“Hey, I’m just going to go freshen up a minute. Why don’t you find something else for us to listen to. Your choice.” I pul ed away quickly when he frowned, and I could tell he wasn’t pleased about letting me go, even for a minute.
“You’re already fresh. Cheeky even,” he teased, giving me a playful swat on the butt as I turned to walk toward my bathroom.
“Cheeky? Are you going to say more British words to me tonight?” I teased back, once again only half joking.
“Nope, not until you come back,” he said, leaning back on his elbows, looking for all the world like a sex god.
“That’s a deal. Now pick some music, Hamilton.” I swished across the room and just made it behind the door when he made a playful grab at me.
“You have only as much time as it takes me to pick something out, and you better have some good shagging music on this thing,” I heard him say as I shook my head in amusement.
I looked at my reflection. My hair was crazy and full, blown out by the wind from the drive. My lips were kiss-swollen and rosy. My shirt was open, and I looked good. Good enough to seduce a twenty-four year old? Oh hell, I sure was going to try. I wanted to make this last.
I quickly checked my breath, ran my fingers through my hair once more, and readjusted the girls, cinching my cl**vage up just a little more. I felt confident in saying that Jack was a boob man, and I really wanted to make sure that he was happy. So, I began to formulate a plan in my head on how to make sure that he, um, well, that he … first … oh hell.
Just say it, Grace …
I was dying to get him off.
Even thinking this thought brought the color back to my cheeks as I imagined what he would look like when I brought him to where I was craving to bring him.
Thank God. That song was off. He must have been choosing the music. I still had a few minutes. Maybe I could just go for it. Yeah, guys like aggressive women. I would just go out there and make sure to get control of the situation, and I could dictate how things would roll. Yeah, I could maybe … wait a minute … what song was he playing … was that …
He had chosen one of my favorite and one of the most infinitely sexy songs from my iPod.
All thoughts of him “going” before me left my head as I heard the music, and I opened the door to see him standing there, smiling and waiting for me.
Psychedelic Furs filled the room, and the first words of “Until She Comes” rang out.
“Nice choice,” I allowed, leaning against the doorframe.
“I thought you would approve,” he answered, holding out his hand to me and winking. I went to him. Willingly. Wantonly. Wickedly.
Prepare yourself, Grace. This will likely be earth-shattering.
Chapter 11
Jack gazed at me as he slowly slipped my shirt from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He ran his hands down the length of my arms, his fingers entwining with mine. He crossed our hands behind me as he kissed me long and deep, while pressed so tightly against me, I almost couldn’t breathe. In a really good way.
As soon as he released my hands, they found their way to their new home, tangled in his hair. He feathered kisses down my neck to my collarbone, and I heard my breath catch in my throat. Jack smiled against my skin, knowing this was my sweet spot. I felt his hands as they unsnapped the clasp on my bra, adding it to the pile at my feet. He bent his head and left a trail of kisses across the tops of my breasts, his hands traveling up to cup them gently. His thumbs grazed my ni**les and I almost came out of my skin.
“That feels amazing.” I sighed, watching him attend to me. His eyes flicked up to mine, his mouth never leaving my skin. He winked.
“Oh my,” left my mouth, as I dropped my head back to enjoy. His tongue flickered across my right nipple and his mouth zeroed in, taking me between his lips. His teeth gently encircled me, biting gently. I cried out, letting him know that this was exactly what I needed. His teeth nibbled more insistently and his left hand began to move toward my legs. I ran my hands up and down his back, beginning to feel the slow build that was going to quite possibly bring down this mountain.
We moved together across the room while I struggled to remove his shirt.
He refused to break contact with me, so I had to maneuver it between us and finally throw it over my shoulder. I took my first look at him, shirtless, and it was a good thing he was holding on to me so tightly, as I felt my knees shake.
He was so mother-flipping beautiful. I managed to push him away just enough to take him in, and as I held him at arm’s length, I let my eyes travel up and down. He was long and lean, strong and handsome. He had a scattering of pale, almost strawberry blond hair on his chest that gathered into a blessed happy trail low on his tummy. I planned to take that trail as far as I could. He noticed me staring and he grinned.
