Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)(79)

He put the blunt head to my core and eased his shaft in just a fraction. The girth made me shudder, and my entire body ignited. Jericho pulled my hair away from my neck and began a deep kiss against my nape, using all the right techniques of sucking and nipping.
I was trying to reach between our legs to get things going when he seized my wrists and held them so I couldn’t move. He was gentle, and my body rocked with need.
“Come on, baby,” he whispered against my neck. “I can feel you coming.”
Hell’s bells, he was right. My entire body tensed, and as he blew on my neck and ran his ravenous tongue in a circle, I lifted my backside, making him groan.
Hearing Jericho release all that caged sex filled me with heat.
And then it happened, like a twig snapping or a firecracker going off.
I forced my body back so hard it drove his shaft all the way in. All the restraints of pent-up passion crumbled away as he slammed his hips against mine.
I cried into the sheets, overcome by the possession I felt for him. His hands slid between the mattress and me and cupped my breasts, pinching my nipples. The sweet sting made me raise my hips, and he pumped even harder. Wood creaked as whatever flimsy contraption we were on began to shake.
“Jericho… Jericho…” I panted against the pillow as he pulled my hair.
He abruptly flipped me onto my back. “Better,” he said, looking into my eyes tenderly. “I’ve wanted to look at that pretty freckled face beneath me for the last twenty years. You haven’t aged a day,” He kissed my cheeks and brow between his words. “Still as young… and beautiful… as ever.”
“No need for the compliments, sir. I’m already yours.” I gracefully draped one leg across his back.
Jericho arched a single eyebrow. “This isn’t about sex.” His mouth hovered over mine, as if he were uncertain if he could kiss me. I leaned up, and the friction between our lips barely touching was indescribable as he slid back inside me. He whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear him. “I want to make love to you.”
He gently lifted my left leg and rocked into me, kissing my neck so sweetly I could have wept. My fingers traced up his arms to his long hair, which felt like silk in my hands. Jericho moved his mouth to the right side of my neck, and through heavy breaths, he managed to plant the most sensual and giving kisses across my skin. Our bodies sank into each other, and I’d never had a feeling until that moment that I belonged to someone.#p#分页标题#e#
I felt like his.
The slower he moved against me, the more I needed him. He was hitting the sweet spot and my nails bit into his skin as a swell of desire intensified between my legs, making my body tremble and my muscles clench. I didn’t want to come alone, and I knew he was holding back on purpose.
“Together,” I said.
Jericho lifted his head and a smile hooked one corner of his mouth. “Ladies first,” he insisted.
“Don’t be a hard-ass. I want to do this together.”
He thrust deeper, and I moaned. “I want to pleasure you, baby. Just let it go.”
Frustrated by his stubbornness, I cupped his cheeks and leaned up, giving him my tongue, and our kiss went deep. So deep it felt just as intimate as the sex. When it broke, my mouth slid to his ear and I spoke words that broke his willpower as his hips crashed into mine.
“Sweetheart. Oh God, please come with me…” My words broke off into a series of moans, and I gripped the roots of his hair.
“Say that again.”
“Come with me,” I said in shallow pants.
He hooked his arm beneath my leg and pulled it up, driving harder as I held onto his shoulders.
“Not that,” he said.
What had I said? What was it he wanted me to repeat? My brain scrambled. “Sweetheart.”
His body stiffened and felt like granite beneath my fingertips. Jericho shouted and dropped his head, a shower of long hair curtaining my face as I cried out, still rocking beneath him. He picked up the frantic pace again, and we found our release… together.
One word we were always meant to be.
***
Jericho and I held each other for what seemed like an eternity. We nestled our bodies close, our damp skin sticking together. I traced my finger over his left bicep and circled over his tattoo. Jericho tenderly drew my hand to his mouth and kissed the marks on my wrist. I smiled against his chest.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, absently brushing his hand through my hair.
“The song playing outside. Reminds me of the night we went to that DJ’s house and you sat on a soda can that some rock legend had autographed… I forget who.”
“That wasn’t my fault. If you’re going to get an autograph from a legend, you don’t put it on a can of root beer.”