Stay With Me (19 page)

“Until you ask for something more,” I said, thoroughly exasperated.

His eyes glinted devilishly, and suddenly his face was very close to mine. “I’m asking for more.”

“Like what?”

“Kiss me.”

I swallowed hard. “That works too.”

Apparently, when Jordan made a decision, he was all in. I was suddenly glad the restaurant had such dim lighting—I had a monster hard-on, and I hadn’t even touched my lips to his yet.

I couldn’t turn my brain off, even as I relished the thought of getting his silky soft lips against mine again. After all of my badgering him to make a decision, he had, and now I was the one filled with doubt. I had gone through this before with Trevor. I didn’t know if I could go through that again. My catch and release program was hell on the nerves.

I stopped, close enough for our noses to touch, close enough to see the black limbal ring around his iris. “Are you sure?”

He closed the distance between our mouths with no hesitation, and suddenly I couldn’t think at all. His mouth worked mine over so thoroughly that I barely participated, only took what he had to give. He worked his tongue into my mouth so seamlessly I wasn’t even aware he’d done it until I was dueling his tongue with my own, sliding against his in a way that made my stomach clench violently. When he sucked on my tongue, I whimpered into his mouth, embarrassed that the sound had even come from me but unable to care enough to stop.

When he tore his mouth away, we were both breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against mine until we regained normal breathing ability.

“I want it,” he said hoarsely. “All of it.”

“All of what?”

“All of those things you said. Tasting you. Feeling you. Making you come. I haven’t been able to think about anything else without your voice running through my head. Thanks for that, by the way,” he said with a glare.

“I didn’t know that,” I said stupidly. Of course I hadn’t. If I had, he would have been flat on his back in my bed the moment I saw him on my stoop.

“And now that you do?”

Images flew through my head so quickly I couldn’t even sort through them, but I knew we were naked in the majority of them. Good enough. I grabbed his hand in response. “Let’s get out of here.”

“But what about the movies?” he said innocently as I dragged him along.

“If you have a video camera, I’m feeling a little creative.”

W
E
’
RE
LUCKY
we didn’t get arrested for public indecency for making out in the car. Or the street, Jordan’s hands firmly cupping my ass and lifting me against his rigid cock. Or fumbling our way back into my apartment before finally slamming me against the door. I’d never been quite so glad to get a door between me and prying eyes before as I sank to my knees and mouthed his cock through his jeans.

He hissed. “God, the way you get me going should be a crime.”

“I haven’t even started yet,” I said, managing to undo his zipper and boxer flap one-handed. I couldn’t be bothered with buckles and buttons as I slid his erection through the space. My nostrils flared at the sharp smell of his arousal, and my mouth watered at the sight of precum already leaking around the head of his cock. God, he was so beautiful. And for now, he was all mine.

I couldn’t wait to taste him. I wanted to bite him, to lick his skin like the salt on the rim of a glass right before the smooth slide of margarita. And for once, there was nothing stopping me.

I didn’t bother with the preliminaries. I sucked him down to the root without hesitation, without a drop of resistance. He groaned like he was dying of some terrible malaise, his head slamming back against the wall so hard I feared permanent damage.

“You okay?” I managed around his dick.

“Better. Than. Okay.” Another groan escaped, and his flat stomach expanded under my palm as he struggled to get his breathing under control. “Please don’t stop.”

“You give me too much credit,” I said, swirling my tongue in the pool of cum at the tip of his cock. “I don’t think anything short of a hurricane could stop me now.”

“Best news I’ve heard all day.” He ran his hands through my hair, but his fingers didn’t push or pull. They seemed to just be digging into my hair, massaging and luxuriating there.

He bucked up to meet my increased suction, and my hands shot up to still his hips. If he started face-fucking me, I was done, and this time, I wanted something a little more. We seemed to be of one accord as he pulled me to my feet and took my mouth in a mind-melting kiss.

I pushed him back. “The couch,” I demanded.

