Standing hard now, the nubs of her breasts demanded attention.
“Jack…” she entreated.
Without a word, he closed his mouth around one nipple, circled it with his tongue,
sucked the bead past his lips…then released it. Again, he did the same to her other
breast. Sensation began to tighten inside her. Yes, she wanted. Jack made her want—like
crazy usually.
This wasn’t usual. It was…slow. But slow was good. Long rampup to an excellent
climax, right? A little delayed gratification.
Except it felt isolating since he wasn’t talking to her.
Frowning, she placed more kisses down the line bisecting his amazing abs and
headed straight for his fly. He made no sound, neither moan nor protest, when she eased
his zipper down and slipped his jeans off his hips and onto the floor.
Morgan moaned. He looked unbelievable naked—a sex god come to life, just for her.
Once she’d divested him of his clothes, Jack did the same for her, easing the bra
straps off her shoulders, then unclasping the garment at the back. He planted tiny,
hungry kisses on her belly as he pulled her crotchless panties off her body and tossed
them across the room.
Finally, they were both gloriously naked. Now the real pleasure would begin.
Jack kissed her once more, trailing his finger through her cleavage, then tracing her
nipple. Sensation tingled its way through her breast. Morgan arched into his touch. It felt
good, Jack’s fingers on her flesh. She wanted…more.
Easing down her body, Jack captured the tip of her other breast in his mouth and
gave it a loving lick as his palm smoothed its way across her abdomen. He stopped short
of her sex, seemingly contented by fondling the curve of her waist and the slope of her
hips.
He couldn’t possibly be contented. Who would be? And the silence—it was really
getting to her. She felt closed off from him, without any idea of what he wanted, what he
was thinking, feeling afraid to communicate her needs to him in the midst of the hush.
Frustrated, Morgan reached down between them to grab his cock. Mostly hard, always
thick, it filled her hand and then some. She gave a hard little tug on it, rubbing her
thumb across the dry, sensitive head.
He closed his eyes and pressed into her fist. But said nothing else. Did nothing else.
So she pumped him, stroking her hand up and down the thick erection in her hand.
He grew, hardened. Another pass of her thumb over the head of his penis proved he was
still dry. Usually the slit in the head wept with need almost from the instant she touched
him.
Biting the inside of her lip, Morgan came up with a plan to…engage him in the
process.
She rolled him to his back. Leaving a trail of demanding kisses across Jack’s skin,
Morgan made her way from his nipples, sucking and nipping them again, down his
abdomen, which tensed beneath her lips, all the way to his cock. She lifted the
appendage with her hand, swiping her tongue across the purple tip, tracing the thick
veins decorating the shaft with her fingers, then sliding her palm down to cup his balls.
Jack tensed, moaned almost silently, and closed his eyes.
What the heck was he thinking? What did he want? Given their lack of interaction,
Morgan wondered if Jack would care if she left the bed and meandered into the kitchen.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered against his stiff sex.
“Hmmm.” He nodded.
Then he answered again by stealing her nipple into his mouth and giving it a gentle
tug with his lips. Pleasant…but not earth shattering. Not what Jack usually did for her.
When Morgan would have cupped her hand behind his head to force more pressure
to the embrace, Jack rolled her to her back and slid his fingers through her sex. She was
damp, not dripping.
With gentle fingers, he administered a careful brush across her clit, then slipped
slowly into her folds.
That was nice. No denying his touch made her melt. It just wasn’t…mind-stealingly,
toe-tinglingly wonderful, like usual. What was going on here?
His fingers played inside her, thumb manipulating that button of sensation at the top
of her sex. Arousal climbed another sweet notch at the thought of Jack’s hands on her
pussy. He liked that word. And when he said it to her in bed, a part of her mind revolted
against the crudity but…she always melted.
“Am I wet?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“What part of me?” she asked coyly, wishing he would talk in that low rumble of a
voice that held all the sexuality of a wild midnight coupling enshrouded in lust.
“Shhh.”
Then he closed his eyes, shutting her out again. At least she felt that way, despite the
fact that his fingers teased her inner walls with a slide of his fingertips and the caress of his thumb.