Текст книги "Jesse"

Автор книги: Jo Raven

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Fifteen

Amber

He tastes faintly of my mint toothpaste and something dark and spicy, like chili chocolate. Delicious, so much better than I remember, and then his arm slips around my waist, crushing me to him. I collapse half on top of him and he tucks me by his side and keeps kissing me, his tongue tangling with mine, setting me on fire. His large, strong hand strokes down my back and cups my ass, possessive and firm but steady, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth like it’s his favorite sweet.

We kiss and kiss. My hand rests on his hard chest, and I’m dying to explore his muscled body, starting from the pierced nipples to the impressive erection that’s trying to push out of his briefs, but I stop myself and let him do what he pleases.

He hums in my mouth, one hand locked on my backside, the other coming up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. It’s tender, and hot, and not at all what I expected when I asked him what he wanted.

Truth is, I expected him to demand something racy, something dirty and raw. No idea what I’d have done if that was what he asked for.

I’d have gone down on him if he’d said so. I never tried doing it before, but the thought of giving him pleasure is heady. Makes me ache with need—the need to feel him, feel his lips and hands on me, feel him inside of me.

But what he asked is so sweet my heart is melting.

Oh God… I pull back, breaking the kiss, my breath coming in shallow pants. Wow. Kissing him is so hot.

“I could kiss you forever,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine I feel the words forming. I turn my head and the rough stubble on his jaw scrapes on my cheek. “I could hold you forever.”

“Didn’t think you’d like this,” I say, my heart pounding.

He blinks at me, absurdly long, dark lashes shielding his eyes. He looks boyish like that, and adorably confused. “Never done this with anyone else,” he whispers. “Never kissed anyone. Only you.”

I turn back to look at him and catch that flash of vulnerability in his gaze.

Okay, scratch melting. I want to hug him so hard right now he may never recover. If I’m not careful, I’ll break his bones and he’ll break my heart, scatter the pieces to the winds and go back to his manwhore ways before I realize what has happened.

I shift on one elbow and trail my hand on his stomach, trace the bumps of his perfect abs upward, toward his pecs. “What about kissing you here?”

His pulse jumps under my hand, and the muscles in his stomach tense when I bend and kiss his chest. “What…?”

His skin is silky smooth, stretched over steel. I trail my lips up his bulging pec and tug lightly on the silver hoop piercing his nipple with my teeth. He tastes of salt and sugar and metal.

His breath hitches, and his hands tighten on my hips. I do the same to the other one, tugging and licking, and he groans. “Fuck, Embers…”

I hope I look more confident than I feel. Never done anything like this before, but he seems to like it, and I love mapping his beautiful body. Knowing he can’t help the sounds escaping him, or the way his hips buck up, is so hot. I trail my hand down his flat stomach, down his fine treasure trail, and stop when his hard-on bumps into my wrist. Still clothed in his briefs, the head of his cock is trying to push free, leaving a wet patch in the soft black cotton.

I lift my head, staring at it, at the outline of his rock-hard cock and the bulge of his balls in the tight briefs, breathless and needing… needing him.

But not yet. This is about him, not me. And even though I had my doubts when I offered, I don’t have them anymore. Not when he’s looking at me with wide eyes, his body straining up, toward me, when my every light touch and kiss makes him arch like he’s never been touched before.

As I lick a trail down to his navel, I encounter quite a few invisible scars, rough patches that intrigue me. I brush my fingertips over the clothed head of his erection, and he hisses between his teeth. I dip my tongue into the small indentation of his bellybutton, then drag the elastic of his briefs down an inch and pepper the pale skin stretching over his hip with kisses.

His scent of musk is strong down here, and his cock twitches, imprisoned in the fabric. I lay my cheek on his hip and lift the top of his briefs, ogling his hard-on.

