The Fortunate Ones
Page 36
James reaches down and strokes across the bottom of my breast, feeling the weight of it in his palm before rolling my nipple between his thumb and index finger. I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to keep my mask of indifference right where it belongs. I’ve never felt this…this frenzy before, this need to get under his skin. The thought scares me and I try to push it aside, but it’s like he knows how close I am to begging him for more and wants to stoke the flame.
He bends low and brushes a seductive kiss across my lips before whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”
His voice is hoarse and raw, so damn sexy that I reach up and grip the back of his neck, tugging him down against me. His hands hit my thighs and he bends low so he’s on his knees between my legs. It almost feels like he’s submitting to me, but I know better. I doubt this man has submitted to anyone in his entire life.
His hands squeeze my thighs, ensuring that I stay spread eagle on the edge of the couch. My panties are still slightly askew, just enough so that when he tips his head and glances down, I know exactly what he’s seeing. A low groan escapes his mouth and I feed on it, letting my legs fall open just a little bit more. His fingers bite into my thighs and I try not to smirk. Maybe he wasn’t submitting to me before, but he is now.
He loops his strong arms around my legs and tugs me until I’m lying horizontal on the couch, my legs bent up in the air. Before I can process the new position, his mouth hits my inner thigh, close enough to hint at his true destination. Dear god, I’m going to implode the moment his tongue strokes across me there. I try to squirm away, back to sitting up, but he forces my legs apart and pins me down. His finger tugs my panties to the side and I’m utterly exposed with nowhere to go. I’m forced to feel every one of his breaths as it hits the skin of my parted legs. Every instinct in me screams for release, but as soon as his lips descend, I pinch my eyes closed and embrace my lack of control.
I’ve been here before, but never with someone like James. There’s always been a lack of confidence, a grip that’s a little too gentle, a hand that’s a little too rough. When James sweeps his tongue across me, it’s with desire and intent, a hungry sort of lust that fills me with power. I lift my head and watch him between my thighs. His need is obvious in the way he stares, eyes wide and gleaming, like he’s a thief who’s just found the crown jewels. He dips low and his tongue licks across me slowly, just once before he pulls back and meets my gaze. Tension sizzles between us and he holds eye contact as he bends low again, this time dragging his tongue across me until he lands at the very top, swirling until my hands fist his hair.
I squeeze my eyes closed, let my head tip back, and release his name on an exhale. My voice sounds hoarse.
He picks up the pace, lapping and licking me quickly so there’s no time to resist the orgasm building inside of me. The first few waves of passion build and build, and just before they crest, he pulls back, blowing cool air on me until I’m squirming for release. Then he bends low again, kissing and sucking gently until my hips are grinding up to meet his mouth, desperate for him to continue. I’m sweaty and raw, a mess of emotions fully exposed to him. There’s no limit to how long he’ll drag out this torture. Maybe he really did miss me today, and maybe he really was jealous to find me at the bar with Martin, because right now, he’s punishing me for both.
I yank his hair and he growls, finally pinning his mouth on me and licking with enough speed and pressure to build my orgasm to a peak. My back arches off the couch and my head falls back. I see nothing but blackness behind my closed lids as I moan his name again and again.
The climax rushes through me with such force, such power, that I feel invigorated when it’s over. It’s like a jolt of caffeine to the system, a powerful surge of energy that makes me hungry for more. Without warning, I sit up and leap onto him. We fall back onto the floor of the living room and our nearly naked bodies collide for the first time. Soft curves meet hard muscle. My dark hair fans out around us. He reaches up and cups my breasts, and the feeling is so intoxicating that I give in completely to the kiss he presses against my lips. We’re impatient, hot. Weeks and weeks of anticipation built this moment.
His hands grip my ass and he pulls me down hard against him, rolling his hips in a maddening pace. I moan and fist my hands into his hair, hating the fact that our underwear separates us. The friction is teasing and suggestive, but I want to feel his smooth hardness against me, in me.
His hands dig into my flesh as his hips roll and grind, teasing me until I’m close to a second orgasm. Just like this, high school-style, over-the-clothes grinding—no. I deserve better. I deserve the real thing. I reach down and yank my panties aside, barely noticing the sound of lace gently tearing. He would have to stand to allow me to pull his boxer briefs all the way down, so I make do. I lift my hips just enough and tug until he’s exposed enough for me to pull his hard length out of the material. The sound he makes when I sit back down on him, flesh to flesh, is nothing short of a growl.
We are animals.
Hungry.
Impatient.
Wild.
“Brooke,” he groans as I roll back and forth across him.
Teasing.
Taunting.
So damn close to letting him slide into me.
I’m reminded of our talk so many weeks ago, and it hits me: we need a condom, NOW. I’m about to tell him that, but he’s quicker than me, reaching back for his pants with one hand. He hangs them upside down, shaking them out until his wallet falls to the floor with a heavy thunk.
