Oh, God that feeling was back—that desperation to clutch and claw, to lick and bite, to scratch and pull. The way I wanted him gnawed at my insides like it was captive, determined to escape.
Part of me was dying to know what had made him change his mind, but no way was I about to stop and ask. And nothing about his actions suggested he wasn’t sure about this—not the stroke of his tongue, not the strength in his hands, not the thrust of his cock through my fingers. The force behind his desire heightened my own, because I knew what it had taken for him to come back here tonight, to admit that we’d failed to smother the spark between us, to give it another chance to burn.
Howling winds pressed against the windows as we shoved off shoes and jeans and shorts and underwear and tumbled onto the rug. He caught himself above me, and I stretched out on my back, his hips between my thighs. For the first time, we stopped kissing and looked at each other. Lightning flashed a split second before a loud crack of thunder shook the floor beneath us. Then the power went out, leaving us in the near dark.
Jack looked sharply toward the corner of the room where the lamp was, and his body tensed. In my mind I saw him hit the ground after the branch I was standing on snapped.
“Hey.” I took his face in my hands, forcing his eyes back to mine. “It’s OK.” I kissed his lips, his cheek, his lips again. “It’s OK. Stay with me.”
He pressed his mouth to mine and reached behind me with one hand, and I arched my back so he could unclasp my bra. The moment he’d tossed it aside, he descended on my breasts, kissing them, licking them, sucking them, kneading them with his hands. I wove my fingers into his hair, fisted them tight when he took one nipple between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. The ache between my legs throbbed, and I sighed with pleasure when he slipped one finger inside me, then two. As his mouth traveled down my ribs and stomach, I rocked my hips against his hand, melting into his touch. His thumb moved gently over my clit, slow, rhythmic circles that made my skin hum and my stomach muscles tighten.
He moved down further, settling his head between my thighs. I closed my eyes and held my breath. No one had done this to me in years.
After what seemed like a lifetime, he treated me to one long, slow stroke of his tongue from bottom to top, his fingers pushing deeper inside me. I moaned louder than I intended to and caught my bottom lip in my teeth. But when he did it again, this time lingering at the top to tease my clit with the tip of his tongue, I cried out with even more abandon. Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked down at his dark head between my pale thighs. Was this even real?
“I had to taste you.” His voice was low and gravelly, and I struggled to hear him over the storm. “I was halfway home, soaked to the bone, and determined to put you out of my head, but all I could think about was tasting you.”
“I’m so glad you came back,” I whispered. “I didn’t want you to go.”
“You taste as sweet as you look,” he went on, pausing to circle his tongue in a slow, decadent spiral. “Like strawberries in June.” He flicked my clit with quick, hard strokes. “Cherries in July.” He sucked it into his mouth. “Peaches in August.”
“Christ, you can even make fruit sound sexy.”
“It’s you.” He tilted his head in a different direction, swirled his tongue from a new angle. “It’s all you.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t—it couldn’t be—wanted my hands on his body, wanted to lick him and suck him and taste him, wanted to drive him insane like he was doing to me—but I couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Higher and higher he took me, until I teetered at the edge of bliss and then sailed over, my clit throbbing against his tongue.
Desperate to feel his weight on me, I grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. He took his time, lingering between my thighs like I was his favorite dessert and he didn’t want anyone to take the plate away, even though it was empty.
“Come up here,” I said. “Please.”
Reluctantly, he crawled up my body, his mouth hot and wet as he kissed a path up my stomach, between my breasts, up my throat, until his elbows were braced above my shoulders. I reached between us, positioned the tip of his cock between my legs, rubbed it over my clit, slipped it inside me. My entire body vibrated with need for him.
He lifted his hips, pulling out. “I didn’t plan for this. I don’t have—”
“It’s OK.”