By Jami Alden
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What was wrong with her? This was Jake, the man who’d so rudely introduced her to the world of slam bam thank you ma’am. To give him credit he’d proven—twice now—that he could make her come. Really, really hard. But still. It was just an orgasm. The smartest move would be to get up and leave before she fell victim to this weird hormonal anomaly. But her brain had ceded all control to the area between her legs that still throbbed and ached to feel all of Jake buried deep inside her. And to think men got a bad rap for being controlled by their dicks.
Grayish blue, thickly lashed, bright against her summer-tanned skin. Arresting, knowing, seemingly full of sensual awareness that no seventeen-year-old girl could have. He’d wanted nothing more than to push her down on the couch and give her exactly what she was asking for, begging for. But she’d been off limits, untouchable, and he’d fought the impulse with every sinew in his ragingly horny body. He would have succeeded, if she hadn’t pinned him with that look. The same look she’d given him five seconds ago.
Because that was exactly what she wanted too. Liar. But Kit ruthlessly silenced the voice that tried to tell her she wanted more. Instead she grabbed Jake by the tie and pulled him into her bedroom, where they stripped each other with frenzied efficiency, pausing to kiss and lick each new patch of skin as it was revealed. Backing him up against the edge of the mattress she pushed him down, following after him until she landed sprawled naked across his milewide chest. Like a cat in heat she rubbed herself against the lightly furred wall of his chest, hissing as his hands covered her bare breasts, palms rasping against the sensitive points of her nipples.