Jacob, too, was done with the foreplay. She could hear it in the speed with which his belt clicked and hissed as he ripped it out of his pants, unbuttoning them and pushing them over his hips. She felt his hand reach down, felt him peel her panties off, and then—oh God—felt him rub the head of his cock between the petals of her sex.
She was wet—so wet—and he slipped against her easily as he rubbed it up and down. She burned for him, wanted him inside of her so badly, but he teased her a moment longer. His cock head bumped into her clit and she whimpered, rocking her hips against it for friction.
“Ask for it,” he demanded, right when she felt she absolutely couldn’t take a second more of the deliciously agonizing torture.
“Please,” she begged, surprised by the thick lust in her voice. “Please, I need you inside of me.”
His eyes flashed (good girl) and he pushed inside of her. She gasped at the intrusion and felt him fill her. There was no pain this time; even as thick as he was, she was dripping wet and he slid inside easily.
He grunted—a dark, delicious noise from deep in his throat—and his hands clasped over her hips, holding her in place. He hung over her as he thrust inside of her, each motion a slow, mountainous build. Holly surprised herself with her willingness to let him take the reins.
“You’re my princess,” he said and she felt it, felt like royalty lying back on his plush bed while he gyrated his hips in ways that made her toes tingle. Holly wrapped her arms around him and reveled in the warmth of him, his wiry chest hair tickling her breasts and her pebbled nipples, which had fallen out of her dress. As his eyes locked on hers, she felt his hand leave her hip and slide down between their bodies, underneath the bunched up fabric of her dress, and found their way between her legs. He found her clit quickly and she felt his thumb bump against the protruding nub. Her breath caught in her throat and, within seconds, she was writhing underneath him. He rubbed slick circles around her most sensitive spot again and again.
“Oh God,” she whispered, “oh God, oh God, oh God—”
She was white-knuckling on the edge when his thumb pulled back. No! Her eyes flashed open and she looked at him, confused, and gasped. He wore that cocky smirk and just said, “Not yet, princess.”
How did he know—? Before she could ask, he crushed her mouth with his. She shoved her tongue past his lips, desperately licking every inch of his mouth as her hips rocked pleadingly against his. He worked her up like this three more times—or four, or five, or a hundred, she lost count—rolling his thumb over her aching little clit until she was teetering on the edge, pulling away until she caught her breath, and then doing it all over again.
She couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in her life, this desperate for a man, and her body broke out in a light sheen of sweat as she hit that familiar edge. He hungrily licked the salty sweat off her throat and she whimpered, ravished by lust, her head spinning. She bit her lip and tried to hold off so he wouldn’t pull away, but her thighs quaked around his hips and she could feel her clit throb against his soaked finger. Everything inside her got tighter and tighter and she trapped him against her, her arms and legs tight around him and she finally whispered feverishly, “Please, please, please, Jacob!”
This time, he didn’t stop. Instead, he flicked his thumb over her nub faster and his hips hammered against hers as he murmured in the shell of her ear, “Cum for me, Holly.”
His growled voice, his wood-musk smell, his deep cock and talented fingers, all pushed her over the edge. Holly’s world exploded around her. She cried out loudly and gripped him tightly as though holding on for dear life as her orgasm wracked her body with tremors, wave after wave throbbing around his iron-hard dick. Her eyes squeezed closed so tightly, she saw white (thought: if angels could make love, this is how it would feel). Her nails raked over his back and she heard him grunt.
Chapter 17
Jacob thrust into her until he seemed confident that she’d completely ridden out her orgasm and only then did he finally pull out and settle beside her. She felt cold without his warmth, empty, and she curled up next to him with her head on his chest. Her heart was jack-rabbiting inside her ribcage and she could hear his doing the same in his—low, heavy thumps. She wound her arm around him, listening to his heartbeat, and pressed a kiss to his chest.
“Is sex with you always that good?” she asked breathlessly.
He laughed. Loudly. It was a wonderful, rare sound and rattled around his chest like pinecones. “I could ask you the same.”
“Me?” she asked. “I barely did anything.”