Block Shot (Hoops #2)(68)

I want it too much.

I crave the deliberate seduction, the methodical, plunging, sweeping stroke of his tongue over mine. He angles me, fits his lips over mine, controlling the pace and depth of the kiss, standing and flipping our positions. He hoists me by my waist onto the cluttered desk surface and inch by inch, urges my skirt higher and higher until the hem collects at my waist. With a glance down at the triangle of black silk between my thighs, he groans, falls to his knees, raining kisses on my stomach through my blouse. The hot, wet suction of his mouth at my breast penetrates the flimsy layers of silk.

I can’t form the words that would stop him. Maybe I could have before he slid down my belly and buried his nose in my panties. I like to think I could have before he dragged the black silk down my thighs and past my stilettos. But I’ll never be sure. Because he did those things, and then he pressed me open wider and separated the lips of my pussy and sucked my clit.

“Ahhh.” A rumbling starts at my center, the warning tremors of Pompeii. A premonition of ruin. “Jared . . . Oh, God.”

His mouth never leaves me, but he presses one big hand between my breasts until my back hits the desk and my legs dangle over its side. Then he opens me like a flower, peeling back the petals and flattening his tongue against me, his mouth hungry, thirsty, needy, and my body surrendering every response he demands. His is unrelenting worship, and I’m his altar. I stretch my arms down, knotting my fingers in his hair and caressing the rugged beauty of his face. His jaw flexes under my fingers with the ardor, the wondrous labor of his mouth between my legs.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

It’s an order. It’s a plea. It’s a breathless incantation tumbling past my lips in cadence with my hips thrusting into his face. I’m at the precipice, peering over the edge into an unlit well—a mystery my body begs to solve. Jared adds his finger, a thumb inside of me, while his mouth lavishes that bud of nerves that has become the center of my existence.

And I tip over.

I fall headlong into a wave of unmitigated pleasure that shakes my body. Entirely. Not a cell, an atom, a molecule is left intact when the orgasm touches down on my body like a tornado. Bones, flesh, muscle, sinew, blood. Insecurities, fears, reservations—everything I’m comprised of dissolves. I squeeze his head between my knees. I twist his hair in my hands. My body is wholly selfish, consumed by and taking the pleasure he promised.

“God, Banner.” Jared laps at the wetness inside my left thigh and grips my legs. “Better than I remembered.”

He rises from kneeling. Looms over me, pinning me to the desk with one hand and one look. The supplicant becomes the master, but I’ve marked him, wreaked the same havoc on him that he wreaked on me. I’ve twisted his hair into gilded chaos. I’ve poured myself over his lips and left them wet, shiny. I’ve never felt so possessive of anything in my life as I do when I see myself all over Jared Foster, but the hard set of his lips, the storm in his stare tells me it’s his turn.

Our eyes remain locked while he undoes his pants, the belt buckle jangling and the zip hissing in the deserted office. There is no way back, and as much as I know guilt, condemnation, shame await me on the other side, I can’t turn around. I want to rush ahead with him. He jerks me by my thighs to the edge of the desk.

“You have to say it.” The rough timber of his voice calls the hairs on my arms to attention. “Tell me yes.”

Ragged breath. Feral gaze. Dick like a brick against my thigh. He is the picture of primitive male, demanding entrance, but still offers me one last chance to escape. I know I should. I’ll regret this. I close my eyes and see Zo’s dear face, hear his voice saying he loves me, but it’s not enough. It’s never been enough, and my only sin was not telling him, not facing the truth that I don’t love him that way. That was my only sin.

Until now. Now I add another.

“Yes.”

The whisper barely clears my lips before Jared’s inside me. I’m translated from one state—empty, yearning—to another. Completely full. My walls strain to accommodate the girth of his passion. He’s big and aggressive. He does me like he does all things, ruthlessly, mercilessly. He pushes his hand under my blouse, traverses my belly, captures my breast and squeezes hard, his thumb scraping the nipple again and again in harmony with each thrust.

“Shit.” My startled curse is accompanied by my body contracting around him.

Loose papers rustle beneath me on the desk every time he pounds into me. He grabs my knees to anchor us, to hold me still while he plunders with no end in sight. Long, languorous strokes turn short, frantic the longer he goes. Jared tips his head back, the strong column of his throat working as he loses himself in the pleasure of these treasonous moments.

I want to touch him. I have to kiss him. I sit up, our bodies still joined, an unbroken line of carnality, and slide my fingers into the cool, shorn curls at his nape. He immediately takes my mouth captive. The kiss tastes desperate. Urgency tinges his touch along my thigh, climbing my torso and squeezing my face.

“Don’t regret this, Banner,” he says fiercely. “You don’t get to regret this.”

I drop my forehead to his, already crying even as another orgasm builds from the center of my body and fans out over every limb and extremity.

“I can’t promise I won’t regret it.” Tears slip over my cheeks and between our lips, sealing our kiss. “Only that right now, I have to have it. I have to have you.”