I laugh.
He finds a thin packet, tears it open with his mouth, and then I reluctantly lift off him so he can slide it on with smooth confidence.
My body is shaking with desire and excitement. I know he’s going as fast as he possibly can, but it’s still not quick enough. My fingers dig into flesh. He groans and rolls the condom all the way down. We don’t wait, don’t take a breath. I angle him just right with my hand and then he pushes into me with one sumptuous thrust.
“JAMES.”
My second orgasm tears through me as I cry out. His mouth covers mine with passionate kisses, and then he picks me up and flips us over so I’m on bottom. The smooth rug cushions me from below as James hovers over me, cast in neon light. God, he’s sexy. The way he moves. The way he holds himself up on one arm and stares down at where we’re connected, where he drags out of me slowly before thrusting back in. I shudder.
There’s too much to focus on: the muscles jumping in his sharp jaw, his abs flexing and straining under the effort when he pulses in and out of me. I reach up and drag my palm across his chest and then I move lower, hooking my hands around his hips and making sure he pushes in as deep as he can possibly go. My eyes squeeze closed as I try to keep up with his unyielding rhythm. He starts moving so fast that pleasure brushes against the boundary of pain.
He tells me he’s going to come, and it’s such a sexy, bold declaration that I know I’ll soon follow. I’m panting. He’s groaning. We’re so in sync, I feel myself clench around him as his body starts to heave and shake. I look up and watch as his orgasm contorts his features into a mask of ecstasy.
When it’s over, he collapses on top of me and I stare up at the ceiling, relishing what it feels like to have his weight stealing my breath. It’s just enough to keep me in the present moment, to keep my brain from overthinking every move, every kiss.
“Brooke,” he whispers.
I hum.
“I promise I won’t miss dinner ever again.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I lie awake in James’ bed for hours trying to convince my body to give in to sleep. I should be exhausted after what we’ve done, but now that the hotel room is quiet and dark, I have nothing to focus on but the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It settled there a few hours ago for no good reason. I can’t pin it down to anything said or done. The night went off without a hitch: we had sex (twice) then showered, ordered room service, and eventually succumbed to sleep—or at least James did. I’m wide awake, fruitlessly willing this feeling to fade, and I remain that way until sometime in the early morning hours.
James apparently had to get up at some ungodly hour for the conference because when I jolt awake around 7:00 AM, he’s long gone, no trace of him in the suite. I do find some workout clothes in the bathroom, still sweaty, so I guess he found the time to work out before leaving for the day. Meanwhile, I enjoy a quiet breakfast of oatmeal and regret, staring out at the Vegas strip and trying hard not to think of how tightly my stomach is knotted.
He bends low and brushes a seductive kiss across my lips before whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”
His voice is hoarse and raw, so damn sexy that I reach up and grip the back of his neck, tugging him down against me. His hands hit my thighs and he bends low so he’s on his knees between my legs. It almost feels like he’s submitting to me, but I know better. I doubt this man has submitted to anyone in his entire life.
His hands squeeze my thighs, ensuring that I stay spread eagle on the edge of the couch. My panties are still slightly askew, just enough so that when he tips his head and glances down, I know exactly what he’s seeing. A low groan escapes his mouth and I feed on it, letting my legs fall open just a little bit more. His fingers bite into my thighs and I try not to smirk. Maybe he wasn’t submitting to me before, but he is now.
He loops his strong arms around my legs and tugs me until I’m lying horizontal on the couch, my legs bent up in the air. Before I can process the new position, his mouth hits my inner thigh, close enough to hint at his true destination. Dear god, I’m going to implode the moment his tongue strokes across me there. I try to squirm away, back to sitting up, but he forces my legs apart and pins me down. His finger tugs my panties to the side and I’m utterly exposed with nowhere to go. I’m forced to feel every one of his breaths as it hits the skin of my parted legs. Every instinct in me screams for release, but as soon as his lips descend, I pinch my eyes closed and embrace my lack of control.
I’ve been here before, but never with someone like James. There’s always been a lack of confidence, a grip that’s a little too gentle, a hand that’s a little too rough. When James sweeps his tongue across me, it’s with desire and intent, a hungry sort of lust that fills me with power. I lift my head and watch him between my thighs. His need is obvious in the way he stares, eyes wide and gleaming, like he’s a thief who’s just found the crown jewels. He dips low and his tongue licks across me slowly, just once before he pulls back and meets my gaze. Tension sizzles between us and he holds eye contact as he bends low again, this time dragging his tongue across me until he lands at the very top, swirling until my hands fist his hair.
I squeeze my eyes closed, let my head tip back, and release his name on an exhale. My voice sounds hoarse.
