“Maybe one day,” he said, “I’ll be able to get past the ghost of that fall.”
“No worries, I’ll just concentrate on your earlobe.” She took his earlobe between her teeth and lightly bit down.
That brought a moan and he clutched at the sheet with a fist. Aha! Good to know. Roan liked his ears nibbled.
She took her time, torturing him shamelessly before she finally scooted back down his body.
Roan ran his hand through her hair as Jazzy lowered her head and brought her mouth down over his hard shaft.
She licked and swirled, stroking her tongue up and down. Tasting his salty flavor. He moved his hips in rhythm with her mouth. The tension built and built until he rolled away from her.
“No, no. Not like this. Not the first time. I want to be inside you, Jazzy.”
Panting, she dropped to the floor. “I’ll go get the condom! Stay right where you are!”
She ran naked through Roan’s house, searching for where she’d left her purse when she heard a car door slam and the sound of Trinity and her grandmother walking up to the back door.
Con, Jazzy thought as she froze deer-in-the-headlights style.He’s got a kid who’s about to see you naked.
Chapter 17
Jazzy burst through the guest bedroom door.
“I haven’t twitched a muscle,” Roan said, lying supine, his stiff penis jutting proudly in the air. “Promise.”
“Get up! Get up! Your mom and Trinity are back!”
“Oh, sheet cake!” Roan leaped from the bed.
The back door slammed closed.
“They’re in the house!” Roan and Jazzy whispered simultaneously and stared at each other, wide-eyed and alarmed.
“Roan?” his mother called. “Jazzy?”
“Get dressed!”
They both grabbed for their jeans. Roan yanked his pants up, but they stopped at his knees.
“What the heck?” he muttered, looking perplexed.
At the same moment, Jazzy’s baggy jeans pulled up almost to her breasts. “Wh-what?”
“Roan? Jazzy?” Footsteps.
“Daddy?” Trinity’s little voice sent fresh panic shooting through Jazzy.
Roan looked down at the jeans stuck on his lower thighs, then darted his gaze back to Jazzy’s.
“Wrong jeans,” they said.
Shucking off their pants, they handed them to each other. Roan pulled on his jeans, grabbed his T-shirt, and raked a hand through his hair. He looked as deranged as Jazzy felt.
“Yew-hoo?” His mother’s voice was moving away from the guest bedroom, thank heavens.
“Daddy?”
“Stay here,” Roan hissed softly.