herself fall into it and forget all else.
He let go of her neck and instead grabbed a ponytail of hair, wrapping it tight about his fist. She pushed her hips back, signalling how much she loved what he did to her, raising her bottom to him.
He smacked it, hard, but not too hard to break her intense focus on taking pleasure from her submission.
He grunted now with each thrust, plunging deeper. It was as if he was determined to find something hidden at her centre, a core of her, perhaps her soul. She knew he was demanding something of her.
She thought she knew what it was, too. She worked hard to sustain the rhythm they established and to make sure each forward drive of his cock rubbed against that crucial little spot inside her. He wanted her to come. He wanted her to feel that she owed him her pleasure. For that to happen, she must first let it overwhelm her.
‘Yes,’ she muttered, once she was sure she was on course to her orgasm. The first low stirrings rushed up from the pit of her stomach, then a tremendous climax radiated outwards from her g-spot, causing her to press her mouth to the arm of the sofa and howl into the buttoned leather.
‘Yes, yes,’ answered Jason, slamming into her. ‘You love it.’
He still tugged at her scalp but she felt no pain, only a melting, maddening tingling all over.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Give it to me.’
He grabbed her hips and emptied inside her, for so long that she thought there would be nothing left inside him, just a boneless shell of him lying limp on the sofa.
She was almost right.
When she managed to wriggle out from underneath him, he looked as if he might never move again.
‘Are you OK?’ she whispered, brushing his sweat-damp brow.
An exhalation parted his lips. It might have been some kind of laugh.
‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he whispered. ‘What do you think?’
‘You look . . .’
‘Shagged out? Yeah. There’s a reason for that.’
He encircled her with a shaking arm and brought her down to lie, squashed between him and the sofa back, leather on one side, quivering flesh and hot blood on the other.
‘I do love you, you know,’ she said, rubbing her forehead against his.
She felt his eyelashes flutter on her cheek.
‘Mutual,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever stop.’
Chapter Seven
JENNA WOKE UP the next morning feeling sore. Her bones ached and she needed a shower more than she needed air. Jason had kept her up half the night. If there was any justice, he should be feeling even worse.
She turned reluctantly to her side, ready to ask him, but he wasn’t there.
Must be in the shower
, she thought groggily, but no sounds of water splashing on to the wet room floor could be heard.
She yawned and tried to prop herself on her elbows for a squint round the dim room. Too much effort. She flopped back down and reached for her phone on the bedside table. That made her open her eyes. Half past nine already! And she had meetings scheduled for eleven and two o’clock today.
She edged herself into a sitting position, wincing at the sting between her legs.
‘Jay,’ she called. ‘Jason.’
No reply. Damn. She was going to have to get out of bed.
Gone were the days when she could shag all night and spring back into shape like a bath sponge. A twinge of regret that Deano, rather than Jason, had enjoyed those years of insouciant flexibility added itself to all the other twinges as she hobbled around the room looking for her dressing gown.
‘Jen, you’re thirty-five not ninety,’ she chided herself, stretching out her limbs before slipping on the silk robe. ‘Get your act together.’
She was almost out of the bedroom and in the open-plan living area before it occurred to her that Jason’s clothes were not where he had left them. He had obviously dressed. Perhaps, she thought with a burst of optimism, he had ordered a room service breakfast and it would be waiting for her, together with copious amounts of coffee, when she walked out of the room.
But
He let go of her neck and instead grabbed a ponytail of hair, wrapping it tight about his fist. She pushed her hips back, signalling how much she loved what he did to her, raising her bottom to him.
He smacked it, hard, but not too hard to break her intense focus on taking pleasure from her submission.
He grunted now with each thrust, plunging deeper. It was as if he was determined to find something hidden at her centre, a core of her, perhaps her soul. She knew he was demanding something of her.
She thought she knew what it was, too. She worked hard to sustain the rhythm they established and to make sure each forward drive of his cock rubbed against that crucial little spot inside her. He wanted her to come. He wanted her to feel that she owed him her pleasure. For that to happen, she must first let it overwhelm her.
‘Yes,’ she muttered, once she was sure she was on course to her orgasm. The first low stirrings rushed up from the pit of her stomach, then a tremendous climax radiated outwards from her g-spot, causing her to press her mouth to the arm of the sofa and howl into the buttoned leather.
‘Yes, yes,’ answered Jason, slamming into her. ‘You love it.’
He still tugged at her scalp but she felt no pain, only a melting, maddening tingling all over.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Give it to me.’
He grabbed her hips and emptied inside her, for so long that she thought there would be nothing left inside him, just a boneless shell of him lying limp on the sofa.
She was almost right.
When she managed to wriggle out from underneath him, he looked as if he might never move again.
‘Are you OK?’ she whispered, brushing his sweat-damp brow.
An exhalation parted his lips. It might have been some kind of laugh.
‘Fuckin’ hell,’ he whispered. ‘What do you think?’
‘You look . . .’
‘Shagged out? Yeah. There’s a reason for that.’
He encircled her with a shaking arm and brought her down to lie, squashed between him and the sofa back, leather on one side, quivering flesh and hot blood on the other.
‘I do love you, you know,’ she said, rubbing her forehead against his.
She felt his eyelashes flutter on her cheek.
‘Mutual,’ he said. ‘Don’t ever stop.’
Chapter Seven
JENNA WOKE UP the next morning feeling sore. Her bones ached and she needed a shower more than she needed air. Jason had kept her up half the night. If there was any justice, he should be feeling even worse.
She turned reluctantly to her side, ready to ask him, but he wasn’t there.
Must be in the shower
, she thought groggily, but no sounds of water splashing on to the wet room floor could be heard.
She yawned and tried to prop herself on her elbows for a squint round the dim room. Too much effort. She flopped back down and reached for her phone on the bedside table. That made her open her eyes. Half past nine already! And she had meetings scheduled for eleven and two o’clock today.
She edged herself into a sitting position, wincing at the sting between her legs.
‘Jay,’ she called. ‘Jason.’
No reply. Damn. She was going to have to get out of bed.
Gone were the days when she could shag all night and spring back into shape like a bath sponge. A twinge of regret that Deano, rather than Jason, had enjoyed those years of insouciant flexibility added itself to all the other twinges as she hobbled around the room looking for her dressing gown.
‘Jen, you’re thirty-five not ninety,’ she chided herself, stretching out her limbs before slipping on the silk robe. ‘Get your act together.’
She was almost out of the bedroom and in the open-plan living area before it occurred to her that Jason’s clothes were not where he had left them. He had obviously dressed. Perhaps, she thought with a burst of optimism, he had ordered a room service breakfast and it would be waiting for her, together with copious amounts of coffee, when she walked out of the room.
But
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