Not My Romeo (The Game Changers #1)(72)

Just one, just one, just one.

I tug his head down and lick at his lips, and he parts them, letting me in as I kiss him softly. He sighs against me, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me tightly against him. He lets me lead, and I do, exploring him, tasting him, groaning at the smell of his skin, at the brush of his chest against his shirt I’m still wearing.

He takes over, his fingers digging into my ass, his lips slanting across mine, harder, more insistent.

“Elena . . . ,” he murmurs. “I’ve never loved kissing this much.” His mouth takes mine again, and I melt into him, my leg hitching against his hips. My fingers tug on his hair as he runs his hand down my thigh, stroking and kneading. “Can’t resist this,” he rumbles against my neck. “I put you in bed and wanted to get in there with you so goddamn bad.”

Desire fires off inside every part of my body, and I tremble. It’s so fucking hot with us, an electric wire from me to him.

And I know, I know what this is. Sex. Just sex, but when will I ever feel like this again? This connection. This feeling as if I might die if I don’t have him. I should stop, I should.

Because he’s going to hurt me.

He’s going to—

He’s the one to break us apart, holding me, staring down at me, his throat working. His chest moves rapidly. “One kiss . . . shit . . . Elena. If you don’t go . . .”

“I don’t want to go.” I close my eyes. What am I doing? This is his fuck palace! “You once said you wanted me bent over this couch. I haven’t stopped wondering what I missed.”

He inhales a sharp breath. “Elena . . .”

“You actually said, ‘I’m going to fuck you from behind.’ I think. Maybe I’m missing the exact wording, but it was hot, that image you painted in my head.”

I remove his shirt I’m wearing, feeling nervous.

But I’m brave. And I hang on to that with tenacity.

This is what I want.

“Elena . . .” He bites his lip and meets my gaze. “Please don’t stop whatever you’re doing. Please.”

My fingers push down my shorts. I unsnap my bra, and my breasts sway as I tuck my thumbs in the waistband of my thong, teasing it down a little, then pulling it back up, enjoying that flare in his gaze. His chest heaves, and his eyes glitter.

Gah, I’m a madwoman. Crazy. I don’t know who I am right now—maybe my real self—it seems so easy with him. The freedom. This want.

“You gonna make good on that promise, Jack?”

He groans, watching me. “Yes, fuck yes. Leave the panties on. I want to take them off.”

My lower body clenches at his words. “Take your shorts off, Jack.”

He palms his cock. “You do it.” He pauses. “But no sucking me off. This is about you.”

“Hmm,” I say, stepping into him, sighing when my nipples press against his skin. I shove down his shorts, using my toes to push the fabric down. His arousal is hard and long, thick with veins that throb as I brush my fingers over his mushroom-shaped head.

He shudders and wraps his hands around me, our skin finally pressed together. “God. Elena . . .”

“No one’s ever said my name like you do.”

He pauses and cups my face. “Good.”

I smile at how breathless he is, the stillness of him, that hint of anxiousness on his face, as if he’s afraid I might disappear.

He stares down at me, an unsure look on his face.

“I’m not disappearing.”

His eyes close briefly. “I’d die if you leave.”

He kisses me, his fingers brushing at my nipples, then his mouth following, his tongue flicking across my breasts, sucking. Pushing them together, he massages me, his tongue and teeth wreaking havoc.

“Are you wet for me, Elena?” he says in my ear.

“Since the moment you walked in the bakery. What are you going to do about it? Maybe you should tell me all about it.”

He huffs out a laugh and slides his hand inside my panties, his thumb rotating against my nub. I sway on my feet, arching into his fingers as one slips inside me before coming back out.

Another deep kiss. More groans from him as he maps out my body.

“You’re being mean, and you’re not talking dirty,” I gasp after a few moments.

“Saving up for something good.” Another finger goes inside me, rotating and tantalizing my sweet spot.

I grasp his length, dancing over the wetness from his tip, stroking it down and back up.

He hisses and shoves my underwear down. “Do you have any clue how many times I’ve pictured you here with me?”

“How many?” I suck on his neck hard, wanting to leave my imprint on him so that when this is over, he’ll see my mark and want me all over again.

“A hundred at least. You spread out, me behind you . . . shit . . . you in my lap . . . you on the floor . . . you against the wall. You won’t get out of my head.”

He turns me to the back of the couch, placing my hands on the edge of the high back, and my body knows what to do, bending over, ready for him.

I gasp when his hands run down the curves of my back, his lips brushing over my shoulder blades, skimming down my spine, his mouth biting my ass.

I look over at the window at our reflection, and he’s on his knees behind me, hands palming me as he spreads me apart and licks down my body. His fingers seesaw inside me, stroking me, teasing me as I wiggle to get him back to that bundle of nerves.