Watch Me Fall (Ross Siblings, #5)(95)
“Oh babe. If you need—”
Starla shushed him by placing a finger on his lips. “No. Not that I don’t appreciate whatever you’re about to offer, but I’ll get everything I need myself. I need to do that.”
Jared smiled against her finger, then caught it and gave the tip a nibble. “Whatever you say.”
“Actually the couch at Julie’s place is mine, but I figured Doug’s funk and beer stains are permanently embedded in it so I told her to keep the f*ckin’ thing. What I do have,” she murmured, putting her soft lips back on his, “is my bed.”
“That’s all we need.”
She gave a squeak as he scooped her up in his arms and headed toward the open door that must be her bedroom. Inside, it was dark, with only light from the security lights outside filtering through the blinds to show him where the bed was. Before he even laid her down on it, she was trembling, a delicious little vibration he felt skittering along his own nerve endings. As soon as her back hit the mattress, her sweet, feverish hands roamed his body pulling at his clothes, and her mouth melted under his. Jared was about to bust his zipper by the time her hand sought him out, teasing along the edge of his erection before working to free it from his jeans. It seemed ten forevers passed before their combined efforts got him out and into her warm hands.
He dropped his head to her shoulder, groaning as she slid one hand and then the other up his aching length. If he lasted more than three strokes inside her, it would be a miracle.
“Let me up for a second,” she whispered in his ear, taking a nibble after the words. “I have a treat for you.”
She was trying to kill him. If not by this treat she’d devised, then by the pain of letting her go even for a second. Nevertheless, he moved to the side and let her slide off the bed. His torture didn’t end there—she sent him a teasing glance over her shoulder before hooking her thumbs in her yoga pants and slowly sliding them down so that the perfectly round pale cheeks of her ass, separated by a scrap of black lace, peeked at him over the waistband. His heart skipped a beat. And, damn her, she bent all the way over to push her pants to the floor, killing the remark forming on his tongue—whatever the hell it had been.
“Goddamn, you are perfect,” he said once he found his voice again. Chuckling, she gave her pants a kick across the room and sauntered toward the bathroom in nothing but her tight T-shirt and panties and wild skin art…
…leaving him alone to wonder what the hell she was up to in there. The light snapped on; a drawer opened and closed again. The light went off again. When she skipped out a couple of minutes later, the only difference was that her hair was down, a wild and wavy platinum mane. She grinned at him as she straddled him on all fours, every move resplendent with sultry grace. When he leaned up to kiss her, though, she placed her finger against his lips again and gently urged him back down. “Relax.”
“Impossible.” Every muscle in his body was tense, primed. Ready for her and whatever she had to give him, now and forever or as long as she would have him. But he lay back and simply tried to breathe as her nails scraped lightly down his pecs, his abs, until finally her hands framed his cock and she leaned down to give it one long, leisurely lick from base to tip.
His hands went helplessly to her head and even behind closed lids, his eyes rolled back in his head.
Her tongue ring. He’d seen it flashing at him as she spoke the first night they’d met, but since then she hadn’t worn it—at least not when she was with him. Maybe she’d thought he wouldn’t like it. Hell, was she insane? He loved it. She massaged his entire length with that hard little ball, at such delicious odds with her soft, wet tongue. Slow, languid swirls, little sucking nips, all interspersed with acrobatics he couldn’t even figure out. His chest heaved. His balls tightened. Fuck, not yet not yet…it was too good. Too good… Once she had him nice and wet, she tightened her lips over his head and took him slowly into her mouth, fluttering that skilled tongue as she sucked, deeper and deeper until he met the back of her throat and holy shit, farther still. His entire world became her mouth around him.
“Starla,” he breathed, releasing her head to clutch her sheets in death grips because he feared he might tear her hair out. He wanted to wait, to hold off, to give her all night, but he was lost. And she wasn’t letting up until he let go. “I’m coming, baby.”
She only sucked him deeper.
His climax nearly rent him in two, bringing him half off the bed. She rode him out, refusing to let go of him until she drained every last drop, until he collapsed, spent and momentarily useless.
He opened his eyes in time to see her sit up and give her lips a sultry swipe with her tongue. This girl was wife material, whether she knew it or not.
“Good?” she asked with a teasing little smile that killed him.
“Amazing.”
She leaned over and snuggled into his chest. His arms weighed a ton each, but he managed to get them around her, to pull her closer, to swear to himself that he would never let her go.
“Give me a second,” he murmured, and she giggled. Such a sweet sound. Not one he’d gotten used to hearing while she’d stayed with him. Maybe the Starla he thought he knew was nothing like the one he held right now. That was okay; he’d get to know her all over again.
“We have all night,” she whispered. Her lips traced a damp little path around his pec. Jared pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling until his lungs were full of her. “I intend to make full use of it.”