Powerless (Chestnut Springs, #3)(67)

I take her mouth, clutching her naked body to me, wishing I could go back in time and tell her everything when I first started feeling it. But I’ll settle for right now since it’s the best I’ve got.

The kiss starts off with us clamping our mouths together, needing to be joined, but quickly turns frantic. It takes on an edge of frustration as her teeth nip at my bottom lip and her hands grapple with the hem of my shirt.

It’s pulled off and discarded within seconds. And then I’m standing, lifting her small body with me and taking a couple of steps across the kitchen.

With one swipe of my arm, everything on the island flies onto the floor with a loud clatter. Fruit. A bowl. A magazine. My glass of water lands on the opposite side of the room and shatters into a thousand tiny pieces against the hardwood floor. The perfectly clean cottage turned upside down in mere seconds.

None of that shit matters because legs wrap around my waist. Lips pepper kisses all over my face, down my neck. Fingers tug at my hair. She’s attacking me with a fervor I’ve never experienced.

One I’ve never felt inclined to match until her.

Sex has always been a game. Another event for me to control. But there’s nothing in control about us right now.

And I don’t even care.

I lie her back on the island, wanting to explore her. She hisses and her back arches away from the cold marble, pushing her perfect tits up in the process.

I don’t know where to look first, but like always, it’s her eyes that catch my attention. All those blues. My gaze travels down the slender line of her neck and detours to the stray strands of soft blonde hair that are plastered to her wet, puffy lips.

My hands slide over her waist, shaping it, and I revel in how big my hands look wrapped around her. I cup her breasts, the perfect size to grip.

I squeeze and flick a thumb over her pointed nipples, noting the way her back arches again when I do. “You like that?”

“Yesss,” she hisses, eyes closed now, tongue darting out over her lips in the most distracting way. I can’t wait to see how they look wrapped around my cock.

But first, I keep sliding my hands up her body, noting the way gooseflesh crops up in my wake. When I get to her shoulders, I trace fingers over the line of her collarbone while the other had continues moving up and wraps around that pretty, slender throat. The way she carries herself is always so regal.

I’ve dreamed about wrapping a hand here.

So I do.

I squeeze, but not too hard, leaning down over her, giving the lobe of her ear a quick nip before asking, “What about that, Sloane? Do you like that?”

“Yes.”

Her sure response is a shot of electricity straight to my cock. My fingers press a bit harder, and I watch her cheeks turn a soft red. Her legs clamp tighter around my waist. I ease off and drop my lips to hers, stroking her neck softly before I kiss my way back down to her breasts. Her nails slide up my back, over my shoulders, and down my arms reverently.

I start soft with one nipple, licking and kissing, getting off on the way she moans and squirms. The way her nails dig into my skin—just a little bit feral.

And then I give it one hard pull, grazing my teeth as I go. It’s the way she gasps and bucks that really gets me.

“So sensitive,” I murmur, moving to the other side and giving her the same treatment. I get her comfortable and then lay in with a little pressure. A little bite.

Her nails tangle in my hair and scratch at my scalp.

Then I’m licking my way down her stomach. She squirms as I slide my tongue just beneath the line of her hip bone, so I spend extra time exploring. When I drag my teeth there, she makes a whining noise.

I plant a palm in the middle of her chest and press her down. “Lie still, Sloane. Let me enjoy myself.”

“Fuck you, Jasper,” she huffs and wiggles harder.

I chuckle and move my hand back around her neck. “You will be, Sunny. Just not until I say so.”





26

Sloane


I make that same damn noise when he moves to the opposite hip. I never knew this was a sensitive spot for me, but Jasper homed in on it instantly. My pulse thumps under the palm of his hand. It speeds up when his teeth drag over my hip bone, and his grip around my throat tightens every time I move.

Heat suffuses every limb. My pulse thrums everywhere. I’ve never focused entirely on one thing except for when I’m dancing. But I am now. My mind doesn’t wander to my to-do list or the next episode of my favorite show. It stays on Jasper and the way he’s playing my body like an instrument he’s known his entire life. Like a virtuoso.

As much time as I’ve spent having sex with Jasper in my head, I didn’t expect him to do things to me I’ve only read about, or watched, but never had the nerve to ask for. Not sure the boys I dated would have indulged me anyway.

But Jasper isn’t a boy. He’s a man.

His hand moves away from my throat, and I almost want to beg him to put it back. He trails it down the center of my body, then taps on my hip bone and says, “Now spread these pretty thighs for me.”

My heart rate ratchets up when I catch his eye in the softly lit kitchen.

He’s not brooding Jasper right now, and he’s not sweet Jasper either.

He’s . . . I don’t know. I don’t recognize this look, but I like it. I love it. I especially love being on the receiving end of it