Jesse unzips my dress and the silvery-blue silk falls in a puddle to the ground. I sigh when his fingers curl into the band of my black lace thong and he shifts the material to the side before putting it back in place between my cheeks.
“On the bed, Mads, so I can worship you,” he demands. “I’m going to make you come with my mouth before I make you come with my cock.”
I shiver as I crawl up to the headboard then turn to lie on my back. I watch as Jesse stands at the foot of the bed and hooks his fingers into his belt buckle, yanking it open, and peeling down the zipper of his suit pants.
My body is buzzing, and my clit is pulsing at the thought of him stripping out of his clothes for me. I look at him with pure greed and hunger, unable to drag my gaze away from the man standing at the foot of the bed looking at me like he wants to devour me.
His belt hangs open, the zipper of his pants undone. I trace every inch of him with my eyes, from his mouth, full and sinful,to the cut of his jaw. The strong line of his throat. The subtle, sculpted swell of his chest, the lean dips and ridges of muscle running between his ribs down to the top of his stomach. The dark letters of his tattoo that reads,Without the dark, we’d never see the stars,and I swear I feel those words in my bones. If I only get Jesse for one night, I want to memorize him. Then I want to devour him.
A quiet hum slips from my throat as his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in black boxer briefs that cling to him too perfectly. Heat blooms low in my belly when I see the imprint of him. My thoughts flash to the way he felt beneath me earlier, how he pushed up against me when I straddled him, how that low, guttural sound tore from his chest. The memory hits me like a spark right to the center of my body.
Then Jesse hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, and God…I stop breathing.
He lowers them slowly until the fabric slips past his hips. The sight of him makes something inside me fracture. His cock jumps the second he’s free, thick and flushed and so painfully gorgeous that my thighs press together on instinct. An ache pulses between my legs so sharply that I almost reach for myself without thinking. I’ve never had an urge so desperate, so consuming.
He has no idea what he’s doing to me. Or maybe he does because he wraps his hand around himself, and I swear I stop breathing.
He’s already so hard and thick, straining up toward his stomach like his body can’t contain how badly he wants this. How badly he wants me. His hand slides down the length of him in one slow, deliberate stroke, and my breath stutters. He’s solid beneath his grip, veins standing out, every inch of him reacting to the slightest touch. And he’s big. Bigger than I’ve ever seen.
His hand moves again, a gentle shuttle from base to tip. He’snot even doing it for his own pleasure—he’s doing it for me. Letting me watch. Letting me see exactly how undone I make him.
I can’t take my eyes off him. Groomed dark hair curls at the base of him, a stark, masculine contrast against the smooth, taut skin above it. And just beneath his hand, his balls hang tight and drawn up, full, his whole body coiled with the kind of tension that feels like a held breath before a storm.
He strokes himself once more, and I have to bite my lip to keep from moaning his name. My thighs squeeze together, but it’s useless against the pressure building deep inside me.
I’ve never wanted to touch someone so desperately.
I’ve never wanted someone to touch me more.
His hand stops, his grip tightening around the base of his shaft just enough to make his jaw flex. His eyes lift to mine, and the hunger there is so sharp it feels like it cuts right through me.
“Mads, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dark and velvety. “I’m going to taste every inch of you…but first I want to hear how badly you need me.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he releases his cock and steps forward with that controlled, predatory confidence that makes my pulse trip. He climbs onto the mattress, bracing one hand beside my hip as he leans down and captures my mouth with his. His tongue slides against mine then swipes every corner of my mouth. His cock nudges heavy and persistent against my stomach, bobbing with every small movement he makes. The contact is so startlingly intimate it rips a tiny gasp out of me into his mouth. He groans, pleased with himself.
When he finally breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine for a second, both of us breathing hard.
“I need you,” I whisper. “I need you so much it hurts.”
His eyes darken, then he hooks his fingers into the lace band of my panties. I lift my hips so he can slip them off. Hetosses the thong behind him before he settles between my thighs.
Jesse starts at my thighs, like he has all the time in the world. His mouth is warm and unhurried as he trails soft, wet kisses along the inside of one thigh, then the other. Each brush of his lips feels deliberate, like he’s tasting, learning, cataloguing every inch of me. It’s worship and torture all at once.
He lingers, kissing a little higher, then lower, never quite where I’m desperate for him. His hands stroke over my skin, thumbs drawing lazy circles that only make the ache worse. Heat coils tighter in my belly, my hips shifting restlessly against the sheets no matter how hard I try to keep still.
“Jesse…” I breathe, not even sure if I’m begging him to stop or keep teasing me.
He just smiles against my skin, the curve of his mouth pressing into my thigh. He kisses closer to where I want him, teasing, and the air between us seems to crackle. My body is strung so tightly that every breath feels like it might snap something inside me.
When I feel like I can’t take another second of him just playing with me, he finally gives me what I’ve been silently pleading for.
As the first slow, possessive stroke of his tongue glides from my opening to my clit, my spine bows off the mattress and a strangled sound rips from my throat. He groans against me in response and the vibration sends sparks shooting through my veins.
My fingers grip the sheets, holding on, trying to anchor myself to something as pleasure slams into me, hot and sharp and consuming. I can’t think, I can’t form words, I can only feel.
“Mmm,” he moans as he continues to lick me. He flicks the tip of his tongue in circular motions before sucking the bundle of nerves. I moan, squirming against his mouth. His hands slide up to my hips, then return to my thighs, pressing them apart,urging them wider, like he can’t stand the idea of any part of me being hidden from him.
He settles in deeper, his mouth working me with slow, devastating patience. “Jesse,” I gasp, the word breaking on a moan. “Oh my God…”
