“The flowers are pretty,” I say, looking for something that can double as a vase. “And they smell incredible.”
“So do you.” He nibbles the pixie dust tattoo behind my ear and traces the line of my neck with his mouth.
I can’t think straight when he’s doing that, never mind searching my cupboards. I turn into his touch, and lowering his head, our lips collide. Greedy and kiln-hot. We waste no time hurrying to the bedroom. Stiles throws me over his shoulder, racing the last few feet. He flings me down on the bed and yanks his shirt over his head. I glance at oodles of toasty-brown skin and the tats covering his arms, including the dragon that circles his left bicep. I crawl forward, pressing my mouth to the center of his torso, also inked, and journey down the contours of rock-hard abs that can only be achieved through genetics and an aggressive workout regime.
I cup his erection, bulging through his jeans.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his voice low and rough. “I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I want to do to you.” His eyes rake over me. “What are you wearing under that?”
“Nothing.”
“Show me.”
I look up into midnight eyes, heavy-lidded, filled with desire and the promise of dark, delicious sin. I remove my hand from his erection and reach up to rip apart the Velcro. When I open the panels, breaths ripple through his wide chest.
“You’re gorgeous, Jordyn, from head to toe and everything in between.”
I smile at the compliment.
“I thought so from the first night we met. You were wearing this short dress and asked me if I was ex-police or ex-military.”
“I said, ‘I bet you know what to do with a loaded gun.’”
“I knew you were trouble.”
“You ignored me, cold as ice.”
“It was a front. I wanted to chew that dress off you.” He pushes me back onto the bed and crawls over me, kissing the side of my neck, taking my earlobe between his teeth in soft bites, claiming my mouth with a restless urgency. His kiss is all-consuming and leaves me bereft when it ends. But he doesn’t go far, trailing a moist path to my breasts and then my nipples, infusing me with ecstatic pleasure as he brings each tip to a stiff, wet peak.
“Love these,” he murmurs. “They get so hard.”
“Jasper,” I moan, arching into his touch.
He gives my nipple a last flick, then licks down to my belly, kissing the butterfly above my pelvic bone. He drags me to the edge of the mattress and kneels on the floor in front of me. “Put your feet on my shoulders.”
Already trembling, I raise my feet to his broad shoulders and mutter incoherently as he kisses the inside of my calf, the bend of my knee, and works his way up to my inner thigh. I rise onto my elbows and watch him.
He leans in, holding my gaze. With the height of the bed, I have an awesome view of his attention switching to home in on his target. Beginning with his lips at the apex, he adds his tongue for a wicked combination—hands and fingers too.
Moaning like I’m howling at the moon, I fist the sheets as he bathes me in kisses, lush, slow kisses that leave me unprepared for the sudden spear of his tongue. Holy shit! My hips arch off the bed, and he holds me down with his hands bracing my thighs and goes to town. His smooth head moves back and forth, his facial hair abrades my skin, and his tongue fucks me with the same overwhelming passion as when he kisses my mouth.
I grind against his restraint in a brutal chase for that climax I know is going to wreck me. Panting, gasping, I beg without shame. “Make me come hard as fuck.”
His breaths, caught between a chuckle and a groan, vibrate…creating another layer of sensation. Then his mouth is replaced by the slide of two fingers. They curl against my inner wall, seeking that magical spot, and his tongue, oh yes, his tongue is now on my clit. The velvety strokes and maddening circles are a decadent friction.
I don’t hold back; I couldn’t even if I tried. The edge of something cataclysmic approaches, a storm brewing, a volcano nearing eruption, the earth quaking…I shove against his mouth with a throaty cry. More intense than anything I’ve ever felt, this isn’t just a release. This is an undoing, an explosion that rips euphoric tremors through me. The contractions contort my body like I’m a gymnast. I’m bucking and pulsing, gasping, and he keeps on sucking, and flicking, and fingering until I come again…this one tiny and keening…a small death that has his name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.
When I finally catch my breath, he’s above me, my essence on his face, slicking his goatee. I slide my tongue over his lips, tasting myself on him.
“You are so fucking hot,” he groans. “I need to be inside you.”
He stands and pops open the button of his jeans.
“Let me.” I scramble to the edge and carefully lower his zipper over his erection. He watches me reach inside his underwear and take out that hard, thick column of phallic beauty.
“Yum.” I lick my lips.
“Jordyn,” he warns, his voice burning with need. “I’m too raw right now for that sexy mouth of yours.”
