The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

massaged her scalp, pressing her tighter to him. Each firm twist or pull demanded she stop teasing and give him more.

Which she obeyed.

Because that desperation, it hadn’t dissipated no matter how hard she’d tried to shove it out of her mind. It goaded her, and inflamed the need to mark him, force him to feel her—remember her. Here, in this moment, she wanted to possess him...be possessed in return.

Abandoning the stiff tip, she slid her mouth over to the neglected one. She worried it, drawing it between her lips and flicking her tongue over it, hauling one groan after another from him. Pleasure pounded within her like a bass drum, strong, resounding, reaching all parts of her. Especially her achy, wet sex. She clenched her thighs around the empty throbbing, but experience assured her this wouldn’t alleviate it. Nothing could do that but his cock buried inside her, filling her. Completing her.

She trailed her lips down his chest, between the ripple of his abs, pausing to trace each ridge of muscle. Slowly, she sank to her knees, hands falling to the thin belt looped through his suit pants. With suddenly uncoordinated fingers, she released it, jerking open the tab of his pants, too.

“Sydney.” Cole cupped her shoulders, smoothing his hands up her neck to her face, tipping it up to meet his bright amber gaze.

“Are you going to stop me?” She didn’t look away as she continued lowering his zipper and tugging his pants down until they hung loose on his slim hips. When his only response was to clench his jaw, his lips flattening into a hard, carnal line, she dipped her head, nuzzling first one line then the other of the vee that disappeared into his black boxer briefs. “Are you going to let me take you, Cole? Or are you going to be too much of a gentleman to fuck my mouth?” she whispered, yanking on the front of his underwear until the swollen tip of his erection popped free.

Humming low in her throat, she brushed a caress over the small slit at the top. A barely there kiss. His hands shifted from her cheeks to her hair, his grip tighter, rougher than earlier.

That was all the answer she needed.

Her lips parted over the head, taking him inside. Heat bloomed in her belly, sending tendrils to all points north and south. She’d had him in her sex, but this... This almost rivaled that in intimacy. Though she knelt before him in a submissive position, she’d never felt more powerful. Especially when his fingertips dug into her scalp and his hips jerked. Especially when his breath hissed out. She, curling her tongue around him, sucking and licking, had him at her mercy. And as often as she’d been swept along by his fierce passion, feeling like a leaf carried away on furious rapids, it was absolutely heady.

Hooking her fingers into the band of his boxers, she yanked, baring all of him. And she took swift, full advantage. He was heated steel in her hand, and as she fisted the thick bottom half of his dick, she couldn’t help but trace the light blue veins that traveled the long, wide column. Up, up, up to the tip again, where she swallowed him down, taking as much of him as she could. And what she couldn’t, she pumped in a steady, tight rhythm.

“Goddamn, baby girl,” he said, voice low. Pained. But she was achingly familiar with that agonized quality. It mirrored the one that he ripped out of her when he feasted on her. Now it was her turn...and his. “Your mouth. So sweet. Fuck, I can’t even look at you sucking on my cock like you’ve never had better.” Then he belied that statement by tracing a finger along her stretched lips. “Beautiful. So damn beautiful,” he grated, returning his hand to her head. His hold tautened, firmed. “Give it to me then. Take me like you mean it. Like you want it.”

His words unlocked something deep inside her. Freed her. Raising higher onto her knees, the last of her inhibitions disintegrated. She did just as he’d bid. Took him as she’d always fantasized. She left no part of him undiscovered—not the underside of the sensitive flared tip, not the pulsing, hot stalk, not the wide base or even the heavy sac of his testicles. And when she sucked him in again, not stopping until he nudged the narrow channel of her throat, she exulted in his snarl of pleasure. She repeated it, allowing him to breach her, claiming another of those dark rumbles as her own.

“Enough,” he barked, holding her head still and dragging free of her mouth.

Before she could protest, he grabbed her arms, yanking her to her feet. Then steadying her with a hand to the back of her neck and his hungry mouth on hers when she swayed. She wrapped her legs around him as he lifted her and carried her to the couch. Once more, she found herself off-kilter when he abruptly broke off their kiss and jerked down her skirt and panties. Their breath—hers soft and his harsh—broke on the air as he removed his wallet from his pants before pushing them down and off. In seconds, he liberated a condom from the billfold, and a “We don’t need that,” leaped to her tongue.

But at the last second, she caged it. Just as she’d done the other times they’d had sex in these last three weeks. If they were a normal man and wife, they wouldn’t need the protection. But they weren’t normal. She was pregnant with another man’s baby, and he was still in love with his dead wife—his true wife. So no, she didn’t ask him to come inside her bare. Even if the condom left her feeling as if she would never be good enough for him. She tried to uproot the seed of resentment it sowed.

Instead, she focused on his big hands as he sheathed himself. Allowed the passion