Thrown Down (Made in Jersey #2)

Confusion invaded at the cracking of Vaughn’s voice, at his visible attempts to gather himself. It didn’t make sense. Or maybe it made perfect sense. Maybe the attraction had only ever been physical. In that moment, she could convince herself that suited her just fine. She’d worry about the rest later.

Unwilling to stray from the heat they’d kindled and venture into the dangerous territory of her memories, River ambled backward and slowly removed her T-shirt, pulse stuttering like crazy under Vaughn’s perusal. His manhood stood, proud and brutish, in the opening of his jeans, one of his hands hovering an inch away, as if he needed to stroke himself but held back. “Tell me you’re sure,” he demanded.

She continued her languid retreat, falling onto the couch and pulling her hair back into a ponytail, the way he’d always asked. With that gesture, no other words were necessary. Vaughn wrapped a masculine hand around his length and obliterated the distance to River, straddling her thighs, looming over her in a kneeling position. So familiar, but not. The stakes made it different, but the lust… Oh God, the lust, never having faded, had caught them both in an inescapable trap.

“We need that pretty ponytail, don’t we, doll?” His fist rode in a tight squeeze up and down his erection, turning it a deeper shade of ruddy tan, right in front of her panting, parted lips. “So I can tear your mouth away when you get too keyed up. You get so excited you forget to breathe sometimes. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” River whimpered, flicking her tongue out to swipe the tip. His taste. It was in her blood…and her blood responded to the long lost perfection, pumping, thrilling toward Vaughn. “I need it. Please.”

Circling her neck loosely, Vaughn pressed the back of River’s head against the cushion, making sure to drape her ponytail over the back of the couch. For access, River realized with another aching shiver of longing. “Remember the first time you sucked my dick?” His head fell forward, shook side to side. “You didn’t know if you would like it, so we held off. And held off. Until I started dripping in my jeans every time you licked an ice cream cone, or put on that cherry ChapStick. Fuck.”

There he is. There’s that filthy man. Always lurking. Warmth rose up around her like a lazy river, lapping at the notch between her legs. River’s hands drifted up her bare stomach to pinch at her nipples, mesmerized by the self-pleasuring hand working overtime. “You always do this.” Her voice shook. “You talk until I go crazy.”

Vaughn dragged the head of his arousal across River’s damp lips. “You love every dirty word. The seam of your jeans is already dark blue.” Before River had a chance to respond, Vaughn took advantage of her open mouth, easing his hard flesh inside. “Oh fuuuuuck.”

River tightened her lips around him and drew back on a long suck, encouraging him with a moan to give her more, but he tugged out of her mouth instead. “Vaughn—”

He took River’s ponytail and lifted, snapping her spine straight and arching her back. “I asked you a question,” he rasped. “Do you remember the first time?”

She took only the smallest pause before she answered. “Yes.”

As he wrapped the ponytail around his fist, an answering knot wound itself in River’s belly, a delicious, twisting binding that yanked tight when Vaughn spoke again. “You called me in the middle of the night to say you were ready. You know how fast I drove to get to your unfucked mouth?” He dipped the head of his arousal past her eager lips, moved the pulsing flesh back and forth, before slipping back out. “You might have started slow, doll, but by the time it was over, I had to dig your nails out of my ass.”

Vaughn’s hips rolled forward, pushing his erection to the back of River’s throat with a closed-lipped groan.

“Who’d have thought the town sweetheart would have no gag reflex, huh?”

River moaned around the flesh invading her mouth, her hands gliding up the hips that pinned her to the couch. She circled them around to Vaughn’s backside, reacquainting her palms with the swell of his taut, rounded male cheeks, stroking her nails downward and enjoying his almost violent shudder. Her ponytail was snared in Vaughn’s fist, and he used it as a rein, holding her against the cushion and making sure she didn’t follow when he reared his hips back.

“Fuck yeah. Right there, doll. You stay right there. Let me sink it in until I can’t no more.” Accent thickening, he growled through a stilted headshake as he started to pump. “I used to think if someone walked in while I was halfway down your nineteen-year-old throat, they wouldn’t believe you’d begged for it. But you did, huh? After that first time, you would pout until I took my cock out and let you play.”