With his cock jutting out, throbbing, the pre-cum glistening at the tip, he reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and fishes out a condom. He tears open the packet and hands it to me.
“I love your cock,” I say, sliding my fist up and down his length, savoring the size and silky skin stretched over steely hardness.
He thrusts into my grip. “Suit me up,” he orders gruffly, “before I come all over your hand.”
I wouldn’t mind, but I want him inside too much to let that happen this round. I roll on the condom and start to lower his jeans, but he has other plans. Suddenly, I’m in the air, his mouth crushed against mine. His big hands cup my ass, urging my legs around him. Strong arms holding me up, he moves us. I wrap my arms around his neck and feel my back hit the wall. His tongue thrusts between my lips as he drives into my body, plunging fully, deeply, stretching me to a delicious ache.
“Jordyn, goddamn, you feel so good I could live inside you.”
I know the feeling. Our hips crash together.
“Yes,” I rasp above his ear, begging him not to slow down or hold back…to give it all to me, everything. “Fuck me harder, Jasper. Make me scream.”
He plants his palms against the wall, setting a frantic, pounding rhythm. Then, without warning, he takes me to the floor. He positions me on all fours with him behind, he shoves into me, and I wail. It’s feral and raw. My ass in the air, I push back into every powerful thrust. My knees scrape against the hard floor, but I’m too turned on to care.
Another plunge and Stiles holds, his fingers digging into my hips a moment before I feel his release unfurl and spread inside of me as he keeps on coming and coming. And still, he thinks of me; his skillful fingers on my clit are all it takes.
I scream, feeling his post-orgasmic quakes as my contractions pulse all around him. We roll to the floor in a heap of sweaty gasps and moans.
“You okay?” He brushes the bangs from my eyes to look at me.
“That was…” I laugh. “I don’t know what that was. But holy shit!”
“Yeah.” He pulls me to my feet and lifts me into his arms, kissing me as he walks to the bed. He lays me down and disappears into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush and the water run. Then he’s back carrying a cloth.
He sits down beside me and runs the damp warmth between my legs. “I was rough. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I smile at his gentle ministrations. “It was amazing.”
He leans over and kisses my belly, then laughs when it growls beneath his lips. “I guess that’s my cue to feed you.”
Dressed in his T-shirt with the smell of him against my skin and Stiles just in his underwear, we eat in bed, demolishing our cold burgers and fries.
He reaches for the wine bottle on the side table and refills my glass, but not his.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
He flashes a grin. “I have to drive, you don’t,” a reminder that he’s not staying the night.
Disappointment and relief tug me in two different directions. I take a sip of wine and put all my efforts into supporting the relief. “Up for dessert?”
“Sure.”
“Or…” I set down my wine and pull the shirt over my head.
“That’s a no-brainer.” He sweeps the food wrappers off the bed and dives for me.
IWAKE TO THE SMELL of coffee. I’m usually up before Pops and out of bed by five on weekdays. My usual routine is to train at the dojo until seven o’clock, shower, and then head to the office or a client’s. But today, my internal alarm hadn’t sounded until six-thirty. Doing what I have time for, I hit the floor with a hundred push-ups, sit-ups, and burpees.
“Morning, Pops,” I say, entering the kitchen after I’m showered and dressed.
“Hey, Junior. Did you hear that two men broke into a drugstore and stole all the Viagra?”
“Nope.” I play along. This joke seems to be on repeat. It’s the third time I’ve heard it. “What happened?”
“Police are on the alert for twohardenedcriminals.” He cracks up, and I chuckle too. “Good to see that smile again.”
“How are the hands?” I ask.
