What a Bachelor Needs (Bachelor Auction Book 4)(24)

He liked a little edge to go with his lovemaking, a little speed where appropriate.

He loved it.

Over against the windowsill now, with Mardie’s back to it for leverage and her butt on the little ledge, as he wrapped his hands around her thighs. She freed his erection and ran her thumb along the underside, her nail running delicately over the rim of his head.

“Do that again,” he demanded, chasing the pleasure she gave to him, again and again, and he who was supposed to be an athlete could hardly speak for want of breath. He wanted to sheath himself inside her, needed it with a ferocity that was new to him, and he slid his thumb beneath her panties and into her slick warmth, finding her nub and playing it fast and firm.

Her panties came off, and then her skirt, and she was as hasty as he was and utterly starved for touch. No matter what he did, she had a gasp for him, a tremor, a kiss.

Too fast. Too hard maybe. But if he weren’t holding back, then neither was Mardie. Not when she lined him up, and he inched inside, and he tried to slow things down a little. Tried not to snap up into her with no care for her comfort.

There were things they should be talking about, like protection. Things he should be doing, like asking Mardie if she wanted this. Things that he always made sure of. Only this time, as those final inches slid in and she encompassed him fully, he was sure of only one thing.

When it came to Mardie, he wanted more of everything.

“This okay?” he whispered, stroking her hair from her face and trying to be gentle, when every instinct screamed at him to move his hips. “Can you deal with this?”

“Don’t you dare go slow.” Her mouth found his again and he sank into the sweetness. “Don’t you hold back on me because you think I might break.”

He pulled back carefully, and then drove hard and she clung but she didn’t break. This was how he liked his sex, the long slow slide of withdrawal and then back in hard and fast. He closed his eyes and relished the softness of skin and the tangle of limbs. He dragged his thumb across her bottom lip, dipping in and getting it wet and then slid it down her body, not stopping to linger until her found her clit and circled it. “How about this?”

“Yes.” As she gripped the sill with both hands, wrapped her legs around him and gave him more room to work. “Do that.”

“And this?” A more insistent pace, now, until it threatened to get the better of him, so he pulled out and made do with less heat and less grip as he dragged her tiny nub along his hardness. Still friction and contact but geared more towards her pleasure than his. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” And it was messy and slick and she took exactly what she wanted by way of friction and nearly drove him over the edge. Come all over her stomach or get back inside her, it was a close call, but more than anything he wanted in, and she didn’t object. If anything, she melted at the renewed intrusion.

He could pull out again, he could and he would. Right after—

She cried out and stilled, tightening around him like a silken vice.

Right after—

Her inner muscles started milking him.

Just before—

He lost it.

*

Once upon a time, Mardie had liked sex. She’d always liked touch. Feather light or hard and urgent, she welcomed it. Craved it, even.

But she’d never craved so hard or fast as she’d just done with Jett. Plastered against him in an attempt to find her breath, all that hardness and heat at her fingertips, Mardie finally realized what touch could do to a person if the right person was doing the touching.

At twenty-nine, she’d finally experienced good sex.

Great sex.

With local sporting hero, personal savior, and all round tease, Jett Casey.

“I’m getting a feel for why women trail after sports stars,” she murmured. “That was—

“Exquisite? Outstanding? Unbelievably stupid?” He smiled and brushed his lips over hers. “Want to do it again?”

He was softening even as he said it. “You talk a big game, Casey.”

“I have a big game,” he assured her. “I just need a moment.”

“Want to shower with me instead? Not that I can guarantee that you’ll get wet. And then we can picnic and be all mellow and satisfied—

“Speak for yourself.”

“—momentarily satisfied… and then I am open to suggestion.”

“How about we leave the shower for now and head for your bedroom?”

“Because you’re exhausted and need a nap?”

“Because I really want to do that again. On a soft surface where there’s room to spread out and explore and take things really—” He punctured his words with a kiss. “Really—” Another, kiss, deeper this time and full of promise. “Slow.”





Chapter Eight




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Jett was up and emptying Mardie’s red and black kitchen cupboard when Seth arrived the following morning. He’d showered in the shower that barely deserved the name, given that it provided barely a trickle of water beneath which to wash. He’d fix that – just as soon as he and Seth got rid of this cupboard and the wall behind it.

How to get Seth to stop staring at him with blatant curiosity was another issue that needed addressing.