One Sweet Ride

“So, you get a lot of sex in this condo.”


“No. Not at all. Very little sex, in fact. I have very old neighbors and they . . .

complained once.”

“About how loud you were?”

She felt the blush heat her cheeks. “Yes.”

“I like loud.”

“I’ve just about trained it out of me.”

“We’re isolated here. There’s nobody nearby. You can scream your fucking head off and trust me, no one will hear you.”

“That sounds like an ad for a serial killer movie.”

He laughed. “Can you die from a really great orgasm?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

He gave her a look that made her toes curl, then spread her legs.

“I can guarantee you I can’t come sitting on your kitchen counter.”

He laid a palm on said counter. “Really. And why is that?”

She owed it to him to be honest. Might as well not have him waste his time. “I do enjoy sex. It’s just that . . . I have trouble coming unless I’m in certain positions.”

“Really. Who told you that?”

“No one. It’s my body. I’m difficult. So I don’t want you to work so hard when if you just lay me on the bed in a certain position, it’ll happen much easier for me.”

He shook his head. “All these don’ts and can’ts. I think you should just relax and enjoy it, no matter where it takes place.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t enjoy it, Gray. Just that I wouldn’t be able to come.”

He bent, kissed her, framing her face with his hands, his tongue diving in so deeply, his hand wrapping around her and pulling her close against him and kissing her so long she forgot all about where she was. He palmed her breast, his thumb lazily grazing a nipple until she thought she’d die from the sheer pleasure of it. And when he released her, he bent her backward and put his mouth on her nipple, taking it between his lips to nibble and suck until her * throbbed.

He laid her down on the counter and teased her other nipple. She gave up being uncomfortable or worrying about heading to the bedroom. They’d get there in time, and then maybe she could instruct him on the proper technique to make her— Oh. He palmed her sex and sucked her nipple, and now he swept his hand back and forth over the most sensitive part of her. And when he lifted one of her legs and laid it over his shoulder, she knew then it wouldn’t happen for her. Not in this position.

Except he kissed his way down her ribs, taking his damn sweet time about mapping her body with his tongue. She lifted onto her elbows, watching as he made his way south, dipping his tongue into her belly button. He rubbed his face across the hairs at the top of her sex, delving ever lower, his hand gliding across her the whole time, teasing her, making her wet, making her throb with need.

He slid his hand under her butt and raised her. And then he put his mouth on her, and oh, it was so good, his tongue warm and wet and so damned masterful. He knew where to lick her, and when he added a finger inside her, she quivered, tensing with need and anticipation.

He lifted his head. “Lie down, Evelyn. You don’t have to control this. Relax and enjoy it.”

She realized she was tense. All over. She rested her head on the counter and he put his mouth on her again, lazily lapping at her * like he’d go at it all night. She finally let go, realizing she had nothing to prove. She’d already told him she couldn’t, but the odd thing was, she could. She might. And as he worked her over with his magnificent tongue, she realized, oh, God, she was going to.

“Gray,” she murmured, gripping his forearm with her hand.

Of course, he didn’t answer her. He was too busy working magic on her sex, turning her world upside down, and dragging her right to the edge of reason.

This couldn’t be happening, not on his kitchen counter. Not in this position. But he knew just where, and just how, and he took his time, finding the spots that gave her the greatest pleasure. And when he hit them, tuned in to her cries and moans, he stayed there, driving his tongue and his fingers right to that spot until she arched, wrapping her leg around his head to hold him there while she hovered so close. So damn close she shook from the sheer pleasure of it.

He lifted his head, replacing his mouth with stroking fingers. “Let go, Evelyn. Let me hear you.”

She closed her eyes and when she felt the warm wetness of his tongue again, she flew.

And she cried out, remembering that she wasn’t in her condo, that she was free to scream out in release.

Her orgasm was a shock of intense pleasure, so surprising she could only buck against him while wave after wave blasted through her until she was so spent she lay there, unable to move.

Gray finally hovered above her, kissing her with soft brushes of his lips over hers.

She cupped her hand over the nape of his neck, feeling languid and satiated for the first time in so long.

Jaci Burton's books