“Y-yes.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” He captured her mouth again and again, his kiss going from aggressive to soft in a matter of seconds. His hands spread across her ass, fingers flexing against her skin as he deepened the kiss, his lips hungry in their pursuit.
He kissed her like he wanted her.
He touched her like he couldn’t get enough of her.
Jane reached up to touch his face. A shadow of a beard was already making an appearance, giving his skin an erotic roughness that made her clench her thighs together.
A small area of chest hair drew her attention away from his face. She trailed a finger down the middle of two impressive pecs to his perfectly chiseled abs. They didn’t make men like Brock anymore, ones who weren’t waxed and fake, or so thin and wiry that a curvy woman would be afraid of breaking them.
In his arms, she was small, perfect.
“Keep doing that and this is going to be over really fast,” he grumbled as she trailed her hands along his sides.
“Sorry.” She gulped. “I guess I didn’t think my touch would cause—”
“This.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it against his erection. “But it’s more than your touch; it’s every damn conversation, every look, every smile, causes this painful need to be inside you, to fuck society and my grandfather and every other person on this godforsaken planet that dares to tell me what I should be doing with my life rather than being in this bedroom, right now, with the only woman who’s ever made me want to say no.”
With each word, he seemed to grow beneath her hand, until she was sure he was going to spring free from his jeans.
With a gruff curse, he backed away from her and swallowed. “You do that to me. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.”
“I do,” she whispered.
He reached for her hips and then slid his hand between her thighs. She let out a moan. “You feel so good.”
“Let me make love to you.” His voice had changed, shifted, as his fingers started to press into her. “Please?”
Another jerky nod and then she was reaching for the button of his jeans, helping him undress while standing there like a naked hussy.
He shoved off the jeans, almost stumbling into her in an effort to be free from them. His boxers were next.
“Come here,” he growled, his mouth hot on her neck. He pinned her hands back against one of the bedposts as he took a nipple into his mouth and sucked. Her back pressed against the hard post as he assaulted her with his mouth making it impossible for her to escape.
She’d always been insecure about her breasts, thinking they were too small for her curvy body. In fact she’d been insecure about everything.
But Brock didn’t seem to mind.
Not at all.
And in the process of him kissing her, touching her, she realized she didn’t mind either; not at all.
His face was rough, the friction of it against her skin was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced. It was hard to remain standing with all the wonderful sensations flowing through her, and she started to tremble.
“I’m just getting started.” He kissed down her stomach, and his gaze moved over her body in what looked like reverence.
Apprehensive, she watched as he knelt in front of her, a wicked grin on his face.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“You should watch,” was his answer, right before he lowered his mouth between her thighs.
“No.” She squeezed her legs shut.
It was a bad idea.
But she didn’t know that until he reached between her legs again and hooked one over his large shoulder, holding it down, giving him a better angle, making it impossible for her to think as his tongue tasted the most sensitive part of her.
What was she doing?
She was so exposed!
But it felt. So. Good.
Her hips ground against him, her nails dug into his shoulders, both pushing him away and pulling him closer.
He wasn’t just kissing or exploring her, but sucking, coaxing, making her so unaware of her surroundings that all she could focus on was him, and how he made her feel.
A wave of anxiety was replaced with pleasure as her body pulsed with the rhythm of his mouth.
And then, she broke.
Shattering not just everything she knew about herself, or about sex, but about how it should feel.
With the right person.
With Brock.
His mouth slid to her right thigh as he released her leg.
“I’m not done,” he said, and tremors of pleasure still rocked through her as he slowly backed her up to the bed and lifted her onto it. “Lay down.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. The minute she laid down she jerked his head toward hers, kissing him as hard as she could, sucking his lips between her teeth.
He let out a hiss, deepening the kiss with so much aggression it was almost painful.