Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)(67)
He didn’t stop until she was wrung out, wasted, limp and panting on his bed. But she cracked open an eye to see nothing about him was limp. Oh God. Oh…God. He was rummaging in his nightstand drawer, presumably for a condom. Any other time, she would relish watching him roll it on, but she could seriously go to sleep now. As she heard that package crinkling and Latex unfurling, she knew it wasn’t to be. This wasn’t over.
“Are you okay?” he whispered, not moving on top of her but stretching out beside her.
“Mm-hmm,” was all she could manage. Even that sounded light and airy, as if she could drift off any second. His hand stroked over her stomach, caressing lightly. She smiled, half in a dream. He touched her all over, even her arms and legs, bringing her body back to waking life after the world’s ending a few moments ago. Often, his mouth followed his hands, moving softly and damply over tattooed and unmarked skin alike. He slid her panties down her legs, again following them with kisses. He lifted one of her hands, kissing each finger. He lifted the other and did the same. Then her breasts, one and the other, his beard scratching lightly. She felt revered, worshipped.
Loved.
Her eyes opened, and she reached for him, pulling him over her. “Now? Please?” He went into her arms readily, not holding himself up but easing down over her so he could hold her close and drop kisses along her jaw and the edges of her lips. His kneed her thighs apart—oh yes, she loved that move. Something so primal about it, so possessive. She was his, and he was going to take her.
Her body wasn’t as done as she’d thought. As soon as her * felt the first nudge of him, she realized how slick she still was, how needy his caresses had made her. His mouth sought and found hers. His body invaded hers. One strong, slow thrust stretching her while he shuddered over her, and she cursed and clutched at his back and nearly died from the absolute f*cking perfection of it.
“Starla,” he said, for the first time sounding weak and astounded. “Oh God.”
All the times before had been child’s play. She’d never thought so then, but she knew so now. Nothing, nothing had ever compared to this. It broke her heart to think nothing ever would. If he left her…
The thought was almost horrifying enough to push him away, to not take the chance. For him to strip her down to her essential being and then abandon her would be a hurt she couldn’t bear. To make her feel all these beautiful things and then deprive her of his touch forever would kill her.
Jesus, she couldn’t take it. “Jared, a few minutes ago, you made me stop thinking. Do it again. Please.” Before I decide I can’t do this with you.
He kissed her mouth, tongue gently dancing with hers as his hips picked up a devastating rhythm, not the hard, pounding f*ck she’d been asking for but a strong, steady heartbeat that only shook her up more inside. Harder. Faster. Please. Not like you love me. Not like that.
But she couldn’t ask, because it was so good like this. Too good. The line was crossed, and she couldn’t go back. He was going to make her come to this sweet, intimate beat between their bodies, and she would be doomed.
“You’re thinking,” he murmured, and she realized she’d been gazing up into his disconcerting blue eyes, and he’d probably taken note of every emotion passing through her own. “I’m not doing my job.”
“Oh, you are. Keep doing it.” His hips increased their tempo, his strength reminding her that this man rode bulls and horses and whatever the f*ck else. She bit her lip, pleasure furrowing her brow as the friction increased. Thank God for a man who knew how to work his hips and hit every sweet spot inside. He was driving the breath from her with every thrust but still managed to somehow be gentle, to be terrifyingly perfect. But just as she was beginning to feel the first sweet tightening of her inner muscles around him, he pulled out and sat up on his knees, taking her with him.
“Fuck, I was so close,” she complained, squirming to reclaim him.
“I know,” he said with a grin, evading her. Then he dropped his head to rain kisses down her throat, her chest. His dick jutted up between them, hard, so big, and she had to console herself by rubbing her clit up and down its length.
“You are the hardest man to f*ck I think I’ve ever met.”
“But you like the challenge.”
“I think I like your cock in me more.”
He lay back then, leaving her sitting on his thighs with that massive, glorious, straining erection all for her, and she suddenly remembered his dream. Riding me. “Then take it, Starla. I’m not as much of a challenge as you think.”
Rising up on her knees, she inched up his body until she straddled his hips. Taking him in her hand, she positioned him and—oh, so f*cking good—eased down inch by inch. And there were a lot of inches. His head dug back into the mattress and his hands slapped hard on her hips as he sought to control her descent, but she wouldn’t let him. “Ooh, I like that,” she assured him, rolling her hips. “You can spank me if you need to, baby.”
He chuckled. “Yeah?”
Nodding, she leaned down and gave his firm pec a gentle squeeze with her teeth. The air whooshed out of him. Inside her, he throbbed hard. She clenched on him in return, increasing the pressure of her bite. Those big hands gripped her ass so hard it hurt, holding her open over him. She bit until he gave her right ass cheek a smack, and she gasped with the stinging ecstasy of it, half expecting him to apologize or stop, but he didn’t. He grasped two solid handfuls of her hair and stared up into her eyes with barely leashed savagery, the blue burning bright even in the shadows, and she knew then. Oh yes, he can be wild too.