Stay With Me (26 page)

Say sex. Please say fucking me into the mattress.

“Dinner,” he said, clearly unaware of my inner slut. “I’m fixing something right now. Are you hungry?”

I looked down at my chicken potpie with apple crumble that had looked so appetizing just moments before. A home-cooked meal was sounding better and better.

“Starving.”

Sorry, Marie Callender.
I trotted my dinner tray right back to the kitchen and began wrapping it in foil.

“What are you making?”

“Something buttery and garlicky, and that’s all you need to know.”

“My siren song,” I sighed dramatically. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“I’m using salt too,” he teased.

My arteries gave a little shiver. “Make that twenty.”

I
WOKE
slowly, lingering in my foggy subconscious much longer than I usually did. I was comfortable and replete but somewhere I’d never been before. I stretched, reveling in the delicious soreness in my muscles, especially the tender region of my backside, before finally opening my eyes. My breath hitched on a swift intake of air. Well, then.

You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.

I silently agreed with my inner voice—Dorothy would have shat herself for a view like this. I wasn’t in my own bedroom; that was for sure. I had many things, but a complete glass wall that gave me a panoramic ocean view was not one of them. The ocean stretched before me like a painting in motion—midnight blue punctuated by dark shapes of rock, where the waves crashed and settled with white foam. The scene stretched as far as I could see, far into the distance, where the blackness of the sky melded into the dark rush of the ocean.

In a moment, it all came tumbling back. Jordan’s delicious chicken fricassee, eating on the deck, with the stars twinkling above and the ocean rushing up to meet us. Then someone had mentioned something about dessert (him), and someone had gotten suggestive and slutty (I won’t mention names), and we’d wound up tumbling into bed, tearing off clothes like they were made of paper. I couldn’t deny, just the memory was sending interesting messages to my cock, which twitched and let me know it was awake already.

I shifted to my other side, only to see him propped up against a pillow, laptop on his lap, staring at the screen intently. The incandescent light was bright on his face, and while I watched, he adjusted his glasses with a quick finger to the center of the frame.

“You’re looking sexy, professor.”

He looked startled for a moment, the look of someone awakened from deep concentration, and gave me a half smile. “You sleep well?”

“As well as I could. Someone used my ass like a speedway.”

He blushed, which made me laugh and made him hit my shoulder. “You loved it.”

“Every minute of it,” I said sincerely, catching him off guard.

His smile faded as he turned to put his computer on the nightstand. When he turned back, he leaned down to cup my chin. “You up for a round two?”

I pushed the covers down to my ankles, revealing my nakedness and already throbbing cock. “And a three and a four.”

His eyes went dark, and then his hands were on me, running down my sides and caressing my thighs. He rolled onto me, catching his weight on his elbows, and for a moment we just looked at each other, enjoying the charged energy, my cock trapped between us, jerking against his belly. His mouth descended slowly, and I didn’t close my eyes until the very last second, not until his mouth landed on mine and we began to devour each other. I had always thought kissing was a waste of time, just a prelude to the main event. I would never think that again.

A half whimper escaped my throat as I locked my hands in his hair. I thought maybe I could kiss Jordan forever, that maybe if the world was ending and fire was raining down all around us, I would reach up for just one more kiss like this.

But his kisses did other things to me and my insides, and all too soon, I had to move or die. I ground against him, my hands drifting down to cup and grip the perfectly muscled globes of his behind. “I need,” I managed against his ear.

Instead of sliding inside me like I wanted, he took my hands in a powerful grip and pinned them above my head. “Leave them there,” he growled, and I felt my cock jump in response. Turns out, I really like growly, bossy Jordan.

“But I’m ready now,” I whined.

“You’re always in such a goddamned rush,” he said, his mouth quirking in amusement. He kissed my mouth, then my chin, then down the sloped column of my neck, one precise kiss after another. “This time, I want to go slow.”

“That’s a great idea for next time,” I wheedled, moving my hands just the slightest bit and then stilling as he glared.

“Move them, and I
will
spank you.”

