Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(51)

“Keep your hands busy,” Jasper half shouted straight up at the ceiling. “Jerk me off. I can’t stand the fucking ache anymore.” His thigh muscles were shaking, straining, loosening, tightening, the agony only increasing when Rita fisted his base and stroked in quick, up-and-down motions. “I’ve wanted that mouth. Wanted to slide inside and feel your tongue along the underside and it’s better, so much goddamn better than I thought. If you love it, purr for me, let me feel…fuck, Rita.”

Jasper’s lower back was starting to twist, telegraphing the point of no return. A decision needed to be made soon, or he would bathe that purring throat with his seed. Rita showed no signs of slowing, though, her hair tangling on his thighs as she lowered her mouth, again, again, again.

“Rita, stop. Stop and talk to me.” He wound Rita’s hair around his fists and drew her away, groaning curses at the loss. And, Jesus, her lust-dazed expression, those puffy, parted lips, almost had him thrusting back into her mouth to finish himself off, but he resisted, beating himself off with tight, slow strokes instead. “Better climb up here now if you want to fuck. Another minute in that mouth and I’ll be begging you to swallow for me.”

With Jasper’s words hanging in the air, Rita rose to her feet, both sets of their hands attacking the zipper of her shorts, knocking into one another. The imminent reality of fucking Rita made him frantic, had him ripping the green shirt over her head, tugging her bra low, then racing back down to assist with her shorts.

“God, Rita. Your tits.” He leaned forward to suck one attention-seeking bud into his mouth, pulling back to flick his tongue against it. “You want something done to those pretty babies while I’m giving you this cock, I want to hear about it. Understand? If you want them sucked or smacked or spat on, you speak up.” He palmed her breasts, holding the nipples in place so he could rake his tongue from one peak, over to the next. “I’m going to lose my mind when I’m sunk between your legs, but don’t let me forget about these.”

Slipping into this old skin should have been smoother, but for once, the currents of desire weren’t simply below his belt. They were moving in pulsing waves through his chest, through the pounding organ that seemed to be typing Rita’s name in Morse code. No, there was nothing smooth about diving off a cliff with only a slim chance of survival, but the fall—Jesus, the fall would blow his mind, wouldn’t it?

Jasper pushed Rita’s shorts down her legs, his mouth racing across her stomach, attacking her hips, inhaling, inhaling. Memorizing every whimper, every scrape of his teeth that made her body writhe. He sensed her continually renewed surprise every time he found a new erogenous zone. Deep in her belly button, in the crease between her thigh and pussy. And it stoned him, turned him into a fuck-drunk fiend. Goddamn, how would she react when his dick was finally sliding in and out? Would she expect it to be so good? Or would her lips part in amazement, the way they were doing now? Again and again. Because, hell, if she kept up that innocent shock when they got to the main event, he’d have to close his eyes to prevent coming after one pump.

“I’m getting the feeling”—Jasper jerked Rita’s panties down to midthigh before trailing his fingers up the inside of her right leg, toward her pussy—“that you haven’t been properly seen to, beautiful. We’re going to change that.”

“How?” she breathed, sounding anxious.

Jasper stood, bringing their faces close together so he could watch Rita’s eyes. Then he pushed his middle finger into her damp pussy, moaning at the way she flexed around him, the way her gaze went blind. “You let me worry about how. You just worry about taking my cock into this tight little sweetheart. How does that sound?”

If he hadn’t been so focused on Rita’s reactions, her eyes, he might have missed the battle playing out. Being the shot-caller in bed came naturally to him; it wasn’t something he had to think about. But with him and Rita on such shaky footing, maybe he should have. Before he could kiss her back onto his side, Rita evaded his mouth, sucking in a gulping breath. She shook her hips, sending the panties gliding down her legs to the floor, before turning around, presenting her upturned backside, and planting both hands on the desk. “I want you like this,” she husked over her shoulder.

“Do you.” Those currents traveling through Jasper’s chest hit a speed bump, lancing him with something akin to pain. Over the last couple days, he’d imagined fucking Rita a multitude of ways, but she’d always been facing him. Their mouths had always been fastened together whether he had her up against the wall or tangled up in the sheets of his bed. This was how she planned to slay him, then.

Keeping it—impersonal.

Unfortunately, being aware of her plan did nothing to lessen the rigidity of his cock or make him any less out-of-his-mind starved for her. Not when her back was arched just enough to give him perfect access to that sweet, pink pussy, from which the dew still slicked his middle finger. Already he was fisting his distended flesh, preparing to smack it against her backside, just a few times, before sinking in up to his aching balls. Lord, she was squirming for it, too. Wanted it down and dirty—and he wanted to satisfy that need. There might have even been a sick part of Jasper that wanted Rita to have a hard time keeping up with his bruising pace, wanted her to wish she’d opted to make love with him in his bed instead of bending over his desk and taking it while his balls slapped the front drawer.