All Jacked Up (Rough Riders #8)(41)

Water swirled around her knees. Spray from the showerhead left a fine mist on her skin. She sucked and swallowed, blindly reaching for the sides of the tub to find her balance.


Jack kept one hand fisted in her hair. The other hand cupped her jaw as he thrust in and out of her mouth. Fast. Then slow. But always deep. He hissed when she used her teeth.


His slippery cock was too waterlogged to discern the masculine flavor that was uniquely his. Keely relaxed her throat and angled her head, allowing him deeper entry. She simply lost herself to the moment of pleasing a demanding man. Pleasing herself by holding nothing back from him.


He murmured encouragement but didn’t take it easy on her. Jack f*cked her mouth how he wanted.


Not asking. Taking.


It was hot as hell.


When his strokes became less practiced and more frantic, Keely increased her sucking power, preparing herself to swallow every burst of semen.


But Jack pulled out, grunting, “Don’t move.” Keeping one hand in her hair and fisting his cock in his other hand, Jack beat off, directing the spray of come onto her chest. His wild eyes never strayed from his intimate marking until the last spurt. He aimed that one at her face. Come splattered her lips and chin. Her tongue darted out to taste and Jack nearly roared his pleasure.


Keely almost came right then.


After Jack stopped shaking, he helped her up and let the shower spray warm her.


She tipped her head back, engrossed in the sensation of hot water pouring over her cooled skin as the evidence of Jack’s passion flowed from her. Keely imagined Jack’s rough hands mapping her body as painstakingly as the streaming water. She didn’t open her eyes, speak or move.


I trust you. Do with me what you will.


Jack sensed her acquiescence. He held her wrists behind her back in his left hand, cupping her breast, switching sides when she moaned softly. He flattened his palm, slicking it over her belly, between her hipbones to the rise of her mound. The same time two fingers breached the wet opening to her *, he latched onto her left nipple and sucked hard.


At that point Keely’s knees buckled.


He chuckled against the upper swell of her breast and began a full out sensual assault.


His tongue rasped her nipples. As his fingers f*cked her, his thumb flicked her clit, barely there and then persistent. He’d bite down on her nipple. Suckle the sting. When she started to anticipate the pattern, he changed it.


Bastard.


It drove her mad. She loved it. She hated it.


Jack’s rapid exhalations across her wet skin brought forth another full-body shiver. “You ready to come for me now, cowgirl?”


Keely couldn’t seem to find her voice. She nodded.


His mouth was on her ear. “Now I know exactly how to make you speechless.” Jack’s hair brushed her jaw, throat and breastbone as he licked the water trickling to her nipples. He ruthlessly suckled her, impaled her on his clever fingers and stroked her clit.


She threw back her head and screamed as every nerve ending between her breasts and her * throbbed in orgasmic harmony.


He held on.


After she floated back from the realm of bliss, she blinked the water from her eyes and looked at Jack.


Smiling, he pushed wet hanks of her hair over her shoulder. His finger traced the vein still pounding wildly in her throat. “Good thing I put in a bigger water heater.” Jack brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll let you finish your shower.” Then he was gone.


Keely felt too relaxed to waste brain cells fretting about how quickly the power had shifted in their relationship. Or deluding herself she’d ever had any power at all.


Jack filled her favorite mug with his precious coffee. He scrambled her brain with a prolonged good morning kiss. He even made the bed.


Guys were total putty after a blowjob.


Keely braided her hair in a single plait. She zipped a ripped pair of Levis, buttoned a faded flannel shirt over a long john top, and slipped on her oldest pair of ropers.


She exited the bedroom and saw Jack perched on the edge of the couch, papers strewn across the coffee table. His hair was mussed from repeatedly running his fingers through it—a sign of frustration.


Jack looked up and his gaze swept over her.


She braced herself for a “country bumpkin” comment and crafted a couple of snappy comebacks. But she needn’t have bothered.


He merely inquired, “Where are you off to?”


“My folks’ place. They’re out making the rounds on Sunday and it’s the only time I can exercise my horse. Then I do whatever needs done in the barn as payment for boarding Rosa.”


“Rosa?”


“Rosamonde’s Red Dream is her official name, but I call her Rosa.”


He sagged into the sofa cushions. “I had a horse when I was growing up. Buster. I thought he was the coolest thing ever. Drove my dad crazy that all I ever wanted to do on the farm was ‘ride that damn horse’.


He got rid of it the week after I left for college.”


Keely gasped. “So you came home and your horse was gone?”


“Yeah. No big deal. I’d moved on by then, in many ways.”