“Don’t stop.”
He grunts out a “Thank fuck,” then says, “Hold on, baby.”
I don’t have time to ponder what he intends because I’m suddenly lifted in his arms and turned around. The cold wood of the table presses at my back as the heat from Jordan’s body scorches me from the front. Then he’s kissing me again, softly, slowly, but just as potently as before. I didn’t know a kiss could be life-altering, but that’s exactly what it is. I’ll never be the same woman after this.
My body doesn’t know what to feel because there are too many sensations.
Masculine fingers delve into the opening of my wrap shirt, pulling the material down to tease my already swollen and sensitive nipple through my black lace bra. I know from experience that if he keeps that up, I’ll come.
When Mason and I started sleeping together, I learned so much about myself. What I liked and what I didn’t like. How I could orgasm with only nipple play or how one stroke across my G-spot would send me flying. It was freeing to be able to experiment without any repercussions. I knew no matter what, I was safe with him. Mason wouldn’t judge me, ridicule me, or hurt me. And because we were only friends, there were no messy emotions involved with sex. He was just my good friend Mason who also happened to give me great orgasms. When he started seriously dating Aria his senior year at CU, we stopped sleeping together and remained best friends.
But Jordan isn’t Mason. We aren’tjust friends. And there are so many messy, complicated emotions involved. Like love. Because God help me, I still love him.
Suddenly, Jordan lowers but I can’t see through the blindfold what he’s doing. My stomach muscles clench when there’s a tug on the button of my jeans, then the pull of the zipper.
“What are you doing?” I’m panting heavily at this point, and I don’t know if he understands me.
“Ruining you.”
Cool air washes over my heated skin as my jeans and underwear are shoved down. Any self-consciousness about my muffin top or jiggly thighs flies right out the damn window because his mouth is on me, French kissing me intimately—down there.
Explosions detonate with every swipe of his tongue. It’s been a while since I last had sex, so within ten quick, embarrassing seconds, I’m brought to the cusp of orgasm. My legs are shaking so badly, I have to grab hold of the lip of the table behind me with one hand, while spearing my fingers of the other through Jordan’s thick, silky hair.
Jordan must like that because he grabs the backs of my thighs right under my ass cheeks and pulls me closer, his tongue fucking me deeper.
“Jordan,” I gasp when he licks his way up to my clit and swirls lazy circles around the tiny bundle of nerves. The pressure mounts, coiling tighter and tighter, as I’m catapulted toward an orgasm that feels like it will tear me in two. And he’s not even using his fingers to get me there, only his mouth.
“This pussy is mine.”
He tenderly kisses all around my pubis.
“This body is mine.”
His hands move down the backs of my thighs and up again to the undercurve of my ass.
“Youare mine.”
I want to cry outyes, yes, yesto all three, but only one escapes in a euphoric shout when Jordan buries his face between my legs once again, nipping my throbbing clit with his teeth then sucking hard with his lips. The dam of my climax finally bursts open in a tidal surge, and I lose myself to the intense pleasure that never seems to end.
I’m still shuddering from aftershocks when he takes off the blindfold and lifts me in a bridal carry with my legs dangling over his arm because my jeans and underwear are around my calves. I don’t even want to know the state I’m in at the moment. Half-naked, wonderfully destroyed, and thoroughly ruined would be my guess—just like he promised.
“I’m too heavy,” I weakly protest because my brain is still mush.
All that gets me is a grunt and another soul-destroying kiss.
Nuzzling my face in his neck, I breathe him in. Sandalwood, vetiver, and something spicy.
“Where are we going?”
How in the hell is he still carrying me? It’s not like I’m tiny by any means.
Somehow, with me in his arms, he manages to open the back door that leads into the kitchen.
“To my bed.”
All the lights are off inside the house except for the hood light above the gas stove and some low-light sconces that light a path down the hallway he’s carrying me.
To my bed.