“What are you staring at?”
I heard at least five witty comments run through my head at the same time, but I could only say, simply, “You. You’re beautiful.” I ran my fingertips lightly across his chest, lower onto his stomach and he groaned.
“Nuts girl, you’re the beautiful one in this room,” he answered, mimicking my movements with his own. We stood about a foot apart, just letting our eyes roam over each other and our fingers explore. I felt a sudden burst of shyness as I realized my much older body was on display and being scrutinized. I tried to cross my arms over my chest, and he caught them, holding them out to the side so he could continue to let his eyes roam across my skin.
“Beautiful,” he breathed again, letting go of my hands to return his to my body. I did the same. As my fingertips slipped into the waistband of his jeans, he raised an eyebrow toward me.
“You first,” he scolded lightly, reminding me of his intentions. He began walking me backward toward the bed and our hands and kisses became urgent again. I knew I only had seconds left before I was going to be powerless, and I wanted him significantly more na**d than he was now.
I expertly snapped open his button and unzipped before he knew what I was doing. As his eyes widened, I slipped one hand inside, found what I was looking for, and gave him a gentle but insistent squeeze.
“Fuck, Grace … ” He moaned, buying me a few more seconds of time, which was all I needed. I slipped his jeans down his legs. He gave in, kicking off his shoes and allowing me to continue to slide them off. I deftly knelt in front of him before he could stop me, and as I finished removing them, I chanced a quick look up. He was staring down at me with such a look of lust and want it almost made me rock back on my heels.
His dark gray boxer-briefs were molded to his body as if they were made to be there. I could see his excitement underneath and my fingertips gently teased, fluttering and massaging him through the fabric. His hands wound in my hair and I pressed my face against him, feathering kisses on him, running my nails up the inside of his thighs.
“Sweet Grace, you are trying to distract me. It won’t work,” he warned.
Is that a challenge?
I looked up at him, running my hands up along his bottom, grasping the back of his boxers firmly.
“You sure about that?” I asked, eyebrows raised. Before he had a chance to answer, I pulled them completely down, grasped him in my hand, and took him into my mouth … fully.
“Oh, God, Grace … Jesus.” He groaned, his hands tightening in my hair, reflexively bringing him deeper into me.
Hearing that gorgeous voice, that unfettered British accent—oh my God.
I let him fill me, feeling the hardness of him at the back of my throat, and I smiled inwardly. This is exactly where I wanted him. He was perfect and huge and smooth and rock hard.
Did I mention huge?
I was in penis heaven.
I pulled back slightly, placing both hands on his length, and decided to mess with him a little. As I admired his perfection, I looked up at him and said.
“Would you call this a distraction?” I asked innocently, letting my tongue lick him from base to tip, playing it up as he watched me.
“Grace, what are you doing to me?” He moaned quietly, tracing his fingers lovingly around my face.
And in a voice that would have made a p**n star proud, I answered back naughtily, “Sucking your cock.” I even shocked myself a little.
There was silence. Jack stopped moving, fingers stopped, hands stopped, h*ps even stopped rocking. I closed my eyes in embarrassment.
Oh, God, why did you say that? Too soon, too soon!
Which is why I was so surprised when I felt myself hit the bed with such force that pillows were displaced all over the room.
Jack had picked me up off my knees and thrown me on the bed and was now attacking me vigorously. My pants were unceremoniously yanked down and tossed aside. All that was left between this now crazed Brit and me was a tiny pair of black lace panties … oops, I’d spoken too soon.
He tore, actually tore, my panties from my body, leaving me na**d and shaking before him. I was in shock by the turnaround. Who knew the word
“cock” would do all this? I would have to remember that.
I heard the sweet sensual music of the Psychedelic Furs end, and somehow my play list from kickboxing class came on, aggressive and loud industrial music filling the room.
The band? The Prodigy. The song? “Firestarter.” Oh my.
Jack looked at me with crazy in his eyes and let his gaze travel all over my body, stopping where my legs met and licking his lips.