Never knew a man’s engorged cock could be so beautiful. So erotic. It shifts as I gaze at it, thick and long and flushed, darker than the rest of him, pulsing veins twisting around it. Never felt this irresistible urge to touch and lick and taste.

The only sound is his harsh breathing. The roughly-hewn muscles in his thighs tremble, his abs tighten as I peel his briefs down, slowly, carefully, unwrapping him.

His cock springs free, bobbing over his hard stomach, and he jerks and gasps, his hands fisting in the covers, his hips rolling.

Wow. His hard-on is so much bigger than it had seemed. Frigging huge. Striking.

Kind of intimidating.

Powerful, too—knowing I’m the one doing this to him, that he has no way of hiding just how aroused he is. How much he’s enjoying it.

Hot.

I let go of the fabric of his briefs, leaving it bunched-up under his crotch, and walk my fingertips up, over his balls. They roll under my touch, and his cock jolts and bounces, leaking on his stomach. Breathless, I cup his balls, feel their weight, lift them slightly and lean down to place a kiss on them, nuzzling the base of his cock. I lick the warm skin, and he jerks and sits up.

I still, looking up at him, wondering if I hurt him by mistake, or if it’s too much.

“Fuck. No one’s ever done this…” His teeth are clenched and he’s panting hard, sweat glistening on his face and chest, rolling in shiny paths down his neck. “Dammit, Embers.” He flops back down on the pillows with that look of wonder on his face that makes my chest tight. “Feels so fucking good.”

That’s all the encouragement I need. I smile at him from where I’m half-lying on him, draped over his thigh, and take my time tracing his balls and cock with my fingers and tongue and lips, until he’s moaning and twisting on the bed, those impressive muscles in his legs and chest bunching and rippling.

God, how crazy is it that I want to rub myself all over him like a cat in heat? He’s so frigging sexy. I tug down his briefs over his knees and all the way off, and he’s lying there, a sculpted statue of male beauty, the ink on his arm and pec the only splash of color. His eyes glimmer, gray-green, as he watches me under his lashes, his mouth slightly ajar as he pants softly.

Waiting to see what I’ll do next. His eagerness, and the knowledge I’m the first to play this game of pleasure with him makes me bold.

“So nobody has done this to you before?” I return my hand to his balls, rolling them, and blow on his hard shaft.

He shivers and groans. “Fuck, no.”

“This?” I lick slowly up his cock until I reach the flared head. He tastes salty and subtly sweet.

“No.” His voice is strangled, and his hands clench and unclench. “God, can’t…” He lifts his hips, and his cock brushes my jaw when I draw back. It’s burning hot, flushed dark and wet. “You’re killing me, kitten. Fucking Hell.”

I close my hand around the base of his cock, and his whole body tenses and arches. His balls pull up, and he grunts something that might have been my name. He’s panting like he’s run a marathon. His head is thrown back, the tendons in his neck straining.

Although I’ve had my release already thanks to his skilled hand, I’m on fire. It’s as if my every touch on his body echoes in mine.

I lick the underside of his cock, his musky, salty taste exploding on my tongue. He groans like he’s in pain, and he reaches for his hard-on. His bigger hands wraps around mine and together we stroke him as I explore with my mouth the head of his cock and the small, leaking slit.

“Embers, dammit…” That’s all the warning I get before he grabs my arm with his other hand and hauls me up, on top of him. Between our bodies, our hands are trapped around his hardness.

I feel the moment he comes undone, feel his cock jerk, his hot seed splash on my chest and his. His cry bounces off the walls of my room, his body shakes and twists as if he’s trying to get away from the pleasure, as if it’s too much.

More heat floods the space between us, and it’s so hot, so sexy pleasurable spasms go through me—an orgasm distantly echoing his. He crushes his mouth to mine as I moan, tastes himself on my tongue, and our bodies move and slide together.

Later, after I grab a handful of tissues from my bedside table and clean us up, when his body finally uncoils and relaxes, I pull the covers up over us and he pulls me close, wraps his arms around me until I’m half-sprawled over him. He tucks my head under his chin and holds me as sleep steals over me.

