Reawakening (18 page)

“I think this is what it feels like when your entire body hiccups,” she said, just as he finally managed to pull the jersey free.

At which point, she noticed that he was straddling her thighs.

When had
that
happened? Hell—when had she sprawled back on the bed? She couldn’t remember, but that was okay. Because with him over her like that, it made it very easy for him to lean down suddenly and put his mouth on hers.

The hiccupping stopped then. Mainly because it was hard to concentrate on anything but his lips and the way they moved so soft over hers, and oh was that his tongue? Yeah. Definitely some tongue.

It wasn’t like the kiss he’d given her before. That one had been all slow and sleepy and cautious, as though he’d been sensible of the idea that she could have jumped away at any moment. This one was forceful and it had a little frantic note to it—though she couldn’t say if that was down to her, or down to him.

She definitely had a hand in his hair before he’d gotten to anything like passionate. And she could feel herself wanting to grip a handful of it into her fist, or maybe make some panting, breathy noises into his mouth, or just, you know. Rub herself up against him. Would he be okay with that?

He seemed to be okay with her hands on his zipper. And when she couldn’t kiss him anymore because every nerve in her body had decided to cram itself between her legs, that was okay too. He took over just as she couldn’t manage to do anything but sprawl back on the bed, lust-choked and noodle-like.

And he was good at it, too. She barely noticed him turning her just a little—just so he could get at the fastenings on her bra. The whole thing came off without her having to consider it too much, then he unbuttoned her trousers, too, and all she could think was
if I’d known it was going to be this easy, I would have done it wa-a-ay sooner.

Because it was, oh it was. Being naked really wasn’t that bad. The air felt good and cool against her skin after all this time of covering up, and she found herself marveling over little things, like goose bumps. Goose bumps that had nothing to do with something creepy or awful. All her little hairs were standing up because she could feel something cool and delicious breezing over her skin, and that was nice. It was a good, new, alive sensation.

Plus he was looking at her. And that was another good, new, alive sensation. She tried to recall the last time someone had seen her like this and failed miserably. Had she ever even had any kind of sex where someone took off all of her clothes first before staring down at her naked body?

She didn’t think so. But it was much better than people gave it credit for. His gaze darted over everything on her at first, as though he needed to take it in quick before it went away. But then he seemed to settle and that same gaze just…eased over every part of her.

It was weird, how unselfconscious the whole thing made her feel. She couldn’t even care when he maneuvered backwards off the bed, just so he could take in the whole length of her body—from the soft curve of her thighs to the swell of her breasts to those little hollows, just above her collarbone.

She had hollows, now, she noted. And her hipbones jutted out just a little. Funny, the things you noticed—she couldn’t remember her skin being this pale before. It almost glowed in the caramel light of the bedroom and she couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not. Her breasts—yeah, sure, they were a good thing. They looked plump and firm and her nipples had hardened to little points, which she was sure men liked. But all the paleness?

Thankfully, his expression gave her an answer. Lids too heavy over his eyes, suddenly, eyes all dark with something she hadn’t seen before. Had he looked this way when they’d kissed? When he touched her? She felt sure she would have remembered if he had. He looked so greedy and when she managed to tear her eyes away from his face, she could see something making a heavy, jutting shape in his trousers.

It made her squirm. It made her want to rut against something. And it got worse when he said, quite suddenly—

“Turn over.”

He didn’t sound like himself but that was fine. She didn’t feel like herself. She felt like someone who wanted to turn over so that he could get a look at anything he wanted, oh anything at all. He wanted to look at her ass? Yeah, that was cool. He wanted to say horny things like
Jesus, baby, I just want to rub my cock all over you
? Yeah, that was cool, too.

In fact it was so cool that she briefly had a minor embolism. Or at the very least,
something
exploded, somewhere. And possibly it wasn’t in her head—it felt much more like it happened between her legs—but who cared, really?

It was good, whatever it was. She found herself making a little noise, and he seemed to appreciate it. He appreciated it by suddenly kneeling on the bed really close to her and running a hand all the way down from her shoulder to the curve of her ass.

It wasn’t his cock, but hey. She’d take whatever she could get.

“Was another person’s skin always as soft as this?” he asked, and this time it wasn’t a glaring stand-out word like cock that sent a bloom of pleasure through her sex. It was the tone of his voice, all wondering and slightly up and down. And it was the feel of his hand, not as rough as she’d expected but just as good as the one her mind had often conjured up.

He didn’t grab, that was the thing. If ever there’d been a time for grabbing, now was definitely it. But he bypassed grab and went straight for stroke, caress, fondle—oh yes, that was the right word.
Fondle
.

He hadn’t seemed like a fondle sort of man, but really, what did she know? Apparently he wanted to cup one cheek of her ass as though it was made of something slightly fragile but in desperate need of exploration.

And there was nothing wrong with that
at all
. In fact, when he squeezed just ever so lightly, she had to bury her face in the sheets. She had to make a long, air-going-out-of-her noise, just because it was so…oh it was so.

At last, at last, thank God at last
she thought then almost laughed at herself for being so grateful over an ass squeeze.

“You okay, June? You just tell me if you want me to stop, got it?”

He really was nuts. Just totally insane.
Stop
? Dear God, what on earth made him think she would ever, ever want him to stop? Didn’t he know how much her flesh was used to nothing, or maybe used to bruises, or possibly other things so quick and brutal?

This was like being slowly pushed into heaven by comparison. She wanted to tell him to go faster, go faster, but feared that would spoil the delicious anticipation. Her body deserved some anticipation, some build up, after years of in your face and right now.