“Fucking brilliant.” He growled, and proceeded to grab my h*ps and pull me toward the edge of the bed, sinking down so that I was level with his face.
He bent his head to me.
And then Jack Hamilton began to give me the most earth-shattering series of orgasms I had ever experienced in my entire life.
His tongue touched me and I arched off the bed so violently that he had to hold me down. “No love, you aren’t going anywhere,” he admonished, and the feel of his hot breath against me almost made me come instantly. His hands gripped my hips, angling me so that I was presented to him, making me completely vulnerable to whatever he wished to do to me. I shivered in anticipation.
I didn’t know where he would come from next.
Oh, sweet lord.
His tongue made another pass, dragging all the way up, stopping just below where I needed him, circling, and then pulling back again. I let out a passionate groan, knowing that he would tease me as long as he thought I could handle it.
I didn’t know how long I could last. My hands buried themselves in my pillows as I gave myself over to the sensations that were coursing through me. The mix of the loud crazy music and the feeling of Jack’s hair as it tickled my tummy was an amazing combination.
The music seemed to drive him on, setting a pace to his tongue. He began again, starting at the bottom, and licking me, gathering me, never quite touching me where I wanted him, but dancing around it and over it, making me begin to moan and groan and thrash about on the bed. He did this for what seemed like hours, building me up and then letting me back down. It was maddening.
It was intoxicating.
It was not to be believed.
“Oh, God, that’s so good!” I cried, and I could feel him smile against me as he moaned back, his lips vibrating slightly.
Holy Lord, Jack Hamilton is going down on you. And the Brit has mad skills.
He stopped for a second, and I let my hands slip down and tangle in his hair.
“Grace, you taste unbelievable,” he murmured, letting his nose graze me, and I moaned loudly. Then, his fingers finally began pushing into me. I cried out from the sudden pleasure of it, feeling him inside of me was almost more than I could bear. I clenched down around him, unable to stop the good orgasm that was soon to rip through me.
“God, you’re beautiful.” He moaned, watching me react to his every touch, every stroke. His hands, his fingers were genius. He was playing me like an instrument.
I suddenly remembered the guitar in his bedroom from the other day. That was why he was so good at this. Guitar players always have the best hands.
I moaned again, beginning to lose it. He filled me up, pressing and twisting, searching for … f**k me, there it was. When he hit that, I lost my breath, all of it whooshing out of me in a rush and I froze.
He had found what would now and forever be known as my J-Spot.
I knew I was so close and I moved my hand from his hair, seeking his hand.
His right hand let go of my hip and entwined with mine and I began to see points of light dance across my eyes.
As he continued to apply pressure, stroking me from the inside, his tongue finally, thankfully, perfectly, caressed me at the center of my world.
He touched me, really touched me, for the first time. He pressed his tongue against me, not moving, not licking, not sliding, just holding me down and anchoring me with that one constant, perfect pressure. And I came undone.
I chanted his name repeatedly as I felt wave after wave crash through me, my hands tight in his hair as my back arched and I screamed lustily. The insides of my eyelids were a mix of colors that shot back and forth, exploding as I lost all control.
I lost track of all time. All I know is that in the space of several Prodigy songs, he made me come again and again. I was like a rag doll by the end, limp and limbless. He had taken me with his tongue and his fingers and his hands all over that bed. I was on the edge of the bed, and then I was flipped over on the bed. I was up against the headboard, spread-eagle, while he worked me from below. There was a particularly intense moment when he had me above him, my hands gripping the bedposts for balance while he worked his magical fingers and his super magical tongue inside me.
And he had marked me.
Just before he dragged his body back up mine, he’d nibbled lightly on the inside of my right thigh. I sighed his name once more and he actually bit down, piercing the skin and making me shiver delightfully. He had flashed me a triumphant grin—there is nothing like a proud, proud man. A man should feel pride in his work, and making me come was now his job. I had never been given it so good in my life. My throat was hoarse, my legs were on permanent shimmy-shake, and I could not wipe the grin from my tired face.