“No no no,” I chant, tilting my hips toward his mouth like an offering. “Yes. Almost. Please.”
The tip of his finger brushes a magical spot inside me and I tumble off the cliff into the storm, gleefully allowing myself to crash onto the rocks. Only they’re not jagged, they’re welcoming. They crack me open with the sharpest, most intense pleasure I’ve ever been given, leaving me in pieces on the shore, my spasming flesh making me feel like I’m still soaring up in the air. My body shakes, but I’m warm. So warm. Jason has let one leg drop at a time, carefully cradling me against the wall with his big body, his labored breaths loud and telling above my head.
The instinct to comfort has my hands lifting, trailing down his stomach toward his waistband. “Don’t,” he barks, snagging my wrists. “I need a fucking minute after watching how hot you get off. Naomi…Jesus. That pussy is the sweetest little thing I’ve ever tasted.” His jaw bunches, nostrils flaring. “You touch me and I’m going to come like a goddamn college kid.”
“I want to see that,” I breathe, rocked by the desire to see Jason lose his composure. I’m positive I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. “Please, Jason.”
“Playing dirty using my name.” His forehead falls to mine. “I love you saying it so bad.”
Being worshipped by this man, having him admit to things in the dark he would never say in the light, turns a crank in my chest. There’s bravery, too, crackling in my belly, just knowing I drove him to this breaking point. My right hand strays lower to lock around his erection, teasing him with gentle squeezes through his jeans, drawing a broken groan from his mouth that echoes down the alley. “Jason,” I whisper, going down on my knees. “Jason.”
“Naomi,” he grits through his teeth. He closes his eyes a moment, then braces one hand on the wall, the other going to his zipper. “The hell with it. I want that fucking mouth.”
I’ve spent my life in ball gowns and having men ma’am me to death. I’ve walked stages and been praised for being a classy Southern lady. And yet I’ve never felt more like a woman than right now, watching Jason jerk down his zipper with a shaking hand, needing to get himself inside my mouth. The insides of my thighs are damp, I’m wearing nothing but a T-shirt and my mascara must be running, but somehow I’m the most desirable woman in Florida. Jason makes me feel that way. I want him to feel that way, too.
From this vantage point, Jason is the sexiest, most powerful man I’ve ever witnessed up close, his body mapped with tattoos and hair, his expression fiercely…possessive. Of me. But also desperate. At my mercy. That combination turns me on all over again. If someone told me I’d be licking my lips for the feel of a man in my mouth, I wouldn’t have believed them. Here I am, though, excitement simmering in my blood as he takes his huge, swollen arousal out of his jeans, dragging his fist from root to tip. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah. You make it this way, baby.” He pumps his flesh a few quick times, groaning. “Come get a suck.”
I don’t even flinch now at the way he speaks to me, because his actions tell a different story. One of respect and protectiveness. This is about sex. That’s the language he’s speaking. I want to speak it with him. “Come get it.”
A low curse vibrates out of Jason and he walks forward, erection in hand, pants around his knees. He cups my chin in one hand and pulls it down. Firm, commanding. Needy. A second later, his smooth head glides across my tongue and the taste of salt travels down my throat.
“Son of a bitch.” He tugs himself back out of my mouth, face contorted in pleasure/pain, before dipping the thick weight back inside, inch by inch. “Fuck, I can’t believe I’ve got you on your knees. Thought I’d just be dreaming about it the rest of my life.”
My breath catches at his admission that he’s been dreaming about me. Needing a distraction from the pinch in my chest, I wrap my hands around his girth and stroke him toward my mouth, licking around the head in one slow revolution. “What do I do in these dreams?”
“Baby, you are a fucking dream. In a pinch, I can get off thinking of you in yoga pants and your pouty lower lip.” He steps closer, his booted foot bumping my outer thigh. “You sorry for making me suffer so long? Show me. Show me how you make nice.”
Keeping my eyes on Jason, I relax my throat and let him guide his hard flesh deep, blinking when he meets the back. It might have been uncomfortable with someone else, but I’m too mesmerized by Jason to register the tears that jump to my vision, the ground abrading my knees. No. His harsh grunt and another taste of salt make it worth the reflexive pressure of my throat. His flesh jumps inside my mouth as he retreats, thickens as he pushes deep again. Again. Again. Again. The way I’m affected, he might as well be inside me. My folds are slick, a lust-dazed feeling creeping over me, blocking out the entire world. The noise of the parade in the distance erodes, leaving nothing but the wet, sucking sounds of my mouth and Jason’s erratic breathing.