Too Hot to Handle (Romancing the Clarksons #1)(64)
“I want to feel you right where you are,” she husked. “Oh my God, it’s so thick. I can feel it beating.”
“Rita.” Jasper nudged her forehead with his own, a frustrated action that ended in them sliding into another erotic kiss. “You knock that shit off right now. I’m trying to savor you, not jackhammer your brains out.”
“Do it,” she moaned, propping her bent legs higher on his hips, using them as leverage to lift off the swing. “I need you. Hard like before.”
“Hard like before, yes. But this time you’ll look me in the eye while I’m ringing your bell. You understand me?” Jasper pressed her back down into the swing, bearing down with his lower body, grinding her into the wood until she whimpered. “And at some point tonight, I’m going to make love to you. The kind of sex that takes an hour of slow rocking and pumping. The kind where we wrap our fingers together, then twine them around the headboard. And I whisper things in your ear I can’t say in the light. Promise me.”
“I promise,” Rita responded, her thighs already starting to tremble from the way he pressed down on her oversensitive flesh. But there was more now. Her heart was in the game, squeezing and lifting and twisting at the beautiful words coming out of Jasper’s mouth. She couldn’t allow them to sink in too deep, though. Couldn’t dwell on them or hurt would follow—and she didn’t want to hurt tonight. Tonight and some of tomorrow was all she had, which meant she needed a distraction from the reality that she only had one full night to spend with this man. “P-please, Jasper. Move inside me.”
The tension inside him snapped and the world started spinning again. He burrowed his face into her neck with a groan, his hips beginning a slow rhythm of knocking back the swing on which Rita was perched, before letting the wooden seat carry her back down onto his erection. A back-and-forth arc that resulted in Rita bouncing off of Jasper’s lap with the sound of smacked flesh, swinging back, then gliding forward again on the air.
“Jesus. Jesus, Rita. Why did you have to be such a sweet little fit?” His pumping deviated from the pattern he’d set, starting new, erratic drives that were as uneven as his breathing where it warmed her neck. And each one of those thrusts jolted Rita on the swing, the momentum slamming her back down, rattling her teeth. “I can’t…I can’t pump as hard as you need it,” Jasper groaned. “Need you held down and still.”
Rita opened her mouth to tell Jasper that he could do whatever he thought best, although in far less articulate terms, when he yanked her off the swing and batted the hanging object out of the way. She couldn’t see where he was walking them after that because his mouth distracted her, moving over hers like a dirty promise, low growls emanating from his throat, clashing with her out-of-control whimpers. They dipped after a moment and then Rita’s back met the soft grass she’d spied upon exiting the house. After that, nothing existed to her but the man driving himself like a bull between her legs. The sky turned into a blurry vortex above his advancing and retreating shoulders.
His hands shoved Rita’s knees open as far as they would go, down into the grass, his body roiling like a storming ocean. Peaking and breaking, dropping back down, before coming back twice as hard. “This is what you wanted. This is what you love.” Her wrists were pinioned above her head, forcing her back to arch on a cry of his name. “You can’t walk away from how good I f*ck you, Rita. You could go anywhere and never feel this again. I need you to acknowledge that. God knows I’m acknowledging the reverse.”
“Yes.” Her arms strained, fingers flexing underneath his uncompromising grip. “I know, I know, I know. Don’t stop. It feels so good. Hurts. Feels good.”
“I know all about it, beautiful,” he grated, head tilting back so she could see the sweat pouring down the sides of his face. “I know all about the hurt. I know all about the good. You give me both, too.” The muscles in his neck and shoulders bunched, shifted. “This * is all f*cking good, though. Every scarce inch. Every sweet stroke of it.”
Rita’s climax almost stripped her vocal chords of their function. They locked down, only allowing a strangled scream to emerge as she arched off the ground in what would have been a full backbend if Jasper’s weight wasn’t crushing her down, forcing her to sail straight into the eye of the orgasm, experiencing its possession of her entire body. Her legs were jerked up to his shoulders, his hips never ceasing their drives, masculine groans branding her shoulder, her throat.
“Oh f*ck, f*ck, I’m giving it to you right now. All of it.” Jasper went rigid, his arm muscles tightening beneath Rita’s raised legs, teeth bared in the near darkness.
Jasper having an orgasm might have been the single most remarkable event Rita had ever witnessed in her entire life. He choked on the intensity of it, but still attempted to repeat her name again and again, the word coming out sounding like an expletive rubbed raw. His every muscle stood out beneath sunbaked skin, glistening with perspiration. And his eyes—God, his eyes—they were twin anchors keeping Rita stationary on the ground as she watched this incredible man take his pleasure. Let it wrack his body. The sight was so amazing and arousing that it only took Rita reaching down and sliding a finger over her clit to get her off again.
When Rita regained consciousness, her arms were limp, thrown out in the grass as if she’d passed out in the process of making a snow angel. Jasper still moved on top of her, sliding their slick bodies together, murmuring things into her hair that ranged from filthy to adoring. “So beautiful lying there all rosy and dewed up. I could turn you over and bang you again just for looking so damn delicious. Would you take it for me, Rita? Yeah, you would. You’d rest your cheek on the grass and let me beat that *.”