four corners of the double mattress. His feet hung off the bed. Her very own sleeping giant, complete with a low rumbling snore.
Jenna had planned from the beginning to hitch a ride back to the farm with Rachel and Vaughn after the wedding reception ended so she could help out with the morning chores. Livestock were notoriously unsympathetic about late-night revelry. Before leaving the reception, she’d let Rachel know she no longer needed a ride, and would be late to help in the morning because she was staying with Matt.
Despite that their feet were tired from dancing, Jenna and Matt had fast-walked across the parking lot to the hotel, anxious to be alone again in Matt’s room. It was a blessing and a curse that they saw Jake at the hotel check-in counter exchanging harsh words with the front desk worker who’d given his room away because he hadn’t checked in and the hotel had been overbooked. Jenna had known instantly how Matt would handle the situation, and had watched with an incongruous mix of pride and disappointment when he handed Jake his key fob.
Jenna’s cottage at the farm was more than a half hour away, but she used the drive wisely and had them both breathing hard and half undressed by the time they burst through her front door. Sometime after two, they made it onto her bed and let exhaustion sweep them into slumber.
Now that it was morning, all Jenna wanted to do was stay in bed with Matt. Without rolling from her back for fear of rousing him, she turned her head to check the time. Three minutes until the alarm sounded; then she could no longer deny the coming day or her myriad of responsibilities. Three more heavenly minutes snuggled close to Matt, who was buck naked under the sheet draped across the swell of his ass.
If she worked the covers down with her feet, she might be able to give herself a view to go along with the mental image of the backside that she was presently visualizing. She pointed her toe. The sheet slipped several inches lower, revealing the swell of his butt along with skin knotted with old scars that shone silver and pink.
She’d forgotten about that because she’d been so wrapped up in passion, but now her curiosity was tickled. She flexed, then pointed her toe, tugging the sheet lower until it fell away from his butt to rest on his upper thighs. As she’d discovered with her hands the night before, his backside was gorgeous in its masculinity—defined by hard, rounded muscles and a slight fuzz of dark hair—but it was also covered by a web of scars, some divots, others flat, and a few raised and ropey.
She wanted to touch them, to understand what he’d gone through that had left such angry marks on him. She wanted to know how much more scarring the sheets hid.
She spread her toes and caught an edge of sheet between her big toe and second toe, then gave a jerk of her leg sideways. All that remained under the sheet were his feet. She lifted her head a shade to look.
“Hey.” She’d been so intent on her task, she startled at the word.
Matt sounded like he had about a pound of sand stuck in his throat. He wiggled his arm free from under her pillow and slung it over her ribs. His hand cupped the underside of her breast.
“I was trying not to wake you.”
“My body has a good internal clock. I bet your alarm’s about to—”
The radio burst to life with a fast song in the throes of a banjo solo. Jenna groaned and slammed a hand over the snooze button.
Matt poked his tongue into his cheek like he was trying not to smile. “That radio station has obviously never heard of the banjo rule.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers, then gave it a gentle tug.
Pleasure fanned from her breast through her body. “I’ll have to write them an e-mail.” Her voice was throaty, and it had nothing to do with the early morning wake-up.
In a sudden burst of motion, he shifted, caging her beneath him. The whole length of his body was hot and hard. He opened her legs with his knees and her mouth with a kiss that was demanding, needful. She clung to his back and gave herself over to it.
When he tore his lips from hers, his breathing was labored and his eyes had darkened with desire. Through a lopsided smile, he said, “That was one of the best nights of my life.”
She nuzzled his shoulder, drinking in the scent of his skin. “Mine, too.”
“The only way I could be happier right now is if we made this official.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek, his smile firmly intact.
She had no idea what he was talking about. Official? They’d spent the night dancing and screwing. He’d kissed her in front of both their families. How could they make it any more official?
“Jenna Margaret Sorentino, would you be my shiksa girlfriend?”
She nearly chuckled, the question was so surprising and endearing. “I’ve been waiting months for you to ask me that. Of course I’ll be your shiksa girlfriend, Matthew . . . I don’t know your middle name.”
“Joel. Matthias Joel Roenick.” He punctuated the words with a slow rotation of his hips that rubbed his erection against her folds with a tease of light pressure that made her crave more.
“Matthias?” The words rode out of her throat on a breathy moan. She wrapped her legs around his and stretched her arm to her nightstand, groping in the drawer for a condom. They’d have to make this a quickie because she had promises to keep to Rachel, who’d probably been up and working the farm for a couple hours already.
