His chest rose and fell. He breathed out hard. He didn’t speak. Maybe she’d gone too far. But she was okay with that. She knew how to live alone. To survive alone. If she lost Jack because of this, then she’d be fine with it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Fall Apart
He was certain.
He’d never been more stripped bare or turned on in his life. He’d never had a woman call him on something like this, and forcefully tell him to not toy with her. To be blunt and direct and to say make me come. Maybe he had pushed it. Maybe he’d gone too far with the game. He was going to go all the way right now.
He grabbed her and crushed her mouth to his, and she resisted at first, pushing her fists into his chest, trying to shove him away. But he wasn’t going to let her go. He kissed her harder until she gave in, melding into him, her lips fused with his, their bodies sealed tight. Kissing in a mad frenzy of anger and frustration until he pulled apart. “Screw Brahms. I need to take care of you right now.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were at his building. They were grappling at clothes in the elevator. His shirt was unbuttoned, untucked, and his tie was simply gone. Hell, maybe it was on the floor of the elevator. Maybe it was in the cab. He didn’t care. Her dress was at her waist, and he yanked down her panties, then ripped off the butterfly. He’d already fingered her to orgasm in the cab. He owed her so much more.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered harshly. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you come. I need to make you come all night to make up for it.”
“You do,” she said, as he balled up the panties in one hand. “The cab wasn’t enough to satisfy me.”
The elevator slowed at the top floor, the doors spreading open. They spilled out, and he grabbed at her, pushing up her dress higher, as they stumbled down the hall, drunk on desire. Clutching at his shirt collar, she pulled him in, kissing him hard and deeply, biting his lip. He groaned, letting her know he wanted that kind of touch from her.
“When can I fuck you without a condom? I’m clean,” he said when they reached his door.
“Me too. I’m on the pill.”
“Let’s get inside,” he told her, fumbling in his pocket for his key and unlocking his door. Once inside he dropped her panties and the butterfly. Then he scooped her up, carried her to the couch in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and gently placed her on the cushion. The softness stopped then as he spread her legs roughly, opening them wide. He felt like his entire body was on fire as he stared hungrily at her. Her cunt was a sight to behold. So ready for him in every way. He thrust a finger inside her tight, wet heat. She shrieked and threw her head back.
“That’s right. Now you can be as loud as you want. Let it out. Tell me how much you hated it when I made you wait.”
“I hated it,” she cried out as he added another finger, the wetness coating him instantly. He took a deep fueling breath as he crooked his finger inside her, hitting the spot within her that drove her wild. Made her writhe. Widen her legs.
“And me. You hated me for toying with you,” he added, dropping down to his knees.
“So much,” she moaned, her breathing harsh and heavy.
“You’ll forgive me now. I’ve made you so wet, haven’t I?”
“Yes. God, yes,” she said, opening her eyes and grabbing his face hard with one hand. Rough. Grasping his chin. Making him stare in her eyes as he finger-fucked her. “You turn me on so much. Don’t you understand? Sometimes I just need to be touched. I need you, Jack. I need you to touch me, and taste me, and fuck me,” she said, and she was firm but so damn open and honest at the same time. Laying out her wants. Making everything clear. There was no uncertainty in how she spoke to him, and he absolutely loved her directness.
“You’re a fucking wet mess and I love it,” he said, then he spread her legs and dived in, lapping her up, licking, tasting and kissing her like a hungry man, like it would be the last time he’d taste her in his life.
Instantly, she gripped his hair and arched into him. “You better not stop now, Jack Sullivan,” she said on a moan. “I mean it.”
She arched and writhed into him, rocking into his face, grabbing his hair, moaning and groaning and panting with every touch. His dick throbbed in his pants, and his own want thundered through him forcefully, like a hurricane. My God, she was divine. She was the embodiment of passion, the manifestation of pure sensuality. Never had a woman taken such fierce ownership of her own sexuality in front of him before, and it allured him like nothing ever had. Everything about her was an elixir, from the delicious taste of her, sexy and musky, to the sounds she made, to her sharp nails digging into his skull. She curled her hands around his head, grasping him, so there was no room between his face and her pussy. He didn’t need any room. He wanted to bury his face in her. He didn’t even need to use hands or fingers or a toy because seconds after he’d started, her hips were shooting off the couch, her hands gripping the edge of the furniture, and she was bucking into his face.