Hanging On (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2)(35)

He shook his head slightly to ward off butterflies and let out another raged breath. A sudden insight led me to realize that neither of us had been down this path before. We were walking unprotected on an uncharted plain into a place where each of us could be ground into nothing if the other so chose. We were opening ourselves to each other as we had to no other. As we rarely had even to ourselves. The events of the night transpired into a level of trust I shared with no other.

He ran his hand up my body. He bent me over backward gently and kissed each nipple. He flicked his tongue along my areola and sucked. I let out a moan. He softly bit and sucked harder, slipping his hand between my legs into my warm, wet slit. He worked his fingers on my pleasure button as heat coursed through my body.

Chapter Eight

“I love you Jessica. I want you so badly. I want you as my own.”

He backed me to the bed and laid me down. He stood above me with his large c**k jutting out. He opened my legs and kneeled down, lightly licking and tasting my inner thighs. He slowly, ever so slowly, moved up my leg, giving me Goosebumps.

Finally he reached my sex, licking lightly, then softly blew to enhance anticipation. I opened my legs wider, begging with my body. He opened my slit and took a long taste, his lips and tongue exploring. Two fingers worked inside me, messaging upward, hitting exactly where I needed him, his hot mouth teasing my clitoris.

I lost all thought. The rising increasingly mounting, his sucking, tasting, rubbing and touching going faster, harder. I moaned and arched, positioning myself to enjoy the experience fully. At last the tidal wave of satisfaction broke over me and I cried out a final time, my body shuddering.

He climbed up onto me, inserting himself, his need obvious. His large manhood thrust deeply, hitting all the right places, and the dance began. He took it slow. Almost too slow. I begged and pleaded for him to go faster, scratching his back and biting his neck, but he wouldn’t relent. He kissed and rocked, telling me sensual nothings with a smile, heightening the sensation.

I quaked and peaked, then started the build again. Each peak higher than the last. Time and space did not exist. I would not have blinked if I found we were suddenly floating through the bedroom air, or in a different location altogether. He continued his recital of his worship of me, me proving to be as much a god to him as he was Apollo to me. His thrusting was a little faster now. He iron glad self-control starting to slip in the emotions of the night.

I had paired my emotions for him with our love making since we first began, but this was a different level. A deeper level. It went to the core of me. I was opening myself in ways I didn’t know I could, inviting him inside in a way that I could never take back, realizing that I would never want to. Our bodies moved in sync with each other, his thrusting coming faster, harder, his breath labored, my moans of delight louder.

He bit my neck then kissed me hard. I grabbed at him with all my strength, arching and pulling. I pushed him on with my words, I met his thrust for thrust, twisting my legs around him and begging for more. I pulled him into me, crashing against his body, then feeling his withdrawal only to pull him back in.

We were panting when cl**ax took us, rocketing us away from reality. We held onto each other as if the world was being torn apart, us knowing where ever we would be sucked and spun, it would be together. His final cry was that he loved me, that phrase over simplifying the feeling, but cementing itself into our every fiber.

We lay in each other’s arms, him stroking my hair, breathing deeply. I wanted to admit my love as well, but not as an afterthought. Not as a come-down. I wanted to do it in my own way. Without him stealing my thunder. Or me stealing his.

Oh God, where am I?

I looked around frantically before I saw my lotion bottle on the dresser. The disorientation from waking up started to recede, helping me recognize William’s room in the ranch house. I hadn’t been here in over a month, and then only the one time. We’d been sleeping in his elegantly furnished house in the city. A place I now knew well.

The bold sunlight shot through the thin fabric of the curtains and baked my eyes. Shielding my face with my arm, I allowed my eyes to flutter and my consciousness to come fully awake. The red numbers on the alarm clock said 9:03. It was my usual time to get up on a weekend, if I hadn’t been drinking the night before, but my body hurt. And my pride hurt. I could have slept for half the day, shutting out the uncomfortable world I found myself.

But my safety blanket was gone. Which had me sitting up and groggily, blinking around the room.

A soft chiming sounded next to me. The dog from last night stood, its stump of a tail wagging as it stared at me with what I imagined a hostile gaze.

“Hi girl. Or boy.” Further analysis proved it was a boy. “You waiting for me, or did you sleep in, too?”

He didn’t respond.

“It seems you’ve learned Denise’s stare down.”

Standing out of bed, in the buff, I noticed my dress had been removed.

“Good,” I said to myself. Then realized that it was weird to talk to oneself when another being was in the room. I turned to the dog. “I hope they burned it.”

He wagged his tail. It was a better class of answer than silence, at any rate.

I snagged a pair of William’s boxer-briefs and a t-shirt, both of which were loose, but smelled deliciously like his fabric softener. I sighed like a love-sick ninny as I turned toward the door.

The dog nearly knocked me over as it sprinted out in front of me, then clattered around the Mexican tile of the hallway.