Five Weeks (Seven Series #3)

He bent down and stroked his tongue along the crease of my thigh and up to my navel. Then he slowly outlined one of my nipples with his tongue, and I released an anguished moan.

 

I opened my mouth, gasping for breath as he drove deep inside, stretching me wide and penetrating all the way to the hilt.

 

“Ah fuck, Isabelle… it’s so damn hot.” It almost sounded like a complaint, but he kept rocking against me, sliding in and out, filling me with an eruption of tingles and waves of pleasure. “Is this what it’s like?” he asked in a ragged breath, looking up at me with awareness burning in his eyes.

 

“I don’t know. You’re my first in heat.”

 

“Oh my God,” he breathed more than said. “I’ve never felt anything this sweet before.”

 

His eyelids fluttered as he stood up, holding my thighs and swiveling his hips in a maddening rhythm. Our skin slapped together and the surface of the dresser pulled at my back as I began to slide up.

 

“Mmmm.” I unabashedly moaned and cried out, over and over, gripping the sides of the dresser.

 

Jericho touched my lower belly, and his thumb stroked my sex masterfully while the other hand squeezed my breast. I felt a pinch here, a swirl there, a squeeze, and then he went faster. Our first time together, we’d made love. But this was animalistic.

 

Primal.

 

“Harder!” I screamed.

 

Jericho lifted my legs straight up in the air and rested them on his shoulders, changing how I felt everything.

 

“Oh, like that,” I breathed, wanting this to last forever.

 

“I can’t stop,” he panted. “Tell me to stop.”

 

“Don’t stop!”

 

“Please, Isabelle… Tell me to stop. I’m going to come… Oh fuck, tell me to stop.”

 

I cried out as a wave of heat engulfed me and pleasure squeezed me so tight my entire body locked up. I raised my hips off the surface. “Don’t stop. Faster, Jericho. Harder,” I begged, seeking my release. I couldn’t even formulate words anymore—I was so consumed by our passion.

 

He complied, as if his body were going against his will. The dresser made an awful complaint as the drawers shook and more cans fell off.

 

I bent my knees and lowered my legs, wrapping them tightly around his waist. Beads of sweat touched his brow, and his lips were swollen as he looked at me like a hungry animal. Jericho collapsed on top of me, and as soon as our bodies made contact, I arched my back and the most intense wave of pleasure struck me as I came.

 

So did he, and our duet of cries sounded better than any damn song he’d ever written.

 

Jericho tried to pull out, and when I wrapped my arms and legs around him, his eyes hardened like steel. He reached around and gripped a fistful of my hair, kissing me hard and thrusting as deep as he could. I gasped against his mouth. With that one gesture, he claimed me.

 

My body shuddered one last time before every craving and ache dissipated, as if it never was. So this is what it felt like to be sated by a man during heat? Hell’s bells. Now I understood with perfect clarity why women sought a mate. Usually when I was by myself, the craving still lingered.

 

Jericho stood up, and the cool air tightened my nipples. I’d never been more uncomfortable in all my life. I also hoped the next people who stayed in this room didn’t put their sandwiches on this dresser.

 

“I can’t do this, Isabelle,” he said out of breath.

 

“Do what?”

 

He raked his fingers through his stringy brown hair. “This… Whatever this is. It’s not right. I feel like I’m taking advantage of you. This isn’t how I wanted…”

 

I blinked a few times and covered my chest. My body felt glued to the wood and it was a Herculean effort to push myself up. I blinked in surprise as Jericho turned around, picking up my oversized white tank top and putting it on.

 

He folded up the Pink Floyd shirt and stood in front of me, tilting my chin up. “Sexybelle,” he whispered. His eyes studied the shape of my mouth, and then he handed me the shirt. “Put this on for me.”

 

“Why?”

 

A sexy grin slid up his face. “So I can take it off again.”

 

“No.”

 

His brows knitted. “Why don’t you want to wear this shirt?”

 

It wasn’t mine anymore.

 

He wasn’t mine.

 

His callused fingers stroked along my cheek and he dipped his head low, searching my eyes. “I love you, baby.”

 

The silence made me feel like the worst kind of villain. Now that all my carnal fire had been extinguished, my brain was starting to kick back into gear, and it always seemed to be in conflict with my heart.

 

He stroked my cheeks with his thumbs and admired me from the top of my head down to my thighs. “You’re the most beautiful song I’ve ever written.”

 

“You mean ridden?”

 

An irritated look flashed in his eyes. “You’re not one of those girls. I want to give you something, but I don’t know if you want it.”

 

His cheeks flushed, and he bit down on his lower lip. I’d never seen him look so… nervous.

 

“I don’t know how I feel, Jericho. Not after the other night.”