Evie
Anxiety coursed through me, making me doubt him. Trying to convince me that he was doing this because of Vincent. That I was a consolation prize. A convenient fuck.
But the heat in his gaze and reverential way he touched me banished those thoughts.
He hooked his hands under my hips and picked me up. The way he manhandled me as he set me on the kitchen counter made me wild for him.
I cupped his face, kissing him, and in return, he dug his fingertips into my thighs.
“God.” He sighed. “I love kissing you. I love these lips.”
His kiss was both hard and soft and a little messy, his hands anchoring me to the granite. As he coaxed my mouth open, he stepped closer, his body crowding me, protecting me, and wrapping me in his masculine scent.
He moved lower, kissing my jaw, my neck, and my collarbones. With one hand tangled in his hair, I used the other to palm his erection.
A little roughly, he grasped my wrist. “No. Last time I let you take charge.”
“But—”
“I need to take my time and do all the things I’ve been dreaming about,” he rasped into my ear. “If you rush me or rob me of this chance, I’ll have to tie you to that bed.”
Oh, fuck me.
Jasper was easygoing. Calm yet energetic with plenty of goofy humor.
But sex-crazed bossy Jasper? Barking orders at me and threatening to tie me up? Be still my vulva.
He kissed up my thighs, gently teasing them apart. My shorts provided little resistance, and soon he was yanking them to the side and nuzzling my damp panties. “Fuck, you smell so good. And you’re already so damn wet for me.”
His fingers traveled under the seam, ghosting my sensitive skin, the touch making me shake with anticipation.
“Are you going to be a good girl and let me eat?” Head between my thighs, he looked up at me. The visual made my pulse race. Eyes burning and bare chest gleaming with a sheen of sweat. It was pornographic.
I wanted it. Him. Never had I considered myself a sexual person. In fact, I routinely went years without sex. I got horny as much as the next girl, but the sensation was nothing my fingers or my pocket rocket couldn’t take care of.
For years, I rolled my eyes at friends who waxed poetic about their sex lives. Orgasms were great and all, but they weren’t worth unraveling my life over. It was nice when it happened, but when it didn’t, I was perfectly fine.
Until Jasper. Until that pulse between my legs became impossible to ignore. The need, the ache for him to touch me.
The certainty that I would combust without him. The desire to feel him on me and inside me. To give him access to every single part of me.
“You can do anything you want to me,” I said, my voice huskier, more desperate than I expected.
He scooped me up and walked out of the kitchen with ease. Damn, what was it with this man and hauling me around?
Grunting like a caveman, he kicked open my bedroom door. Then he deposited me on the bed and rubbed his hands together. “Mama, I’ve been dreaming about the way you taste. Please, can I taste you?”
I lay back, lifting my hips, giving him silent permission to remove my shorts. In one quick move, he yanked them and my panties down. Then he was on his knees and pushing my thighs wide open. All self-consciousness fled my mind when raw need flashed in his eyes.
The first brush of his tongue made my hips buck off the bed. He nibbled and teased, driving my need higher, making my legs tremble. Only when I was babbling incoherently did he start to eat. There was no other way to describe it.
Moans and licks and groans and bites. Fingers and teeth and lips and tongue. I clutched at his hair to steady myself.
It was dizzying. Not just because it felt good, but because he was enjoying it so much. This wasn’t a chore for him; it was a delight.
In a matter of minutes, I detonated, screaming and shaking and levitating as he worked, never stopping, never slowing. One orgasm flowed into another until my vision was nearly black and my lungs were burning from lack of oxygen. Finally, I collapsed on the bed, unable to feel my toes.
As the tension drained from my body, I searched for the words to tell him that what he’d done was world-altering.