I groaned and snapped my hips against his a little, causing my cock to buck between us. That was so
not
the right thing to say if he wanted me to stop. The idea of lying on his lap, having him “discipline” me with his hand, smacking my ass until it was flushed and pink, flashed in my head. Then spearing my pink ass with that thick cock and pounding me… the mental imagery made me a little crazy.

His eyes went wide and then dark with understanding. And need. Raw need. “Hands still,” he ground out and then went back to work on my neck.

He played with my nipples, pulling and rubbing the sensitive brown nubs until I growled.

“There’s slow, and then there’s torture,” I informed him, a half second before he took a nipple between his teeth. I hissed as he nipped the bud and then sucked on it strongly.

When I looked up, his eyes sparkled with amusement. “Trust me, I know the difference.”

It was clear from his teasing licking and sucking that he did indeed. By the time he moved down to my quivering stomach, I was just about a puddle of goo. He nosed the throbbing column of my cock aside, scraping his teeth against my bellybutton, just enough to make me jump and let my cock slap back in place. A drop of creamy liquid pearled on the engorged, purplish head, and his nostrils flared. I knew he could smell my arousal. I certainly could. He dipped the tip of his tongue in the liquid and swirled it around, tasting delicately. My stomach clenched the clench of a thousand crunches, anticipating that moment when he would finally take me in his warmth, and I could fuck that pretty mouth. But he kept journeying instead, down past my cock to my trembling, splayed-open thighs.

I looked at him, flabbergasted. And he winked. The bastard winked as he massaged my thighs and then the tense muscles of my calves.

“Argh,” I grumbled. “Sadistic bastard.”

He pretended not to hear. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” I managed loudly, flinching when he nipped my calf with his teeth.

His magic fingers danced across my skin, sending me hurtling through stages of relaxing and tensing, as if my body couldn’t decide which one it wanted to do. As his hands stroked the soft skin underneath my thighs, my body decided on tension, and every muscle felt bowstring tight as I waited.

He gently took my balls in his hand, and I melted into the mattress with a groan. Twisted the sheets in my hands. Fast was good, but this… this was something else entirely. Now that he had primed my body, wreaked havoc on my senses, every touch was like fire. Every touch threatened to set me off. When his tongue swept over my sensitive entrance, I skyrocketed.

“Jordan!”

When he speared the pink hole with the point of his tongue and tunneled into my entrance, I saw black spots, flickering across my vision.

God.
A broken cry fell from my lips, and my eyes fluttered shut as I pulled my thighs tightly to my chest and locked my arms underneath. I felt torn apart by the sensation, incapable of speech. I didn’t know if I was going to survive, but I wasn’t going to miss a minute.

I writhed on the bed, moaning, wanting, needing more as he withdrew and penetrated me again, fucking me roughly with his tongue. I fought the explosion rising inside me, fought it with every fiber of my being, but it was useless. I could feel it coming as I mumbled nonsensically, tossing my head side to side. He replaced his tongue with one finger and then two, pushing slowly inside me to the knuckle, and I was done. My entire body shuddered as the orgasm ripped through me and hurtled through every nerve ending in my body from my fingertips to the tendons of my neck, stark against smooth skin.

“Fuck!” Air came surging back into my struggling lungs, and I lay there panting. “Fuck,” I said again weakly, because I couldn’t remember any other words yet. I didn’t know that losing control could be so much fucking fun.

His soft laugh was damned sexy. “What year is it? Do you know who the president is?”

“You’re a riot,” I managed. “Should take that act… on the road.”

My sarcasm would have had more impact if I hadn’t spasmed just then, shaking like a leaf as the aftershock passed through my body.

His eyes went dark. “You’re so crazy hot when you lose control like that.”

It was only then that I realized his fingers were still moving inside of me, thick and deep. Rubbing against my prostate in a way that made me grunt and bear down. Probably why I was still hard as a brick even though I’d just come harder than I’d ever come in my life.
I didn’t have stamina
, I groused. But somehow my body was made for this… made for him? All I knew was I’d never felt this before, never felt this
way
before, and I wasn’t ready for it to end. Instinctively, I felt my hips working with his questing fingers as they pumped in and out of my hole.