On my way there, I could hear him behind me shucking his clothes—the belt buckle hitting the floor, the rustle of jeans. I followed suit, leaving a trail of clothing wherever they fell. We came together naked at the couch, and I pulled him down on top of me. I buried my face in his neck as we ground against each other, spreading my legs wider to increase the friction. I would be embarrassed later, but for now I just wanted as much skin-to-skin contact as I could possibly have.

After a moment, he wrenched my wrists together. “Tell me what do to before it’s too late.”

Crap. The supplies. “I need a minute.”

I tried to get up, but he forced me back down, running his hands down the strong lines of my thighs, currently spread like a wanton slut. When his finger slipped into my hole, I lost the power of speech and the will to make rational decisions. I’d forgotten what a butt slut I could be, but his finger sliding into the tight heat brought my predilections screaming back. My eyes slammed shut, and my heels dug into the couch cushions.

“Yessss,” was all I could manage, as that insistent digit played me like a master pianist.

“You go nowhere. I’ve been dreaming of having you here, just like this.”

“We need lube. Condoms,” I gasped out.

His tongue swathed a path from my balls and in between my cheeks, and a shiver rippled down my spine. I felt his hands underneath my hips suddenly, spreading me farther apart, holding me immobile. Bossy fucking top. I’d known he would be. He hesitated at my sensitive opening, his breath misting across my skin. I waited breathlessly, knowing what he
wanted
to do. I just wasn’t sure if he
could
, despite what he’d said to the contrary.

His jaw tightened, and
suddenly his tongue was sliding into my hole, warm, wet, and demanding.

“Holy fucking shit,” I blurted.

His tongue twisted and unfurled in my ass, teasing me, exploring me, until he was tongue fucking me relentlessly. I couldn’t stay still. Couldn’t breathe. Restlessly shifting as I made noises I’d never heard another human make before. I twisted my fingers in his hair, pulling him up. Thought I’d wind up with tufts in my hands when I was done.

“Need you,” I demanded. “Now.”

“You’ve got me,” he muttered as he teased my entrance with the head of his cock.

“Might be easier if I turn over,” I suggested as his mouth trailed down my pecs. My breath stuttered in my chest as he began teasing my swollen nipples.

“I want to see you. See your face.”

I bit back my refusal, wondering why it left me so rattled. It was just so intimate, so immediate. I wasn’t ready for that. But I was more than ready for his cock. My slutty side won out, and I ran my hands down the definitions of muscle in his tanned stomach.

He hung long and thick between my cheeks, creating friction as he tunneled there. He took my mouth, and I knew at that moment that it would never be like this with anyone else, never be better than this at all.

“Where?” he ground out, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.

“Bedroom. Side drawer.”

He was back before I could get a good rhythm going stroking my cock, and he rolled the condom on with little ado. He struggled with the cap of the lube for a moment, looking adorably flustered, before spreading way too much on the rim of my hole.

“Holy K-Y, Batman,” I grumbled, but I had to admit I enjoyed the glide of his finger as he worked the lube around and in my hole. And from the looks of his swollen cock—the thick head leaking, the strong column jerking and jumping against his stomach—I was going to need it. Even a seasoned pro like myself (no cracks, dammit) appreciated a little prep work. I whimpered and canted my hips up a bit, ignoring the bastard’s cheeky grin.

“I must be doing something right.”

“Add a finger,” I said, bearing down on the one I had.

He did, and I moaned like the good butt slut I was. He finger-fucked me, working the fingers in past the knuckle and swiping that little walnut-sized bundle of nerves that I love oh so much.

“Yessss,” I hissed, my hand circling his wrist. I didn’t know whether it was to stop him or clock him if he actually did.

When he finally removed his fingers from my prepped channel, I groaned with regret. There really
wasn’t
anything he didn’t do well, and finger-fucking was no exception. He pressed his lips to mine, hard, while positioning himself at my entrance. He eased the engorged head past the ring of muscle, gripping my hands in his. I wanted to pull away, look away, move away, but he just gripped my hands tighter where they were pinned, next to my head. And then he entered me in one swift plunge that left us both gasping.

My back went ramrod straight as I adjusted to his girth, his length. Goddamn, did he have to have so much of both? I slipped my hands from his and put them firmly on his flanks, holding him immobile, gratified to feel the shaking there. It didn’t look like he was holding on to his control by very much.