“Matthias Roenick was my great-great-grandfather’s brother, who came out west with him.”
She flicked her favorite pink toy out of the way, scrambling to close her fingers over one of the condoms she knew was in there somewhere. “You and your pioneer spirit.”
“What are you looking for in there?”
“Condom.”
He stretched over and his eyes widened, presumably at her toy collection. But hey, a girl had to pass the lonely nights somehow. He sucked in a breath through his nose, the wheels of his mind clearly turning.
“What?”
He shook his head. “I was trying to figure out a way to justify it, but there’s no way we have time to play with these right now, which is really too bad because I’m already having visions about all the things I could do to you with them.”
She liked the way he thought, liked it even more that he wasn’t threatened by the discovery that she was fully capable of taking her pleasure into her own hands. With one last reach, her fingers closed around a condom. “I can’t wait to find out about those visions next weekend.”
His shoulders deflated. “Damn it, I hate the way that sounds. I’m going to go crazy without you this week.”
She tore the top of the wrapper off, but he grabbed it from her and tossed it on the nightstand, out of reach. Okay . . .
She couldn’t even recall what an unsheathed man felt like inside her. She hadn’t had unprotected sex since Tommy’s conception. The idea of going condomless with Matt turned her on like crazy, but not until they’d discussed it properly. In each other’s arms with the clock ticking down on their time together wasn’t the right moment to swap STD test results and discuss birth control. “You have something different in mind?”
He kissed his way down her stomach. “I thought I’d show you more of my pioneer spirit.”
“Did you now?” She looked at the time and tried not to care. Rachel would understand her tardiness this once.
He stretched his legs back and dropped to his stomach between her thighs, continuing the trail of kisses. “Oh, yes. Especially with that brand-new challenge you issued me.”
“What challenge was that?”
“I know it’s nowhere near the official window of time, but I figured before we got to that”—he motioned to the condom—“I’d see if my mouth could make you hear banjos and like them.”
She threw her head back with a husky laugh. He kept surprising her and she loved it. The point of his tongue did a three-sixty loop around her clit that made her forget all the reasons she’d set her alarm in the first place. She curled her toes into the mattress and lost herself in the sensations evoked by Matt’s clever, capable tongue.
He must’ve been paying close attention to her every nuanced reaction because he brought her right to the edge of release, but no further, before sheathing his erection in the condom and thrusting into her.
Unlike the night before when she’d been too lost in lust to care, this time when she
gripped his ass, she felt the ridges of his scars and realized how little about Matt’s life she knew. Maybe this week apart would be good for them. They could talk on the phone and learn about each other in a whole different way from what sex allowed.
Matt was as deft with intercourse as he was with oral sex and, even though she rarely came this way, she found herself digging for release. She wanted to make it happen with him, not only because she wanted him to see that she could, but because she wanted their sexual encounters to be special, set apart from her other experiences. He must’ve sensed her concentrated effort because he withdrew and rolled her to her hands and knees, taking her from behind. His hand reached around her hip to swirl her clit, relentless in pursuit of her orgasm.
No doubt about it, he was the most skilled lover she’d ever had—and the most compatible. The idea of spending the rest of her life making love with him turned her on like nothing else. He’d always be like this, sensitive to her needs, insatiable. And he was so deliciously big, with a body to die for, and more alpha male than she’d expected, demanding and—
From out of the blue, she came undone, dropping her head to the mattress, pulsing around him. His hand slipped away from her clit. Gripping her hips, his thrusts grew faster. She breathed into the sheet, taking it, taking him, whatever that meant, whatever he wanted. She’d never felt like this before, with her heart and body open and full of feeling.
He slammed himself balls deep, grinding into her and sending ripples of pleasure through her as he grunted his release. She smiled into the sheet, dreaming of a million more mornings like this one.
He withdrew and gave her a gentle push that tipped her sideways on the bed, gave her ass a playful smack, then stepped away to clean up.
“Challenge met,” she purred as she ogled his back.
He looked up from the tissue he’d wrapped around the condom and smiled her favorite dimpled smile. “You heard banjos?”
“And then some. Maybe even harpsichord.”
He mock-frowned at her. “I was with you on the banjo part, but you can’t fool me—it’s never the right time for harpsichord. Ever.”
How to Rope a Real Man Page 13