Crap… He has tugged on every single heartstring I own. How am I supposed to not fall for him after this?

***

I wake up to the feel of warm lips on mine. Gasping, I untangle my mind from a dream of lying in bed with gorgeous Jesse Lee… and find myself looking into Jesse Lee’s eyes.

Not a dream.

Whoa.

His hard-on pokes me in the stomach, hot and stiff, leaving a trail of moisture. I remember touching it, tasting it, and my core clenches with desire at the memory. I’d love to curl my hand around it, to lick and tease, to hear him groan, see him lose control.

But he doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t let me catch my breath. His hand slides up, cradles the back of my head while his tongue does wicked things to mine, stroking and thrusting and tangling. Turning me on until the blood in my veins burns and my breasts ache, tight and swollen, pressed to the hard planes of his chest.

He kisses me until I’m moving against him, until I throw one leg over his, trying to relieve the aching pressure inside of me.

In a sudden move, he grabs me and rolls me under him, keeping his mouth fused with mine. His weight presses lightly on me, because he keeps himself propped up on both hands, doing a funny little push-up while lying over me, his hardness pressing between my legs.

His teeth scrape lightly on my lower lip, and lightning bolts of arousal go straight through me, until I think I’ll go crazy. I need to feel him inside me, and holy shit, since when am I so desperate for a boy? Never happened before. None of this has ever happened before.

I’m falling hard. Tumbling head over heels. And I should stop myself before I crash.

He releases my tingling mouth and presses our foreheads together, his cock sliding back and forth on my stomach, warm and wet. “Shit, I need… need you.” He pulls back, his gaze colliding with mine, dark with desire, raw and earnest.

Don’t read anything into what he says, my mind warns. He just wants to fuck—and that’s what I want, too, so why not? We are both adults.

Another notch on his bedpost. Last night it all seemed like a dream, but now? Do you really want to do this to yourself, Amber? Offer your body, offer your heart, only to have it throw away come tomorrow?

He rolls his hips, his very naked, muscular and aroused body gliding against mine, and rational thought flees. A shiver goes through him. He lowers himself on one elbow and uses his freed hand to trace my breasts and toy with my stiff nipples, then to touch me between my legs.

An incoherent moan escapes me when he finds my clit and presses down, his mouth curling up in a faint smile—that faint smile I love so much, the one that reaches his eyes.

“Need you, too,” I pant and fumble between us, finding his hard cock and gripping it. “Inside me.”

In case there was any misunderstanding.

“Dammit, kitten.” He dips his head back down, mouth hovering over mine as he rocks into my hand. “Condoms.”

“I’m on the pill.” I try to catch my breath as he fingerfucks me slowly, a counter rhythm to the increasingly frantic movement of his hips. “Please.”

He growls deep in his chest, draws his fingers out and replaces them with the head of his cock. His eyes turn to dusky emerald as he pushes into me, inch by delicious inch.

I cry out, clutching at his shoulders. So big, stretching me, filling me so completely I shift to ease the burn. I push and pull on his shoulders, unable to say what I need.

Then he plants his hands on either side of me and starts to move. The play of muscles on his chest and arms is impressive, but what draws my eyes even more is the look on his face, his mouth slack with pleasure, his eyes hazed, and in them a flicker of fire.

He draws out an inch or two, slams back in, and it’s all I can not to close my eyes as pleasure floods me. It runs in rivulets down my nerve endings, achingly sharp, incredibly strong, a rising wave that begins deep inside my core and spills over, rushing over my body.

I’m drowning. He thrusts faster now, small grunting sounds leaving his throat, and the drag and pull on my sensitive folds, on the nub of my clit, against my inner walls, is maddening. Toe-curling good. Amazing.

