He moved down further, settling his head between my thighs. I closed my eyes and held my breath. No one had done this to me in years.
After what seemed like a lifetime, he treated me to one long, slow stroke of his tongue from bottom to top, his fingers pushing deeper inside me. I moaned louder than I intended to and caught my bottom lip in my teeth. But when he did it again, this time lingering at the top to tease my clit with the tip of his tongue, I cried out with even more abandon. Propping myself up on my elbows, I looked down at his dark head between my pale thighs. Was this even real?
“I had to taste you.” His voice was low and gravelly, and I struggled to hear him over the storm. “I was halfway home, soaked to the bone, and determined to put you out of my head, but all I could think about was tasting you.”
“I’m so glad you came back,” I whispered. “I didn’t want you to go.”
“You taste as sweet as you look,” he went on, pausing to circle his tongue in a slow, decadent spiral. “Like strawberries in June.” He flicked my clit with quick, hard strokes. “Cherries in July.” He sucked it into his mouth. “Peaches in August.”
“Christ, you can even make fruit sound sexy.”
“It’s you.” He tilted his head in a different direction, swirled his tongue from a new angle. “It’s all you.”
I wanted to tell him it wasn’t—it couldn’t be—wanted my hands on his body, wanted to lick him and suck him and taste him, wanted to drive him insane like he was doing to me—but I couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Higher and higher he took me, until I teetered at the edge of bliss and then sailed over, my clit throbbing against his tongue.
Desperate to feel his weight on me, I grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull him up. He took his time, lingering between my thighs like I was his favorite dessert and he didn’t want anyone to take the plate away, even though it was empty.
“Come up here,” I said. “Please.”
Reluctantly, he crawled up my body, his mouth hot and wet as he kissed a path up my stomach, between my breasts, up my throat, until his elbows were braced above my shoulders. I reached between us, positioned the tip of his cock between my legs, rubbed it over my clit, slipped it inside me. My entire body vibrated with need for him.
He lifted his hips, pulling out. “I didn’t plan for this. I don’t have—”
“It’s OK.”
“You’re sure?”
I nodded. “Please. I want to feel you there again.”
“Feel me where?” He slid into me, slow and controlled.
I smiled wickedly and moved my hands to his ass to pull him closer. “So deep it hurts,” I whispered in his ear. “I want you to tear me apart. Leave me bruised. Mark tonight on my body.”
“You shouldn’t say that to me.”
I gasped as he plunged in deep, the sharp twinge making me jump. “God, I love the way you move. Like you want me so badly you can’t hold back.”
“I can’t. No matter how hard I tried—and fucking hell, I tried.” He moved a little faster, rolling his hips over mine. “But you’re under my skin.”
Then I couldn’t talk anymore because his mouth was on mine, and I let my desire take over—I raked my nails across his back, took his lower lip between my teeth, pulled his hair, writhed and panted and gasped. Pleasure zinged along every nerve ending in my body like a live current. When I came again, I cried out his name as my body pulsed around his driving cock, my fingers digging into his ass. I felt wild, untamed, untethered—free to say and do and feel everything.
As the rippling waves tapered off, Jack pulled out and flipped me over. “Get on your knees.”
Heart still pounding against my ribs, I got on my hands and knees, wincing when he grabbed my hair. He yanked my head back as he pushed inside me—yes. He gripped one hip, holding me steady as he fucked me so hard, I could hear his hips smacking my ass—yes. He came fast, his body going stiff, a growl escaping his throat, his cock throbbing again and again inside me—yes.
He let go of me and fell forward, catching himself on his hands outside of mine. His forehead rested on the back of my head, his breath was warm and soft on my neck, and the rain still drummed against the cottage roof. Neither of us spoke.
A moment later he wrapped one arm around my stomach, holding me close to him.
My throat squeezed shut. I wanted to say things. I wanted to tell him that he was the best I’d ever had. I wanted to ask if he was OK. I wanted to know if I’d eased anything inside him. I wanted him to know how badly I too wished things were different. I wanted him to know I’d never regret this, I’d never forget him, I’d never stop wondering what if.
I opened my mouth, but he spoke first.
“Don’t go home tomorrow, Margot,” he said, tightening his arm around me. “Please. Don’t go.”
Twenty-One
Jack
Her body went still beneath mine. She’s holding her breath.