“You ready for me?” His voice was husky as he settled on his knees between my splayed thighs.

I raised an eyebrow. “You have to ask?”

My attitude was ruined as he pulled his fingers out of my grasping hole, and I whimpered at the loss. He rolled on a condom in no time at all and braced on his elbow. He guided himself into my entrance, pushing past the tight ring of muscle, rubbing against every ridge and groove on the way in. Though I urged him on with my hands, he was still, his heavy balls snug against my ass.

“Is it weird… that I’ve never felt this way before?”

My gaze shot up from our joining to his, and there was an open honesty there that shook me to my core. The look on his face was tender and caring, and it took my breath clean away.

“No,” I said thickly. “Not weird.”

He looked as if he wanted to say more and then gasped as my muscles began fluttering and grasping around him. He started to move, pulling nearly all the way back out and moving slowly back in. He sucked the skin of my neck, and I knew he was marking me. I didn’t care. Our bodies worked together like they were born that way, like beautiful synchronized music. Somewhere in the back of my hazy mind, I realized with a start that we weren’t having sex. We were making love.

Damn it.
My eyes felt a little wet. We weren’t supposed to make love. We were supposed to fuck. Have fun. What the hell were we doing? Before I could formulate an answer, his thrusting became more intense, angling across my prostate in a way that snatched the breath clean from my body. When he dragged back across it, I cried out, digging my fingers into his shoulders.

“Again,” I demanded. “Just like that.” I didn’t care what we were doing. Just do it again.

His fingers gripped my hips as he slammed across that spot again and again, picking up speed and setting a punishing pace—I could only hold on for the ride. Muscles stood out on his arms in stark relief beneath the honey-colored skin as he braced himself above me. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto my chest, and I wanted to feel it, taste the salty drops bursting against my tongue. I slammed my eyes shut against the visual feast to stave off my orgasm, but it was no use. The sounds of our lovemaking echoed in my ears—the slap of our thighs, his balls thudding against the crack of my ass, and our harsh breathing meshing and melding together.

“I’m… I’m…
.
” was all I managed as the most intense orgasm of my life shot through my spine and hurtled through my body. I tightened around Jordan’s cock with the force of my orgasm, and suddenly he shuddered and convulsed against me as the storm hurtled through him too. I felt him expand and pulse inside me and wondered if I’d ever get to feel him coming inside of me without the latex barrier. For now, this was enough, more than I’d thought I’d have, certainly.

We lay there for a moment, breathing like collided trains—wrecked, steam whistling from our collapsed bodies. I ran my hands absently over his sweat-slicked skin, wishing he’d never move, that he’d never have to pull out. Eventually he did move, just long enough to take off the condom, and I was gratified when the always-neat Jordan tossed it somewhere near the trash. He didn’t seem at all concerned if it made it in or not as he flopped back down beside me, facedown in the pillow, and buried his head between folded arms.

“You’re going to regret that in the morning,” I predicted to a mop of silky black hair. “You
are
fussy, you know.”

“I am not fussy.” His voice was muffled in the pillow.

“If there’s a drop of dirt or dust in this place, I haven’t seen it.”

“You haven’t looked. You’ve been too busy keeping me within three feet of the bed.”

“It wasn’t that hard.” I grinned.

When he unearthed half his face to turn to me, I could see the hint of a smile on his full lips. “Something sure was.”

“Oh, is it bad pun time already? I should have seen it
coming
,” I said, waggling my eyebrows.

He snorted into the pillow. “Your postcoital talk needs work.”

“At least I don’t use terms like postcoital.”

“There are worse things. Like a bedmate that never quiets down and sleeps.”

“I slept,” I reminded him. “You were working, so you don’t remember. What time is it anyway?”

He grunted in response, and I swatted his shoulder. I leaned over him, squashing him good (hopefully), and began groping the nightstand surface for my watch. Even as I almost knocked something off and pushed a water glass dangerously close to the edge, I continued to grope blindly—habit was so hard to break, and I’d been blind nightstand surfing my whole life.