He picks up the pace, lapping and licking me quickly so there’s no time to resist the orgasm building inside of me. The first few waves of passion build and build, and just before they crest, he pulls back, blowing cool air on me until I’m squirming for release. Then he bends low again, kissing and sucking gently until my hips are grinding up to meet his mouth, desperate for him to continue. I’m sweaty and raw, a mess of emotions fully exposed to him. There’s no limit to how long he’ll drag out this torture. Maybe he really did miss me today, and maybe he really was jealous to find me at the bar with Martin, because right now, he’s punishing me for both.
I yank his hair and he growls, finally pinning his mouth on me and licking with enough speed and pressure to build my orgasm to a peak. My back arches off the couch and my head falls back. I see nothing but blackness behind my closed lids as I moan his name again and again.
The climax rushes through me with such force, such power, that I feel invigorated when it’s over. It’s like a jolt of caffeine to the system, a powerful surge of energy that makes me hungry for more. Without warning, I sit up and leap onto him. We fall back onto the floor of the living room and our nearly naked bodies collide for the first time. Soft curves meet hard muscle. My dark hair fans out around us. He reaches up and cups my breasts, and the feeling is so intoxicating that I give in completely to the kiss he presses against my lips. We’re impatient, hot. Weeks and weeks of anticipation built this moment.
His hands grip my ass and he pulls me down hard against him, rolling his hips in a maddening pace. I moan and fist my hands into his hair, hating the fact that our underwear separates us. The friction is teasing and suggestive, but I want to feel his smooth hardness against me, in me.
His hands dig into my flesh as his hips roll and grind, teasing me until I’m close to a second orgasm. Just like this, high school-style, over-the-clothes grinding—no. I deserve better. I deserve the real thing. I reach down and yank my panties aside, barely noticing the sound of lace gently tearing. He would have to stand to allow me to pull his boxer briefs all the way down, so I make do. I lift my hips just enough and tug until he’s exposed enough for me to pull his hard length out of the material. The sound he makes when I sit back down on him, flesh to flesh, is nothing short of a growl.
We are animals.
Hungry.
Impatient.
Wild.
“Brooke,” he groans as I roll back and forth across him.
Teasing.
Taunting.
So damn close to letting him slide into me.
I’m reminded of our talk so many weeks ago, and it hits me: we need a condom, NOW. I’m about to tell him that, but he’s quicker than me, reaching back for his pants with one hand. He hangs them upside down, shaking them out until his wallet falls to the floor with a heavy thunk.
I laugh.
He finds a thin packet, tears it open with his mouth, and then I reluctantly lift off him so he can slide it on with smooth confidence.
My body is shaking with desire and excitement. I know he’s going as fast as he possibly can, but it’s still not quick enough. My fingers dig into flesh. He groans and rolls the condom all the way down. We don’t wait, don’t take a breath. I angle him just right with my hand and then he pushes into me with one sumptuous thrust.
“JAMES.”
My second orgasm tears through me as I cry out. His mouth covers mine with passionate kisses, and then he picks me up and flips us over so I’m on bottom. The smooth rug cushions me from below as James hovers over me, cast in neon light. God, he’s sexy. The way he moves. The way he holds himself up on one arm and stares down at where we’re connected, where he drags out of me slowly before thrusting back in. I shudder.
There’s too much to focus on: the muscles jumping in his sharp jaw, his abs flexing and straining under the effort when he pulses in and out of me. I reach up and drag my palm across his chest and then I move lower, hooking my hands around his hips and making sure he pushes in as deep as he can possibly go. My eyes squeeze closed as I try to keep up with his unyielding rhythm. He starts moving so fast that pleasure brushes against the boundary of pain.
He tells me he’s going to come, and it’s such a sexy, bold declaration that I know I’ll soon follow. I’m panting. He’s groaning. We’re so in sync, I feel myself clench around him as his body starts to heave and shake. I look up and watch as his orgasm contorts his features into a mask of ecstasy.
When it’s over, he collapses on top of me and I stare up at the ceiling, relishing what it feels like to have his weight stealing my breath. It’s just enough to keep me in the present moment, to keep my brain from overthinking every move, every kiss.
“Brooke,” he whispers.
I hum.
“I promise I won’t miss dinner ever again.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I lie awake in James’ bed for hours trying to convince my body to give in to sleep. I should be exhausted after what we’ve done, but now that the hotel room is quiet and dark, I have nothing to focus on but the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It settled there a few hours ago for no good reason. I can’t pin it down to anything said or done. The night went off without a hitch: we had sex (twice) then showered, ordered room service, and eventually succumbed to sleep—or at least James did. I’m wide awake, fruitlessly willing this feeling to fade, and I remain that way until sometime in the early morning hours.
James apparently had to get up at some ungodly hour for the conference because when I jolt awake around 7:00 AM, he’s long gone, no trace of him in the suite. I do find some workout clothes in the bathroom, still sweaty, so I guess he found the time to work out before leaving for the day. Meanwhile, I enjoy a quiet breakfast of oatmeal and regret, staring out at the Vegas strip and trying hard not to think of how tightly my stomach is knotted.