 “Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, dropping kisses on my cheeks and lips in apology. “I should’ve gone slower.”

His mouth on my neck and his hand on my dick had me going in less than a minute. Every one of my senses seemed enhanced, my skin sensitive to the slightest of touches. His breath rasped in my ear. I could feel him pulsing inside my inner walls, my hole deliciously stretched and quivering around his cock.

“Shit,” he swore. “You feel like a goddamned vise.”

“Move,” I said hoarsely. I needed to be fucked. Now.

His hands locked around my hips, he began a slow rhythm, pulling almost all the way out and then pushing back in. He seemed mesmerized by the sight of our joining, the sight of his thick cock stretching me impossibly, deliciously. I was equally mesmerized by the wonder on his face, the satisfaction that I’d put that look there. I worked my muscles around his cock in a way that had his face contorting, the muscles in his shoulders tensing.

“You keep that up and I’ll only last a minute,” he warned me.

“That’s all you have?” I taunted, working my ass like a separate entity.
Good Lord, was I twerking
?

He gave a pained laugh and pressed his forehead to mine. “Shut up, Mackenzie.”

He began thrusting into me in a way that made talking (if I’d been so inclined) impossible. Suddenly he was pounding me into the couch, and I was taking it and loving it. I slammed my ass back against him, meeting him stroke for stroke. When the curve of his dick met my prostate, I nearly shot off the couch.

“Fuck!”

He looked shocked and pleased as he hit that spot again, damn him. Or bless him. Or whatever, as he began ramming that spot for all he was worth. I began pulling at my dick with a shaking hand, jerking myself with no rhythm whatsoever. Stars began twinkling in the edges of my blackened vision, and a stream of cursing, swearing, and nonsense filled the air as he fucked me into the couch.

My limbs felt cold and heavy as my climax ripped through my body, and a scream (manly yell, I mean) erupted from somewhere in my throat region. My body shook uncontrollably even as I registered somewhere in my fogginess his groan and the warm feel as the condom filled in my ass.

He was heavy, his face buried in my neck. He mumbled something in my ear about smothering me, but I wasn’t ready to move him just yet. I ran my hands down the sweat-slick muscles in his back and up to the strong column of his neck, pressing him farther down on me.

“You good?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm.”

“I guess that’s good.” He sounded ridiculously pleased with himself.

“Yeah,” I said when I could manage real words again. “I guess it is.”

A
STRANGE
buzzing sound jarred me out of sleep and into the land of the living. I opened my eye a crack, trying to examine the room with just one rolling retina, until a shaft of sunlight stabbed me clean in the eye. I groaned and rolled to a sitting position, swinging my feet off the couch. I could feel all the muscles I’d abused that night coming alive and protesting as I groped the floor for Jordan’s pants. When I encountered the jeans, I shook out his phone and pressed snooze, then tossed it on the couch. I was alone and… naked, but he was still here, somewhere, which was either reassuring or irritating; I couldn’t decide which. Reassuring that he hadn’t taken off, but irritating if I’d just caught him making his escape.

I rubbed a hand over my rooster hair and stumbled to the bathroom. I drew up short next to the bathroom door, hearing the shower going. I thought about knocking for a scant moment before shrugging. He’d had his tongue in my ass—I assumed we were past shyness. I opened the door to a cloud of steam and made my way to the toilet, taking care of business with little ado.

“Do you ever knock?”

I grinned a grin that ended in a yawn, even though my eyes were closed. “It’s my place.”

He laughed, and after a flush, I turned to leer at him through the glass. His body was a study of beautiful definition, rivulets of water cascading down his shoulders and back. His hair was dark with water and slicked in a thousand different directions with gel shampoo.

“You look good enough to eat,” I managed.

“You should talk.”

“We should have gone to the bed last night.” I stretched, scratching my stomach. “I think I have a crick in my neck.”

“I think I could help you with that.”

“Oh yeah?” My brows went high. “You could have helped me with that in, oh, say three hours too.”