The Wicked Pleasures Bundle (Wicked Pleasures: Volume 1/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 2/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 3) by Abbie Cole Page A
Authors: Abbie Cole
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palm. I gasp as he squeezes, arching as he strokes. Moaning as he kneads, pressing more firmly into his hands.
I feel his other hand sliding behind my back, and he expertly undoes the hooks of my bra, pushing it out of the way, setting my breasts free. My softness fills his calloused hand as if he is testing the weight as I whimper against his mouth and open my mouth wider, kissing him more deeply. His rough hands scrape over my soft skin inflaming me, arousing me further.
As he breaks our kiss to raise his head, I watch from under heavy lids as his eyes brighten in approval as he looks down at me. Watching as his head descends to take my nipple into his mouth and moans against me. I arch my back, the erotic sensation of his tongue rasping against my hard, puckered pink nipple, I lean my head back, he suckles, and my eyes close as he nips, and bites, his teeth scrape against my tender flesh, I moan, as his tongue sooths my marred flesh, flicking against it.
I want more, and he gives it, drawing my soft T-shirt over my head, he removes my bra, in one expert tug, to bare my body fully to the soft grey light, the gentle coolness of the air, and his heated attention.
I burn, running my hands everywhere, desperately searching as I lift his shirt and greedily reach and caress frantically.
I now realize that control is far beyond me. I don’t have a shred left—he’s stolen it from me and thrown it away. This is abundantly clear, panting; I draw his face to mine and kiss him greedily.
Half-beneath him, I lift, my body caressing his in flagrant appeal—the oldest method of beckoning known to woman. I want him—and I know he wants me. Now.
His body is rigid with need beneath mine, tense and heavy with it. I want him to claim me, to slide into my body and find release. His fingers are already on the button unfastening my jeans.
With a groan, Jake pulls back from our kiss. On his elbows above me, I can sense he is waiting for me to open my eyes. I draw in a huge breath, my lashes flicker. I feel his sharp intake of breath—and my hard nipples brush his expanding chest which makes me shiver. He shudders—I shiver again, quivers ripple through my stomach to my trembling thighs where his impressive hardened cock is pressing into my leg.
Jake’s eyes shut.
I want him—with every ounce of my body, every ounce of my blood. And he wants me. And I glorify in it—in the hardness of his hands that possess my breasts, in the hardness of his lips as they return to mine. I cling tightly, hands clutching, now kneading the broad muscles of his back, a moment later I find myself sliding around hungrily exploring his chest.
I can’t bear to wait, to drag out the frustration. I arch lightly, responding to the demand in his hands, in his lips, in the steady plundering of his tongue.
He is all heat and shockingly hot hardness. I want to draw him into me, to take his heat in and quench it, to release the fevered tension driving him—the same tension slowly suffusing me. I want to give myself to him—I want to take him into my body.
I will give myself up to it gladly—to the shiver of excitement as he pulls my jeans down, rolling me over he spreads them out, to make a soft blanket, beneath me.
Sharp delight is what I learn as his hands, hard and knowing, possess me, tracing every curve, every soft mound. One hand is sliding beneath my waist, the other sliding lower to cup my bottom. Strong fingers kneading, caressing, the sweet fever spreads, pooling in my belly, dewing my skin. His hand slides lower, tracing the long curve of the back of my thigh all the way to my knee, then slides to the front reversing direction. He makes his way now to my hip, to that sensitive join where thigh meets torso. One finger gently, insistently, strokes downward along the crease—I shudder, suddenly desperate for breath.
As he parts my thighs, he gently but firmly spreads
I feel his other hand sliding behind my back, and he expertly undoes the hooks of my bra, pushing it out of the way, setting my breasts free. My softness fills his calloused hand as if he is testing the weight as I whimper against his mouth and open my mouth wider, kissing him more deeply. His rough hands scrape over my soft skin inflaming me, arousing me further.
As he breaks our kiss to raise his head, I watch from under heavy lids as his eyes brighten in approval as he looks down at me. Watching as his head descends to take my nipple into his mouth and moans against me. I arch my back, the erotic sensation of his tongue rasping against my hard, puckered pink nipple, I lean my head back, he suckles, and my eyes close as he nips, and bites, his teeth scrape against my tender flesh, I moan, as his tongue sooths my marred flesh, flicking against it.
I want more, and he gives it, drawing my soft T-shirt over my head, he removes my bra, in one expert tug, to bare my body fully to the soft grey light, the gentle coolness of the air, and his heated attention.
I burn, running my hands everywhere, desperately searching as I lift his shirt and greedily reach and caress frantically.
I now realize that control is far beyond me. I don’t have a shred left—he’s stolen it from me and thrown it away. This is abundantly clear, panting; I draw his face to mine and kiss him greedily.
Half-beneath him, I lift, my body caressing his in flagrant appeal—the oldest method of beckoning known to woman. I want him—and I know he wants me. Now.
His body is rigid with need beneath mine, tense and heavy with it. I want him to claim me, to slide into my body and find release. His fingers are already on the button unfastening my jeans.
With a groan, Jake pulls back from our kiss. On his elbows above me, I can sense he is waiting for me to open my eyes. I draw in a huge breath, my lashes flicker. I feel his sharp intake of breath—and my hard nipples brush his expanding chest which makes me shiver. He shudders—I shiver again, quivers ripple through my stomach to my trembling thighs where his impressive hardened cock is pressing into my leg.
Jake’s eyes shut.
I want him—with every ounce of my body, every ounce of my blood. And he wants me. And I glorify in it—in the hardness of his hands that possess my breasts, in the hardness of his lips as they return to mine. I cling tightly, hands clutching, now kneading the broad muscles of his back, a moment later I find myself sliding around hungrily exploring his chest.
I can’t bear to wait, to drag out the frustration. I arch lightly, responding to the demand in his hands, in his lips, in the steady plundering of his tongue.
He is all heat and shockingly hot hardness. I want to draw him into me, to take his heat in and quench it, to release the fevered tension driving him—the same tension slowly suffusing me. I want to give myself to him—I want to take him into my body.
I will give myself up to it gladly—to the shiver of excitement as he pulls my jeans down, rolling me over he spreads them out, to make a soft blanket, beneath me.
Sharp delight is what I learn as his hands, hard and knowing, possess me, tracing every curve, every soft mound. One hand is sliding beneath my waist, the other sliding lower to cup my bottom. Strong fingers kneading, caressing, the sweet fever spreads, pooling in my belly, dewing my skin. His hand slides lower, tracing the long curve of the back of my thigh all the way to my knee, then slides to the front reversing direction. He makes his way now to my hip, to that sensitive join where thigh meets torso. One finger gently, insistently, strokes downward along the crease—I shudder, suddenly desperate for breath.
As he parts my thighs, he gently but firmly spreads
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