“Tom,” I moaned, pleasure boiling through my veins with each pull of his mouth. I needed him inside me. Now. I unbuckled his belt, and rent his fly open, anxious to feel the heavy weight of his cock in my hands. I pulled him free, squeezing my palm around the hot, hard length of him as he kicked his trousers away. His hands splayed across my ass and he lifted me, yanking my hips up, bracing my body between his and the wall. I wrapped my legs around him, locking my heels against his back, just as his cock notched home.
“Jane,” he said. Sliding one hand up my body, he fisted his hand in my hair and guided my lips to his. My cunt throbbed for him, spasming in anticipation, soaking my curls and gushing over the head of his cock. He probed, slow, shallow strokes, his cock pressing sweet kisses to my pussy while his lips did the same.
“Tom,” I gasped. “Please.”
“Please what?” he demanded.
“Please fuck me,” I said, whimpering as he pushed forward, his cock teasing and retreating.
“No,” he said.
“What?” I blinked with confusion as his gaze met mine, hard and determined.
“Not fuck,” he said. “The other word.”
“W-what?” I stammered, gulping for air as he pressed into me again, a shallow probe that sent a million nerve endings on fire. Coils of pleasure twisted and knotted low in my belly, and I clawed at his back with frustration, trying to pull his body into mine.
“Please,” I whispered, wincing at the desperation that laced my tone.
“Please what, Jane?” he said, his lips grazing over my cheek and jaw as he continued to taunt me.
I writhed against him, trying to deepen the contact. But it was no use, his hands controlled my body completely, he owned me, and he knew it.
“Say it,” he said, his hips grinding against mine mercilessly. His cock slid through my folds, grazing my clit, sending a wave of pleasure coursing through my limbs. “I’m not allowed to say that word. You’ve made that clear. So you’re going to have to say it.” He rocked forward, one delicious inch of his length slicking past my entrance. My body shook at the contact, my cunt pulsing with need.
“I can’t, tell you that,” I said, choking on the words, as I hung my head on his shoulder. “N-not yet.”
“I know,” he said, stroking my hair. “You don’t have to tell me. Just ask.” He lifted my head from his shoulder, his fingers cradling my cheek as he kissed the tears away. “Just ask,” he said softly. “And I will.”
“Please,” I whispered, the words barely audible. “Love me.”
His cock plunged deep as soon as the words left my lips. Stabbing upwards, hard and fast, slamming into my cunt as I cried out, my orgasm bursting through my body with an intensity so fierce, I saw stars. He thrust through my climax, his cock ramming into me ruthlessly, prolonging my pleasure. His fingers bruised my flesh as he fucked me into the wall, his lips sucking the very breath from my lungs. He came apart, exploding deep inside me. My inner muscles seized, convulsing around his cock, wringing release from his body.
“Always,” he said, as he crushed me to him, his lips ghosting over my face, “inamorata.”
He held me then, while I cried.
* * *
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again, for probably the millionth time.
“Shhh, enough with the sorries. You’re starting to sound British.”
I laughed and nuzzled into his arms.
We lay outside, watching the waves crest on the sand as the sun rose sleepily over the horizon. After we made love, Tom had asked me to take him here, down to the pavilion on my family’s private beach. He’d seen it before, when we’d had a picnic via camera phone. That had been just weeks ago, and yet it seemed so much longer, a lifetime. It was also the first night we spent together, all night on the phone laughing and flirting and probably, despite my denials at the time, falling in love. I remember wishing he’d been there with me then, instead of miles away. And now he was, here, holding me by the fire, a thousand blankets wrapped around us as we watched the sun come up.
I was still reeling from it all, the weekend, our connection, the “L-word”, though I was reluctant to let him see. He’d found a trapdoor, a secret escape route through the maze of walls and land mines I’d set up around my heart. I loved him all the more for it, but I was still afraid.
“I’m still fucked up about all this,” I said. “Just because you tricked me doesn’t mean I’m gonna go all hearts and flowers now.”
“I know,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’m still afraid,” I whispered, a soft confession to the wind.
“I know that as well,” he said, tightening his arms around me.
I blushed, not realizing I’d been heard.
“Me too,” he said. “But we’re in this together, and we don’t need to have it all reasoned and remedied right now.”
I narrowed my eyes and tilted my head, looking up at him. “That sounds Shakespeary.”
“That depends,” he said, grimacing.
“On what?”
“Well, if it’s going to get me smacked in my stupid face, then no, it’s not Shakespeare.”
“I’ll suspend all smackings for the moment. Spill.”
“Alright,” he said. Gathering me into his lap, he sat up, wrapping the blankets around us. He bent his head to mine, and we watched the sunrise together, cheek to cheek. “It’s something Rosalind says, from ‘As You Like It’: No sooner met but they looked, no sooner looked but they loved, no sooner loved but they sighed, no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason, no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy.” He touched a finger to my chin and gently turned my face to his. His eyes were shining, dancing with the colors of dawn. “They are in the very wrath of love, and they will be together,” he said. “And, nothing can part them.”
Thank You!
Thank you for reading Becoming Jane – Storms and Dreams. I hope you enjoyed it!
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The next book in the Becoming Jane series is coming soon…
About the Author
Alexis Adare lives in the American Southwest with her lovely husband, cheeky teenager and entirely too many animals. When not writing, she can be found reading, gaming, or watching the latest thrilling episode of whatever HBO series is currently dominating her fancy. She drinks a lot of tea.
I write books. Some of them are naughty. Others are more well behaved. ;) I like my heroines smart, funny, adventurous and independent. I like my heroes assertive, intelligent, charming, and sexy as hell.
Which British actors inspired Professor Grayson? What kind of music is on Jane’s iPod? What on earth is going to happen next? Answers to these questions and more can be found at my website.
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Copyright © 2014 by Alexis Adare
All rights reserved.
Published by Geek Girl Books
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Cover and Book design by Brigid Ashwood
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and i
ncidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Alexis Adare
Visit my website at http://www.AlexisAdare.com
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