She’d always been insecure about her breasts, thinking they were too small for her curvy body. In fact she’d been insecure about everything.
But Brock didn’t seem to mind.
Not at all.
And in the process of him kissing her, touching her, she realized she didn’t mind either; not at all.
His face was rough, the friction of it against her skin was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced. It was hard to remain standing with all the wonderful sensations flowing through her, and she started to tremble.
“I’m just getting started.” He kissed down her stomach, and his gaze moved over her body in what looked like reverence.
Apprehensive, she watched as he knelt in front of her, a wicked grin on his face.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You should watch,” was his answer, right before he lowered his mouth between her thighs.
“No.” She squeezed her legs shut.
It was a bad idea.
But she didn’t know that until he reached between her legs again and hooked one over his large shoulder, holding it down, giving him a better angle, making it impossible for her to think as his tongue tasted the most sensitive part of her.
What was she doing?
She was so exposed!
But it felt. So. Good.
Her hips ground against him, her nails dug into his shoulders, both pushing him away and pulling him closer.
He wasn’t just kissing or exploring her, but sucking, coaxing, making her so unaware of her surroundings that all she could focus on was him, and how he made her feel.
A wave of anxiety was replaced with pleasure as her body pulsed with the rhythm of his mouth.
And then, she broke.
Shattering not just everything she knew about herself, or about sex, but about how it should feel.
With the right person.
With Brock.
His mouth slid to her right thigh as he released her leg.
“I’m not done,” he said, and tremors of pleasure still rocked through her as he slowly backed her up to the bed and lifted her onto it. “Lay down.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. The minute she laid down she jerked his head toward hers, kissing him as hard as she could, sucking his lips between her teeth.
He let out a hiss, deepening the kiss with so much aggression it was almost painful.
“Brock…” She clung to him as if her life depended on it. “I want more.”
His eyes darkened. He pulled away from her and grabbed his jeans. Her heart sank in disappointment; was he leaving? Rejection washed over her, immediately followed by shame.
And then he pulled something out of his pocket.
She was an idiot.
He glanced up at her, taking in her worried expression. “Jane, I wasn’t leaving. I just don’t think an unplanned pregnancy should be part of this plan.”
She just nodded, feeling too stupid to actually use words.
“Hey, look at me.” He cupped her face. “Only a complete idiot would walk out of this room right now.”
“Which is why it’s so surprising you’re still here,” she teased, finding her voice.
He grinned. “Cute.”
“I thought so.”
His eyes flashed as he tapped the packet against his fingertips, “Now, stop talking so I can keep exploring, because we have all night, and I’m not nearly as tired or hungry as I thought I was.”
“You ate?” she asked, confused.
He glanced down at her naked body. “I had a really, really sweet appetizer.” His mouth found hers again. “But I’m a glutton, and I want the main course.”
Maybe weeks from now she’d regret this.
But now she nodded and whispered. “Then take it.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
He was going to burn in hell for all the things he wanted to do to her…for the things that he was going to do to her.
God, he loved her hips; they fit his hands perfectly. He could spend years getting lost in her curves, in the way she responded with little moans and gasps.
Most of the women he had been with had been older, experienced, jaded, meaning they faked orgasms and screamed so loud you’d think that they were trying to get a part in the next Fifty Shades movie.
Jane’s responses were genuine.
This girl, that had held him at gunpoint, called him old, and laughed when he said he’d clean.
His girl.
Possessiveness washed over him as he slid the condom on and watched her eyes grow big. She was nervous.
“Stay with me,” he whispered as gently as he could, because, really, truth be told, he was dying, dying to be inside her, dying to feel her, dying to watch her fall apart.
She responded with a jerky nod and he cupped her face, capturing her lips again and again. They were red and swollen, and her cheeks were flushed from rubbing against his face.