Digging my fingers into her, I press her even more tightly against my mouth and work a pair of fingers into her fist-tight sheath, already tightening and clamping around my digits.
“Jett!”
I barely have a moment to relish the heady broken cry of her surrender before her entire body jolts and shudders. Then she’s clutching, clasping, and breaking around me. Her nipples peak. Hips to cheeks, her body flushes a splashing rosy red. Her lips part, and her eyes flash open.
Our gazes meet in the overhead mirror.
I’ve got her. We both know it.
I ride her to the end of her orgasm, until she’s struggling to recover her breath and her body turns limp, until she sighs sweetly and reaches for me.
I can’t wait another second to claim her.
Goddamn it, I hope she’s the last woman I have sex with for the rest of my life.
I crawl up her sated body, taking advantage of her spread legs to fit my hips between them. With one hand, I cup her nape and fit our mouths together, reveling in the fact that her kiss no longer holds fight, just sweet, open acceptance. I work my free hand between us, make quick work of my zipper, then get my cock free just enough to align my crest to her still-pulsing opening.
Her eyes flutter open. Worry crosses her face. “Jett.”
I grit my teeth. I’ve waited eight years to be inside her, but I can tell she needs to say something. “What, princess?”
“Gently.” She swallows. “Please.”
Everything—both the anger and the passion—is so hot between us. And all this time, she’s fought back. Now she’s asking me for mercy. Why? If I wasn’t so rabid to be inside her, I might be able to apply two brain cells toward finding the answer. But I can’t.
“All right, I will. For you.”
“Thank you.” She smooths her hands up my arms, then cups my shoulders as she spreads her legs wider in silent invitation.
Jesus, how am I supposed to maintain any self-control?
I’m still trying to figure that out when I sink the head of my cock inside her.
And I run into resistance.
Whitney isn’t merely tight, she’s… I freeze. No. That’s not possible. There’s no way.
“Jett?”
“You’re not…” But she seemingly is. “Still a…virgin?”
Slowly, she bites her lips. Then she nods.
Holy shit.
And yet, she came here to spend a week with me, knowing full well I intended to fuck her?
That small, problem-solving corner of my brain is working overtime to figure out if that means what I desperately want it to. The rest of me has shoved off all mental protective gear.
I’m dying to be her first.
If I play this right, will I be her only?
At that notion, my heart thuds and thumps. Waiting doesn’t feel like an option. Sure, we could talk, but I don’t want to give her any reason—or opportunity—to get away.
“Oh, princess.” I nudge inside her, incrementally working my way through her slick clasp until I lunge deep into her with one softly insistent thrust. Then I rock my hips forward, pressing as far into her as I can. “Now you’re mine.”
Finally.
If she has any objection, I don’t want to hear it in this moment. At least this once, I want the fuck of my fantasies, where I’m deep inside her, bareback, for the first time, and she’s with me, thrust for thrust, cry for cry, all the way to the scratching, hoarse-throated, cataclysmic end.
She lets out a soft, shuddering breath, her eyes sliding half shut.
“Right?” I prompt as I withdraw from her so slowly I groan the question.
“Yes,” she breathes.
“Tell me who you belong to.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “You, Jett.”
“That’s right.” I glide back in and set up a rhythm I suspect will unravel her restraint. “How long have you belonged to me?”
Her lashes flutter open. I see tears swimming there. “Always.”
That’s it. With one trembling admission, there’s no denying she still owns my heart, too.
I dreamed up this scheme to indulge my every desperate desire, to show her what she was missing, to purge her from my system once and for all.
She’s felled me instead. Now, my only hope is to fight to keep her.
“And I’m yours.” I press inside her again, deeper, deeper, where she’s so fucking sweet. Where I want to live. Where no man has been.
“Jett…”
I hear the pleading in her voice. My thrusts pick up speed, and she rewards me with a gasp. Her fingers curl around my shoulders. Her thighs do the same to my hips, as if she can hold me against her and keep me here forever.
I sink deeper into Whitney. Not literally, since I’m already as deep into her as I can be. But figuratively, viscerally, emotionally. And I drown. If she’s how I’m going to die, I’ll go gratefully and willingly, ending my time on earth a happy man.
I grip her hip with one hand and grab a fistful of her hair with the other, forcing her to look right into my eyes. “I never stopped loving you.”