down and kicked them away. Slowly, for he had trouble believing this was real and not an incredibly erotic dream, Sam stretched out above her on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. “Baby, you don’t know how much I’ve needed this. Needed you.”
Marcy needed him just as much. She smiled up at him when he flexed his hips and thrust into her slick, wet cunt. “Welcome home, Sam. Stop talking and take me. Make love to me the way I’ve dreamed you would.”
He loved her with slow, easy thrusts of his long, thick cock into her wet, willing pussy. Long hot kisses and light nips at the sensitive flesh of her throat, the upper curve of her breasts each spoke of Sam’s love more eloquently than any words he might say. Any gift he might give her.
She was aroused, yet the frantic need to come that had driven her so long seemed to have disappeared and been replaced with a sense of quiet assurance. Sam would take care of her.
Last weekend she’d faced death, and he’d come to her as she’d never dreamed he might. They’d clung together in the eye of the storm when neither of them had known if their next moment might be their last. And they’d relearned—at least she had—that there was more to loving than fucking, so much more to fucking than a hard cock and a ready pussy.
“Ooh. Don’t stop.” Not that she didn’t appreciate Sam’s big shaft stretching and filling her. She did. It was just that the whole sex thing worked better when there was love driving the act. Love for his innate goodness and decency…for his need to master her in every way. Adoration for his hard, muscular body and pride that his looks made other women stare at her with envy.
God, she loved touching him, stroking his tanned, satiny skin and feeling rock-hard muscles twitch under her seeking fingers. The rasp of his beard stubble, the lightly callused pads of his fingers on her cheeks…even the faint scent of the cologne he’d used since she blew two weeks’ allowance to buy him some to wear for her senior prom worked to keep her body at a slow, delicious simmer.
He took his time, almost as though it were their first time—her first time. Conventional, loving sex—the way a bridegroom might take his virgin bride. With every stroke Sam claimed her, decisively but with love.
So much love. An aura surrounded them as the pressure built up in her body. He gritted his teeth, obviously hard-pressed to wait, determined to ensure her pleasure before taking his own. Marcy had never wanted to satisfy a man so much—not even Sam when they’d been kids. Digging her fingers into his shoulders and wrapping her legs hard around his narrow waist, she told him without words that she was close…that she needed him to take his pleasure. To take her, bring her along to the culmination of all her childish hopes and dreams.
Dreams that weren’t dead after all.
Harder. Faster. The slapping sounds of flesh to flesh, body to body and soul to soul drove her higher. Her pussy clenched around his hot, driving shaft. Her orgasm started there, set off a chain reaction that had her whimpering and moaning and clinging to him while he buried his cock deep and let out a primal scream.
A scream she’d have heard even over the roar of the storm that had brought them home.
About the Author
Ann Jacobs is a sucker for lusty Alpha heroes and happy endings, which makes Ellora’s Cave an ideal publisher for her work. Romantica®, to her, is the perfect combination of sex, sensuality, deep emotional involvement and lifelong commitment—the elusive fantasy women often dream about but seldom achieve.
First published in 1996, Jacobs has sold over forty books and novellas, some of which have earned awards including the Passionate Plume (best novella, 2006), the Desert Rose (best hot and spicy romance, 2004) and More Than Magic (best erotic romance, 2004). She has been a double finalist in separate categories of the EPPIES and From the Heart RWA Chapter’s
Marcy needed him just as much. She smiled up at him when he flexed his hips and thrust into her slick, wet cunt. “Welcome home, Sam. Stop talking and take me. Make love to me the way I’ve dreamed you would.”
He loved her with slow, easy thrusts of his long, thick cock into her wet, willing pussy. Long hot kisses and light nips at the sensitive flesh of her throat, the upper curve of her breasts each spoke of Sam’s love more eloquently than any words he might say. Any gift he might give her.
She was aroused, yet the frantic need to come that had driven her so long seemed to have disappeared and been replaced with a sense of quiet assurance. Sam would take care of her.
Last weekend she’d faced death, and he’d come to her as she’d never dreamed he might. They’d clung together in the eye of the storm when neither of them had known if their next moment might be their last. And they’d relearned—at least she had—that there was more to loving than fucking, so much more to fucking than a hard cock and a ready pussy.
“Ooh. Don’t stop.” Not that she didn’t appreciate Sam’s big shaft stretching and filling her. She did. It was just that the whole sex thing worked better when there was love driving the act. Love for his innate goodness and decency…for his need to master her in every way. Adoration for his hard, muscular body and pride that his looks made other women stare at her with envy.
God, she loved touching him, stroking his tanned, satiny skin and feeling rock-hard muscles twitch under her seeking fingers. The rasp of his beard stubble, the lightly callused pads of his fingers on her cheeks…even the faint scent of the cologne he’d used since she blew two weeks’ allowance to buy him some to wear for her senior prom worked to keep her body at a slow, delicious simmer.
He took his time, almost as though it were their first time—her first time. Conventional, loving sex—the way a bridegroom might take his virgin bride. With every stroke Sam claimed her, decisively but with love.
So much love. An aura surrounded them as the pressure built up in her body. He gritted his teeth, obviously hard-pressed to wait, determined to ensure her pleasure before taking his own. Marcy had never wanted to satisfy a man so much—not even Sam when they’d been kids. Digging her fingers into his shoulders and wrapping her legs hard around his narrow waist, she told him without words that she was close…that she needed him to take his pleasure. To take her, bring her along to the culmination of all her childish hopes and dreams.
Dreams that weren’t dead after all.
Harder. Faster. The slapping sounds of flesh to flesh, body to body and soul to soul drove her higher. Her pussy clenched around his hot, driving shaft. Her orgasm started there, set off a chain reaction that had her whimpering and moaning and clinging to him while he buried his cock deep and let out a primal scream.
A scream she’d have heard even over the roar of the storm that had brought them home.
About the Author
Ann Jacobs is a sucker for lusty Alpha heroes and happy endings, which makes Ellora’s Cave an ideal publisher for her work. Romantica®, to her, is the perfect combination of sex, sensuality, deep emotional involvement and lifelong commitment—the elusive fantasy women often dream about but seldom achieve.
First published in 1996, Jacobs has sold over forty books and novellas, some of which have earned awards including the Passionate Plume (best novella, 2006), the Desert Rose (best hot and spicy romance, 2004) and More Than Magic (best erotic romance, 2004). She has been a double finalist in separate categories of the EPPIES and From the Heart RWA Chapter’s
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