Ready or Not (The Ready Series Book 4)(65)

“Why?” she purred.

“Because I’m about to f*ck you so hard that the walls are going to shake.”

“A big fan of sexy poetry, Jackson?” she quipped.

I pulled my shirt up over my head. “Only when it’s coming from that dirty mouth of yours. Now, lift your dress, and show me your wanton charms.” I grinned.

She complied and slowly lifted the vibrant orange fabric up her thighs and over her stomach until she exposed her bare breasts, and then the dress fell to the floor.

That was one of the many things I loved about Liv. She wasn’t a huge fan of bras, and she often went without on many occasions. She was like unwrapping a mystery gift each time I undressed her. I never knew what I’d find—sexy lingerie or nothing but Liv. Either way, it would be the sexiest damn present I’d ever had.

“So beautiful,” I murmured before kissing a path along her neck.

I moved down her body and slid off the bed. I knelt beside it and tugged on her legs until her ass was resting on the edge. I reached for the silky panties around her waist and pulled until the last piece of clothing hit the floor, and she was bare. Like a desperate addict waiting for his next hit, my hands shook with need as I placed her legs around my shoulders and met her heated gaze.

“Never forget the way this feels, Liv, the way we feel together.”

Parting her thighs, I bent down and buried myself in her sweet, intoxicating body. She tasted like fine wine and honey delivered straight from Olympus, and I was the lucky bastard who got to enjoy it over and over again.

I’d told Liv never to forget us and how we felt together because I never would. This woman—her body, heart, and mind—had permanently altered me, and I never wanted to go back to the man I had been before.

With the swirl of my tongue, I brought her close to climax and backed off, feeling her body tighten, as her fingers dug into the sheets above.

“Jackson!” she whimpered in frustration, feeling the loss of my mouth from her core.

Without answering, I shoved my hands under her ass and hoisted her onto my shoulders. A yelp of surprise followed.

“What are you doing?” she said in a hushed voice.

I answered by pushing her against the far wall and picking up where I’d left off. My tongue rubbed her clit, and I held her high up above me on the wall. Muffled cries came soon after as her body pressed and writhed against me until she finally broke apart.

Sliding her body down, I pinned her between me and the wall with one hand. Not wasting a second, I undid the button of my jeans.

“Teach me to sin, Jackson,” she whispered, watching me with hooded eyes.

I grasped my hard length in my hands and slowly lowered her inch by glorious inch.

“Being with you could never be called a sin, sweetheart,” I answered.

“Then, make me, make me love you,” she cried out, ad-libbing the poem, as our bodies joined tightly together.

Her legs wrapped around my waist as my fingers dug into her backside. Every thrust was rough and merciless as I made good on my promise to shake and rattle the walls around us.

I would continue to make this woman love me until the last breath left my dying body. With my soul, my touch, and my heart, I would capture hers and hold on to it like the precious treasure it was.

My primal need to claim and make her mine raged on as I buried myself into my chosen mate, over and over, feeling like my soul was being branded by her just as strongly. As we both hurdled over the edge, my lips crashed into hers, and our muffled cries softened.

I knew only one thing.

Olivia Prescott owned me, body and soul.

I just hoped she understood what that meant.

Liv

“I’m going to beat you!” I nearly sang into my cell as I turned around the corner toward our houses.

Jackson and I had both scheduled short days, so we could be there when Noah arrived home from the bus on his first day. Every other following day, he’d come home by himself. Jackson had decided Noah was old enough to do a trial run.

But today was special, and we wanted to celebrate it—assuming Jackson ever made it through downtown traffic.

“Tell him I’ll be there in five minutes, ten tops,” he grumbled loudly.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll bring him over to my house and make him a snack. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Sounds good. And, Liv?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The call ended before I could respond, but it didn’t stop the multitude of butterflies from coming to life in my stomach. That man did an amazing job of making me feel like a giggly schoolgirl just by uttering three tiny words.

Hell, one lopsided grin could turn me into mush.

Turning onto our street, I parked in front of my manicured green lawn, trying to stop myself from smiling when I noticed the way Jackson had taken extra time to mow diagonally rather than straight across because he knew I liked it.

Now, I was getting crazy over grass.

I had become one of those women, the kind who went weak in the knees when her man was around and sighed like a lovesick puppy when he wasn’t.

Love was weird.

Luckily, I didn’t have much more time to find anything else to send my heart a flutter. With a high-pitched squeal of the tires, the bus came to a stop in front of Jackson’s house, and I watched as the door was tossed opened.