Rock Bottom Girl(79)

“If it’s half of what you’re doing to me, I’d say you’re in deep shit,” I guessed.

His green eyes softened for a beat, and then he was leaning over me and pressing a kiss to my mouth. It wasn’t hurried or frantic, but it still had the same effect. His erection prodded at my entrance while his lips gently ravaged my mouth.

He pulled back, still hovering over me. His expression soft, affectionate. He looked like he was going to tell me something I’d treasure for the rest of my life. Something about my under-the-radar beauty or my womanly charms. How I’d hypnotized him with my wit.

“Lose the sweater,” he said gruffly.

I blinked, then laughed. To Jake, that probably was romantic. And I’d take it. With his help, I pulled Mom’s sweater over my head. He threw it into the front seat and then made quick work of my bra.

My usually sensitive nipples were already on high alert, and when the cold night air hit them, I felt them pebble into tight buds.

“Oh my God,” he breathed.

“What? What’s wrong?” Were they lopsided? Did I have weird underwire marks on them?

“I’ve been thinking about your tits since I dumped you in the locker room shower.”

Reverently, he cupped them both. I couldn’t think of anything in this world that could compete with the feel of Jake’s palms on my boobs. Not a litter of golden retriever puppies. Not world peace. Not even triple chocolate fudge brownies with ice cream.

“You’re going to kill me,” he murmured.

I couldn’t tell if he was talking to me or my tits. But we were all good with it.

“Can I?” he asked, still staring at them. I could feel the hair on his hard thighs against mine. Yeah, he could pretty much have his way with any body part right now.

“Yes,” I hissed.

And then his mouth was closing over one pert nipple. I nearly launched myself off the seat. Yeah, sensitive nipples. I mentioned that before. But sensitive nipples with a man who knew what he was doing and wasn’t afraid of really enjoying himself? GAH! Sweet baby cheeses, I wasn’t going to live through this, and I didn’t even care.

“Jake, if you want to be in me when I come, then you better get moving now,” I said desperately. He wasn’t even fucking me with his fingers, and I was still ready to explode.

He pulled back from my breast, leaned in, gave the other one a lick, and growled his approval. “Just so you know. Once isn’t enough. I’m just getting started, pretty girl.”

“Less talking. More orgasms,” I begged.

I watched him fist his cock in one hand. Even wrapped in latex, it was a sight. The Eighth Wonder of the World: Jake Weston’s Erect Penis.

And then he was lining himself up with my entrance. “You sure?”

I nodded. There were a lot of things in life I wasn’t sure about. Should I register independent or choose a political party? Would I have better luck landing a dream job in a big city or a smaller suburb? How did the remote start on my car work?

But wanting Jake inside me. That was as clear of a yes as I ever had.

“Hold on to me,” he said, and then he was easing into me inch by spectacular inch.





47





Jake





So this was what Heaven felt like.

I was buried inside Marley Cicero and trying my hardest not to explode. I thought about Homer and my grandma. Homer eating my grandma’s broccoli casserole at Thanksgiving. I thought about the gas bill I’d left laying on a flat surface somewhere in the house.

Anything but the woman under me, around me.

Damn it. I was thinking about her again. I could feel my pulse in the tip of my dick and knew I was one jerky thrust away from coming so hard my fillings would pop out.

“Are we good?” she panted under me.

“Baby, don’t take this the wrong way. But if you say another word or move a muscle, this is going to be really embarrassing for me and really disappointing for you.”

She gave the tiniest laugh, and it almost put me over the edge.

Homer. Grandma. Broccoli. Gas. Did the Steelers have a shot at the Super Bowl this year? John Quincy Adams.

The old white guy did it. I felt the biological need to hose Mars down with my ejaculation dull just enough that I could start moving again.

I pulled out slowly, reveling at the drag of her flesh gripping me. She wasn’t just tight. She was holding me like she’d been specially made for me. And her muscle strength down there was impressive.

“Fuck. Mars. You feel amazing,” I said, sliding back into her.

“Jake, I think I’m going to…” She interrupted herself with a long low moan, and I felt it echoed in the eager quivering around my dick.

“Yeah, baby. Let me have it. Give it up for me,” I said, lowering myself onto her. Her breasts smashed against my chest, and I wished I had a few days just to suck on those perky, rosy nipples. I wished I had months to make love to her. Years to explore her body until there were no secrets left.

She was there. I could feel it even through the layer of latex that I was currently cursing. I wanted to feel her climax up close and in person.

“Come with me,” she breathed.

Women have no idea the turn-on and stress statements like that bring. First of all, it’s really fucking hard to time your own orgasm with a woman. But when you do it right, hot sex turns into a spiritual experience. And for Marley, I was willing to minister or preach or whatever the fuck the right metaphor was.