“No. No. Carry on,” she tried to say, but it came out weird. Probably due to the bed sheet she’d tried to cram into her mouth.

“You sure? You’re kinda shaking all over, June-bug.”

For some reason, his bringing that very real fact to her attention made it worse. Another kick of sensation went through her already molten sex, and she shivered harder. Made probably embarrassing noises. Made more of them when she considered how it must be for him. After all, she’d had someone touch her in the not too distant past. He’d had no one for great stretches of time—unless maybe he and Blake had…

God, God, she didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. Oh no, no, no. A hand on her was too much. The idea of him and Blake going at it would undoubtedly throw her over the edge into some squirming pit of total horniness.

“Hey, hey—take it easy. Take it easy,” he said and for a moment she thought he was going to do the very worst thing he could have done. He was going to pet her and tell her that it was okay, that they could go slow, no big deal.

But then, she’d kind of forgotten how totally awesome Jamie was. He was so awesome that when she made a noise like somebody dying, he just slid a hand all the way down and right between her legs.

Just like that.

Then he said things. Amazing things. She was absolutely going to stop praying to Jesus and start praying to Jamie.

“Oh honey,” he said. “You’re soaking wet.”

Which didn’t sound like any gospel she’d ever heard of. She was pretty sure that no religious texts started off with the words honey and wet. But oh, surely that’s what they’d all been missing, all of these years. War would have been eradicated long ago if only people had started out their morning prayers with lots of talk about how totally aroused they all were.

“Is this what you want, huh?” he said, and she marveled at his ability to make the smallest thing sound dirty.

Though she suspected that the dirtiness had something to do with him sliding two fingers all the way into her, slow and easy as you please. Yeah, it probably had something to do with that.

Plus, he said a whole bunch of other stuff, like
God you’re tight
and
fuck, I’d forgotten how hot and wet it feels
and the absolute best one—

“But I bet you don’t want it here, right? Not right now, at least. You want me to touch your clit, huh, baby? Yeah, I bet you do. You look like you’re dying for it, just the way I am.”

Oh God, was he dying for it? Of course she knew he was but even so. It sounded
hot
when he said it out loud. So hot that she could barely take it when he palmed her thighs all the way apart and slid those two maddening fingers down through her embarrassingly slick slit.

Most of her wanted to arch up toward that touch. Just the thought of how that would look—on her stomach, pushing back like a dog in heat—made arousal shimmy its way through her body. And yet when he got close…no. No.

It was like getting zapped with the sex innuendo cattle prod again. Only this time, the cattle prod was powered by enough electricity to light up New York City.

He laughed. Of course he did. She would have laughed if she’d seen someone shoot up off the bed the way she did, on feeling his fingertips graze the underside of her clit. She came close to banging into the headboard, for God’s sake. Her legs scrambled against the sheets, like someone trying to ride a bike without a bike anywhere in the vicinity.

Only there was nowhere to go. And he had a hand on her thigh before she’d gotten halfway to escaping. And when she tried to protest again or otherwise tell him that she couldn’t take it, he sunk firm fingers in and tugged her down the bed. Got those hands up around her hips, as though he was going to suddenly drag her back onto his cock.

She thought again of how it must look—even ruder now, she was sure. Her legs felt really spread apart and her ass was in the air and all that silky wetness was exposed to his gaze. Was he looking? She kind of felt as though he was, and it made everything tingle and buzz a little harder. Especially when he said things like—

“That a little too much, huh? Yeah, I get that. Right at this current moment in time, I can’t even stand feeling my zipper pressing into my dick. Lord knows what’s going to happen if you’re ever good enough to let me get into that pretty little pussy.” On the word
pussy
, he sank two fingers all the way back in again. Just like that. Firm and sure as could be, as though he knew anything less would make her want to bike up the bed again. “I think I might die in something as hot and wet as this.”

She was going to die if he kept on doing what he was doing. The trouble was, he didn’t just plunge in and out. He kind of turned his fingers, and curled them, and rocked them over mysterious, interesting places inside her. He spread them apart and opened her up, until she had to stuff something into her mouth again.

“Oh,” he said. “Look how nice you take that.”

Then not even the pillow was good enough as a sound stifle-r.

“
Jamie, Jamie just…Jamie…” she tried to say, but really all it amounted to was a lot of his name. There wasn’t anything of substance in there, like a bit of real begging or pleading. Though fortunately, she found that she didn’t really need to do either of those things. A person didn’t need to beg when they’d already gotten to the place they needed to get to.

And she was definitely almost at that place. There he was, just casually sliding his fingers back and forth inside her slippery sex, and here she was, about to have an orgasm. She could actually feel it starting up in her trembling thighs and her tensing belly. It was making her force out weird choking noises. He was saying stuff but she couldn’t really hear him because holy shit, he was doing barely anything and she was going to have an orgasm.

Though she made it out loud and clear when he went with—

“Aw, honey—you sound real ready for it. You always get like this? All on edge like this, just about a second away from coming, before we’ve even started?”

How did he
know
? She didn’t even know and she was the one about to do it.

“You know, most women can’t come easy, this way. But it’s good to know you can, ‘cause baby I’m gonna work you so good on my cock, I swear to God.”

She tried to
eat
the pillow. Screaming into it just wasn’t good enough. She wished she could say that it sounded like he was bragging or all talk, but it didn’t, it just didn’t and oh Lord she was going to come so—

“And I think I’ll just stop you right there.”