Jacob stilled. “Annabelle, what are you—”
She flicked her tongue across him. At the fleeting touch, he groaned, swore, rocked towards her mouth. His hand found her hair, tangling in the silken tresses, fisting. Holding her away from him.
“This isn’t something—you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” she told him, and the pressure that held her back loosened. She took the moment to lick him again and brought him into her mouth.
The sensation of it was overwhelming. He was too large for her mouth and her teeth threatened to pose a problem, but she worked her tongue across him, concentrating on breathing through her nose. Uncertain of whether she was doing it right, she glanced up at him. His hand was gentle in her hair, but his other hand was tight around the arm of the chair and his jaw was clenched like he was in pain.
“Is this good for you?” she asked, withdrawing briefly,
“Yes.” The word came out husky and deep. “Good girl. Take me in deep. Just like that. That’s right.”
Heady from the praise, she increased her pace, and he groaned, every muscle in his body clenched. She explored the hardness of his thighs with her nails as she licked and slaved, and with every eager twitch, every muted gasp, pleasure sank to the gathering heat between her thighs.
She was doing this to him.Shewas the one making him lose control. His voice was ragged as he whispered praises—how beautiful she was, how much he had wanted this, how incredible the feel of her mouth was—and she placed her hand around the base of his shaft to hold him steady.
With a curse, he used the hand in her hair to pull her off. Half dazed, she stared at him, and he reached down to wipe saliva from the corner of her mouth with his thumb. His mouth twitched. “Your enthusiasm is commendable, sweetheart, but any more and this will be over before it has even started,” he said with a flicker of self-deprecating amusement. He beckoned her closer. “Come here.”
Annabelle did as he requested, allowing him to turn her around so her back was to his chest and his arms wrapped around her. Her legs fell on either side of his and she was bared to the empty room. There was something so frighteningly erotic about the position that she squirmed in restless anticipation.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured into her ear, and it was as though his voice had stroked all down her sensitive skin. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her breasts heavy. He cupped them, making a satisfied sound, and she let her head loll against his shoulder as his other hand slid down her stomach. Down, down, past the soft curls that protected her womanhood, to her slick centre. There, right where she needed him. She let out a low moan.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Tell me what you like.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” She tossed her head restlessly as he made small circles. “I liked what you did before.”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I know.”
“I just want to feel like that again.”
“You will.” He stroked her again. Slow, languorous strokes as though he had all the time in the world, seemingly oblivious to the needs of his own body, which had seemed so urgent just minutes ago. And Annabelle lost herself to the pleasure he provoked. It broke over her in hot waves. Gradually at first, then as his fingers became more insistent, it gained intensity, something tightening in her lower regions like pulling on a string.
This was just as it was last time, except it was so muchmorethan it had been then. Then, he hadn’t teased her with such deliberate, provocative slowness. Then, she hadn’t been pressed against his naked body, filled with that strange intimacy that made her heart ache almost as much as her core.
If this was love, then it was unendurable. So sweet it became sharp, panging pain. So much, her body was breaking apart trying to contain it.
“Annabelle,” he said against her ear, his voice a low growl. “You’re holding back.”
She found his arm, gripping so hard her nails dug in. “No I’m not.”
“I can feel it, sweetheart.” He licked up her throat then bit, the sharp slice of pain only bringing her closer to that edge. “But never fear. We have all day.”
“I just—” She closed her eyes, humiliation burning her cheeks. “I just don’t want it to end.”
His fingers stilled for a heartbeat. Then he continued, nose nuzzling at the base of her ear. “Annabelle,” he said, such unbearable tenderness in his voice that it made her nose sting. “Annabelle.”
“Make it last, Jacob. Please.”
“There’s a delightful fact about women you should know,” he said, an attempt at his usual levity back in his voice. He splayed one hand against her stomach, holding her still. “Unlike men, they can do this more than once.”
“You mean—”
“Believe me when I say I am not done with you.” He slid a finger inside her and she gasped at the intrusion, the sense of fulfilment she’d been craving all this time. But not enough. “So hold back if you wish, Annabelle, but this won’t be ending for a long time yet.”
It would have been in vain to resist any longer. His low, seductive voice, paired with the innate skill of his hands, was too much. She broke, feeling as though she truly did shatter with the force of her climax. Into shards, tossed by the stormy waves of pleasure that rocked her. Only Jacob held her together again. Jacob, with his strong arms and his reassuring murmurs. Jacob, whose patience in this knew no bounds, because he waited for every piece of her soul to be stitched back together as he eked out every last drop of pleasure.
Only when she sagged limp against him did he remove his hand and just hold her again. This was deeper than a mere joining of their bodies. A sensation that was difficult to put to words, but that made her feel as though the space between them had shrunk.