The pressure is building up fast, and I can’t help the moans and cries spilling from my mouth. Never thought I’d be so vocal during sex. Guess I was wrong. About so many things.

About being able to resist him, for starters.

And now oh God, he’s changing his movements, circling his hips, torturing me. He shifts his weight on one hand so he can grab my leg and pull it up, around his hip, so he can push deeper into me, slam harder.

Pleasure unfurls where he’s thrusting into me, the dam breaks, and I cry out his name as I come in exquisite spasms. My vision goes black at the edges as I tighten around him. My nails leaves gouges in his shoulders, my body out of control, grinding against him, his hard cock drawing the orgasm out until I think I’ll pass out from the sensations racing through me.

“Goddamn.” His teeth grit, and his movements grow jerky and uneven, his hold on the back of my thigh bruising. “You feel so good. So tight. Christ. I’m gonna blow, can’t stop…”

I clench around him, turned on beyond words as I watch him come apart. “I want to see you come.”

“Oh fuck…” His mouth falls open, eyes fluttering close, his hips rolling so fast the sound of flesh hitting flesh fills the room. “God, I fucking love you.”

His cock swells impossibly big inside me, forcing another cry of pleasure out of me, before his orgasm hits. His hot cum splashes inside me, triggering another mini orgasm, and he buries his face in my neck as he shudders, his whole body jerking as he comes hard.

I cling to him, riding along the waves of his release, wondering if one can die of pleasure, and all the while what he said rings inside my head in a loop, deafening any other thought.

“Fucking love you.”

He doesn’t mean it. He barely knows me, and besides, it’s just sex talk. Bet he says that to all the girls. Bet he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. Bet he won’t remember it in five minutes.

But I will.

***

“What are you making?”

His voice behind me startles me enough that I drop the towel I’m using to dry my hands. I turn around quickly and lean back against the kitchen counter.

“Breakfast.” I swallow against my nervousness, my palms slipping on the counter edge. “You know, what people eat in the morning.”

His mouth tilts up in a sexy grin, and I have to consciously close my gaping mouth and drag my gaze away—but man, a half-naked Jesse live in my kitchen sure is a breathtaking sight. In the slanting morning light pouring through the window, his bare chest seems cast in gold and copper, the sculpted muscles of his arms look unreal. He’s wearing his baseball cap backward, and with his eyes gleaming as he takes in the signs of my cooking efforts spread over the table, he looks achingly young and happy.

Also damn hot, and I resist the urge to fidget and giggle. Giggle! Me. No way. After all, we did spend the night together, and I’ve kissed my way down his awesome body, tasted him, had him inside of me.

No giggling is allowed, and I should look as relaxed and laid back as he is. Only problem is, he’s probably done this a million times—slept with a girl and then proceeded to act as if nothing has happened. Okay, so he said he’s never done this before, this sleeping-in-a-bed, taking-the-time-to-lick-and-taste thing, but can I trust him?

Not sure, no matter how cute he is. How devastatingly handsome he is.

Crap.

“Can you show me?” He lets his arms fall loosely to his sides, and my gaze dips to his low-slung, faded jeans. This isn’t one of the pairs we bought together. Nope, these are old and soft, worn almost transparent in places. One big rip shows me his tanned knee.

How can I be ready to jump back into bed with him when I was in his arms—and pinned underneath him, writhing in pleasure—less than an hour ago? He’s turning me into a nympho.

Totally his fault.

“It’s a recipe my dad likes to make when I’m home.” And speaking of which, I should call them, see how they’re doing. They were thinking about coming to visit. “It’s breakfast muffin cups.”

“Sweet, huh?” He leans over the bowl where I’ve mixed the ingredients. “Like cake?”

“No, these are salty. You make the basic mixture with flour and eggs and milk, but you can add cheese and ham and bits of dried tomato. Never had them?”

“Show me how to make them.” He’s looking at me eagerly, his eyes shining. “I wanna learn.”

