Rising (Blue Phoenix, #4)(67)

I love the hoarseness of Jem’s voice, the way he looks at me when I’m turning him on. The feel of his hard-on against me, his heat, touch, kiss… everything Jem. What we have is real, an intense physical need for each other that pushes colour into our world.

“Okay, I’ll stop. Pass my t-shirt.” I swing my leg to climb off Jem but he grips my hips and holds me in place.

“Um. No.”

I giggle and fight to climb off him, but he wraps his arms around my waist in a vice-like grip, mouth on my b-reasts. As he sucks on my nipple, I gasp and dig my nails into his back.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he says as he pulls away again.

“Really?” I run my fingers into his hair, holding his curls so he can’t put his mouth back on me.

“Really.” Jem stands and I hook my arms and legs around him, expecting Jem to take me back to the bedroom. Instead, he backs me against the wall of the house and presses against me.

The bricks scrape my back and I wince. “Ow! Jem… That hurts; you’re not doing this here.”

Jem doesn’t reply and glances around, his hold on me firm. The remnants of our meal rest on the smooth marble table nearby, plates and glasses, a half empty bowl of salad. Jem strides over, and one arm around my waist, he pushes everything to one side and sets me on the table.

“Here.” Before I can respond, Jem covers my body with his, eager mouth and hands harsher than usual as he pushes me backward against the hard surface. I gasp as he nips at my neck, runs his hands across my b-reasts, and rolls my nipples beneath his fingers, hands not leaving me for a second.

I’d protest about being outside, and so exposed in the fading sunlight, but Jem switches everything off but the need for more. He pulls my legs to the edge of the table and opens them; pressing against me, his jeans and my panties barriers I don’t want. I make an involuntary sound in my throat and wrap a leg around his waist pulling him closer. In response, Jem slides his hand up the inner thigh of my other leg, parting them further.

“f-ucking gorgeous,” he says and runs a finger along my panties. I suck air through my teeth, the barrier too much. Jem silently agrees, hooks his fingers around the edge, and pulls them down, the black lace rough against my thigh as he does.

As I kick them off, I sit and quickly unbutton his jeans, pulling out his cock. I run my fingers along the hard length, circling my hand around the base. Jem groans, fingers finding my wet centre, and I cry out as he pushes one into me, then shoves me back onto the table, so I’m forced to let go of him. Gazing down, Jem slides his finger out and rubs along the seam of my sex, thumbing my c-lit. I squirm, at the intensity of the touch and discomfort at Jem seeing me so clearly, so exposed.

“f-uck, you look…” Jem swallows and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom.

As he opens the foil, I watch as he slides the condom on. Before I decide whether to help, he’s done; the thick tip of his cock already against my sensitive flesh. Jem watches as he slides himself along me, breath ragged.

I sink back, head against the cool marble and look up at the emerging stars, the ones in the sky and my mind, my chest tightening as my breath shortens too.

“I want to go slow, but I f-ucking can’t.” Jem’s voice is hoarser and he places a hand on the table next to me, leaning down to kiss my face.

“It’s…” I barely get the words out and Jem plunges into me, hard and fast, stretching, and filling me. There’s more friction than usual, I’m turned on; but without as much attention from Jem, I’m not as aroused as usual. “f-uck!”

“You okay?” He stills.

“Yes!” I push my hips against him. “Don’t stop.”

Jem moves back and places his hand on my stomach, then pulls out, sliding in again teasingly slow. “This looks so f-ucking hot,” he says, breathlessly, unable to look away from where we meet.

I shift and grip Jem with my legs, partly because I want him to stop staring at me, but also because the tighter they wrap around him, the more intense the sensation. Jem pulls my leg up, thrusting hard and pushing against the spot that guarantees me a place in the stars. I moan and Jem takes this as his green light, pounding into me hard and fast, propelling me to the magic place and tearing away any remaining shyness about being screwed in the open air by Jem. I can’t hold back the groans I normally try to, and I get louder as the tingling spreads through me, pushing me closer to the building orgasm.

Jem stops.

“Don’t do this again!” I complain, propping myself up on one elbow to give him a filthy look.

Jem grins then puts his thumb in his mouth, wetting the tip, not speaking. As soon as he touches my sensitive c-lit, I don’t care that he’s stopped. His thumb jolts the hardwiring that sparks into every nerve ending. He slowly thrusts into me again, smug smile on his face.

I gaze at Jem as he watches what he’s doing, mouth parted. He responds to each sound I make, joining me with noises of appreciation as he carefully moves in and out. This is torture, I attempt to cling him to me again, but he pushes down against my thigh. “Come for me, Ruby,” he says, hooded eyes on mine. He licks his thumb, making a noise of pleasure before rubbing me again.

The sensation blinds, taking me by surprise and I shout out his name. Immediately, Jem removes his hand and grips my ass, thrusting into me harder and faster as I climax around him, pleasure pulsing through as my tight grip on him intensifies with each push. Jem’s fingers dig harder into my skin, breathing heavier as he swears repeatedly under his breath; eyes closed until he pushes himself to the hilt one last time and let’s go a shout of his own.