Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(90)
Adam positioned himself between my thighs while kissing me fervently. He stared at me with such intense reverence while he rolled the condom on. My breath hitched from the slight pinch as he entered me.
Adam stilled, bracing himself above me. “You okay?”
I nodded, pulling him in tighter.
He lowered over me, wrapping me in the protective hold of his arms. Nose to nose, he kissed me, breathing hard with me, making his mark on my body and my heart with each stroke.
“You feel so f*cking good,” he whispered on my throat, his hand lifting my rear to angle in deeper. I wrapped my legs around his hips, gripping his muscular shoulders to keep him buried within me.
I’d had other lovers before but none of them compared to what I was feeling for Adam. He gazed at me so intently, making every stroke, every grind of his hips, every sensual touch and languid kiss seem like an unbreakable promise. He stilled inside me, making love to my mouth instead.
This wasn’t just sex.
I’d had plenty of just sex over the years with a few select men who made me feel more like a receptacle than a counterpart. The way Adam was constantly gazing directly in my eyes, the way he poured his entire existence into being with me, was so vastly different from anything I’d experienced before.
No, this wasn’t just sex.
This was the physical manifestation of an unspoken vow.
Adam kissed me one last time and then slowly withdrew, leaving an aching void in more places than I cared to admit. He moved next to me and onto his back, urging me to straddle him, and pulled my mouth back to his.
In one move, he’d surrendered and given me all of the control, to take whatever I wanted, whatever I needed from him on my own terms. He met me beat for beat, going slow or pounding into me, grinding deep while he worked my hips back and forth. Whatever I asked for, he gave it to me.
Adam’s hand cinched around my wrists, binding me like an iron shackle. He pressed my hands flat to his chest, holding me in place, while his thumb rubbed me. Within moments, the quickening accelerated, taking my breath away as the pressure built. I gasped. “Adam.”
“Not yet, babe,” he uttered, sitting up abruptly, taking me with him.
He rolled us over, adjusted us onto our sides, pressing my spine to his chest. Strong, thick arms with killer braided-rope tattoos wrapped around me, holding me fast, while tender lips made their way up and down my neck.
And then he was back inside me, wrapping his arm under my knee, taking his fill and filling me all at the same time.
“Look at me,” he ordered, drifting his command over the shell of my ear. I turned my head, wrapped my hand around his neck, and he took my mouth and my heart all in one swoop.
Adam’s large hand fanned over my pubic bone, pressing down, tilting my pelvis while the tips of his fingers played a perfect melody.
He was everywhere all at once. Lips, tongue, fingers, weaving his way around my soul, touching me in places inside where I’d never been touched before. New sensations struck me, seizing all the oxygen in my lungs. I grasped his shoulder, at every part of him I could hold on to, unable to breathe, unable to think. I felt split apart and slammed back together as the massive orgasm struck and rolled throughout my body.
“That’s it, baby,” he said, railing into me with everything he had.
Adam let out a lengthy groan, stuttering into me, following me over the edge. His warm breath fanned over my neck, up over my cheek, cooling wherever it touched the trickles of sweat beading on my skin.
I held on, clutching his damp head to me. Our breathing came out in labored, winded pants, while the final tremors rippled throughout our bodies.
His fingers drifted over my cheek and tangled up into my hair. His adoring gaze and loving expression gave way to the possibility of having a future with someone—something I hadn’t dared to hope for in a very long time.
In that moment, hope didn’t seem so out of reach. Neither did the possibility of falling in love.
His hips pressed up one more time, a final message that he was still very much in me, owning me. His mouth quirked up into a pleased smile. I couldn’t help but relish how gentle he was with me. Even his kisses were sweet. “You good?”
I swallowed the dryness forming in my throat and drifted my fingers over the tiny birthmark near the corner of his eye, up through his tousled hair, trying to find the words that could encompass all that I was feeling. I opted for a simple, “I’m very good. And you?”
“I’m definitely good.” He placed another tender kiss on my lips and shifted, slipping out of me.
I rolled to face him, needing to cuddle up with him and share this incredibly intimate moment. We lay there in silence for a long time, drifting, smiling, Adam softly stroking my cheek. Then his eyes narrowed, seeming to concentrate on the spot under his fingertips. His breathing changed and his lips drew together and something that resembled sadness or frustration etched his demeanor.
And then he rolled out of bed.
The sudden loss of his body heat caused a chill to snake over my skin. Being this exposed, all sprawled out in the middle of his bed, was also causing self-conscious discomfort. I searched the floor and snagged up his T-shirt, trying not to gawk at his incredible shape while he discarded the used condom in his bathroom.
I sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for what felt like ten minutes, slowly morphing from post-coital bliss to confused concern, watching his head hang down as he leaned hard on his bathroom vanity in the dark. Body language usually spoke truths that the mouth was unwilling to admit and something equally as dark had just taken him over.