I open my mouth to ask if he’s kidding me—boys in my experience aren’t really into cooking—but I recall what he told me, about having a kitchen for the first time and wanting to learn how to prepare food.

“Sure. I’ll show you.” I grab the silicon baking molds and the spoon, then gesture for him to take a seat. “I can give you the ingredients and quantities. You mix them up well, and then you preheat the oven. Pour the mixture into these molds,” I demonstrate, filling one after another, “shove them into the oven and wait until they turn golden and crispy on top.”

“Let me try.” He reaches for the bowl and spoon, and I pass them to him. He fills the molds, his eyes lighting up in delight.

I turn my face away. Weird how this moves me. I get a feeling I’m seeing a side of him nobody has ever seen. That he has let down his defenses and is trusting me not to mock him.

If anyone can understand that fear, it’s me.

We put the cups into the preheated oven, and as soon as I turn around, he backs me up against the counter, his warm breath ghosting over my mouth.

“I have to go to Damage Control,” he says, and it takes me a moment to understand the words, fixated as I am on the green-blue of his eyes and the shape of his body pressed to mine. “Training. Zane wants to talk to me, too.”

That’s it, I think dazedly. This is when he says I’ll be seeing you around, that we can be friends and it was nice, thanks. Maybe that’s why he’s been showing me this disarmingly boyish side of him. He wants to be friends with me.

Not that this makes a lick of sense—I mean, why the heck would a guy as sexy and popular as Jesse want to be friends with me?—but my brain is off to la-la land with him so close and personal and in my space.

Probably also why I miss most of what he’s saying, until the word “wedding” catches my attention.

“Holy crap, I forgot about the wedding.” For about twelve blissful hours—the length of time Jesse has been here. “Shit.”

“Christ, the idea really scares you, doesn’t it?”

So close, I can’t hide from him.

“I have a bad feeling about it.” Then again I always do, when it comes to social gatherings. “I don’t have good memories from parties.”

“Time to make new ones then.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” The words spill out of me, my mouth going too fast for my brain to catch up. “Meeting up with girls at parties, have them suck you off is your way of making new memories?”

His grin fades. “And if it is?”

“Are you serious now?”

“What do you want me to say?” He pulls away, his jaw clenching. “It fucking worked until I met you. I thought it worked, anyway. I thought that what it was all about, and it was a damn deal better than having sex with older women for a few bucks.”

“And that’s supposed to make this any better?”

Holy crap. Don’t know why I can’t stop the words from falling from my mouth. Is it hormones—is it that time of the month already? I can’t whip up any conscious thinking to put a brake on my insecurities pouring out, disguised as accusations.

He rubs the back of his head and resettles his cap. The light in his eyes has dimmed. “Embers…”

Why am I trying to hurt him? I think I want him to get it over with—tell me it’s over, tell me the truth.

So I do it instead. “Are you going back to that? To making new memories with girls at parties? Are we just friends now?”

“Dammit, we aren’t friends.” His hands fist at his sides. “I can’t be friends with you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you too fucking much.”

I nod, my throat tight, both relieved and disappointed. It’s just about sex, and I knew it, so why am I feeling so shitty right now? “Right.”

He sighs. “Hell, Embers, what do you want me to say?”

“The truth. That’s all. ”

I hear the door of Kayla’s bedroom creak open, and he hears it, too. He freezes for a second, then takes a step toward me.

“I want you. And I like you. I’ve never felt this way before, okay? I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I’ve never had a girlfriend, for God’s sakes.”

A shiver wracks me. “What are you saying, JJ?”

“I’m saying…” He lifts a hand to my face, strokes his knuckles over my cheek, and his lashes lower, shadowing his gaze. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here. Can’t we take it one step at a time? Let me take you to the wedding.”

“Okay,” I whisper and wonder if I’ve lost my mind completely for agreeing to this. “The wedding.”

And then we’ll see in how many pieces I can shatter.