that first night in the motel. His skin ran smooth under my hands, firm and soft over his lean, muscular body. I wanted to touch more of him.
He paused in kissing me to pull my T-shirt over my head. Leaning back, he looked down at my chest, and then reached out a single hand to stroke the upper curve of my breast. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, lifting his eyes to my face. His pupils were dilated, huge and dark and full of wanting.
“You too,” I said. “I want you.” My body didn’t care that I’d known him less than a week, neither did it care that he represented the opposite of everything my rational brain knew I wanted. All it knew was that he smelled and felt and looked good, and I wanted him against me naked, now.
I put my hands behind my back and undid my bra, then shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. Jamie made a sharp intake of breath and then he stepped in close to me, cradling a breast lightly in each hand.
He dropped a snowflake-light kiss onto my collarbone, then began to kiss his way down the center of my chest, between his hands, tickling my cleavage with his lips, then turned his head and breathed a stream of cool air on my nipple. I shuddered, my skin glowing with heat and desire.
Jamie growled and moved his mouth over the peak of my breast, closing his lips on me, kissing my nipple as if it were my mouth, stroking it with his tongue, sucking it gently. A groan came from deep in my throat.
I slid my hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me, wanting to feel his body pressed against my belly. He grabbed my ass, lifted me into the air and carried me the few steps to the bed, where he put me down onto the soft surface and then crawled onto me. I tried to get my hands between us once more to undo his jeans, but he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head with one big hand while continuing to suck and lick at my breasts. He was strong, and it only made me want him more. I arched my back, pushing against him, reveling in the silk of his skin against mine.
A cell phone played “The Imperial March” and I started. “Ignore it,” he mumbled against my breast. He deftly undid my pants one-handed and slid his palm down my stomach, along the line of my panties. His fingers played with the elastic, then dipped lower, brushing over the little hair I left there, and then a little lower. I moaned, wanting more. My body burned for him.
The sound ignited him into further action. He let go of my wrists and with both hands grabbed my pants and dragged them down and off. I lay before him spread-eagled, with only my thin, damp lace panties left to cover me. His gaze burned over me and the wet heat between my legs throbbed in response.
“You look damn edible like that,” he said, low and hungry.
Leaning down, he drew one finger across and over the outside seam of my panties, then hooked them to one side to expose my wet sex. He touched it, stroking his finger through the slick secretions, up, around my pulsing clit, and then down the other side. He drew his finger around in circles like that, each spiral bringing me higher. Every circuit brought him closer and closer until I thought my nerves would burn out. I arched and writhed, but the inexorable laps continued.
“Jamie,” I gasped.
“What,” he said, “what do you want?”
I had no words. He grinned that dark, evil grin and then simultaneously plunged two fingers into my dripping-wet center while rubbing my clit with his thumb.
I screamed and thrust up against his hand, hard against those fingers. My skin burned as though it would burst into flames any moment.
“The Imperial March” sounded again. “Ignore it,” he said, still gently moving his fingers in and out of me. “I have things I need to do with you.”
He pulled his fingers from me, leaving me hot and hungry for more. He stood and shucked off his jeans faster than I’d ever seen him move.
I hadn’t realized he was a commando man, and I drank in the
He paused in kissing me to pull my T-shirt over my head. Leaning back, he looked down at my chest, and then reached out a single hand to stroke the upper curve of my breast. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said, lifting his eyes to my face. His pupils were dilated, huge and dark and full of wanting.
“You too,” I said. “I want you.” My body didn’t care that I’d known him less than a week, neither did it care that he represented the opposite of everything my rational brain knew I wanted. All it knew was that he smelled and felt and looked good, and I wanted him against me naked, now.
I put my hands behind my back and undid my bra, then shrugged out of it and tossed it aside. Jamie made a sharp intake of breath and then he stepped in close to me, cradling a breast lightly in each hand.
He dropped a snowflake-light kiss onto my collarbone, then began to kiss his way down the center of my chest, between his hands, tickling my cleavage with his lips, then turned his head and breathed a stream of cool air on my nipple. I shuddered, my skin glowing with heat and desire.
Jamie growled and moved his mouth over the peak of my breast, closing his lips on me, kissing my nipple as if it were my mouth, stroking it with his tongue, sucking it gently. A groan came from deep in my throat.
I slid my hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to me, wanting to feel his body pressed against my belly. He grabbed my ass, lifted me into the air and carried me the few steps to the bed, where he put me down onto the soft surface and then crawled onto me. I tried to get my hands between us once more to undo his jeans, but he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head with one big hand while continuing to suck and lick at my breasts. He was strong, and it only made me want him more. I arched my back, pushing against him, reveling in the silk of his skin against mine.
A cell phone played “The Imperial March” and I started. “Ignore it,” he mumbled against my breast. He deftly undid my pants one-handed and slid his palm down my stomach, along the line of my panties. His fingers played with the elastic, then dipped lower, brushing over the little hair I left there, and then a little lower. I moaned, wanting more. My body burned for him.
The sound ignited him into further action. He let go of my wrists and with both hands grabbed my pants and dragged them down and off. I lay before him spread-eagled, with only my thin, damp lace panties left to cover me. His gaze burned over me and the wet heat between my legs throbbed in response.
“You look damn edible like that,” he said, low and hungry.
Leaning down, he drew one finger across and over the outside seam of my panties, then hooked them to one side to expose my wet sex. He touched it, stroking his finger through the slick secretions, up, around my pulsing clit, and then down the other side. He drew his finger around in circles like that, each spiral bringing me higher. Every circuit brought him closer and closer until I thought my nerves would burn out. I arched and writhed, but the inexorable laps continued.
“Jamie,” I gasped.
“What,” he said, “what do you want?”
I had no words. He grinned that dark, evil grin and then simultaneously plunged two fingers into my dripping-wet center while rubbing my clit with his thumb.
I screamed and thrust up against his hand, hard against those fingers. My skin burned as though it would burst into flames any moment.
“The Imperial March” sounded again. “Ignore it,” he said, still gently moving his fingers in and out of me. “I have things I need to do with you.”
He pulled his fingers from me, leaving me hot and hungry for more. He stood and shucked off his jeans faster than I’d ever seen him move.
I hadn’t realized he was a commando man, and I drank in the
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