Summer of Love Marie Ferrarella (easy books to read in english TXT) 📖

The pointed hesitation before she said that last word made his flesh tighten in anticipation. A silent promise to give her exactly what she wanted: a hard, fast bang that was, oh, so good.

Just like last time.

But this time he wanted to draw out his pleasure. And hers.

So, keeping his fingers buried in her hair, he drew her forward again, watching as she slowly opened her mouth.

Yes!

He edged closer, dying to feel her on him, then pulled away at the last second. He repeated the parry and feint several times with a slow undulation of hips that was a blending of obscene torture—emphasis on the torture. At least for him.

She clenched the backs of his thighs, trying to tug him closer, while he remained just out of reach. “Clint. Please …”

“What do you want, Jess?”

“Right now? I want you.”

That was all it took. He pushed her backwards on the bed, knocking the frame off the end table in the process, and shoved her full skirt up around her hips. Black satin panties met his hungry eyes. He jerked them down and then kicked his way out of the rest of his clothes, cursing when one foot got hung up in the waistband of his briefs. Once free, he tossed a condom packet onto the bed and lay down, hauling her on top of him, until she was straddling him, her skirt pooling around her hips.

“You wanted to be in control, Jess? You’ve got it.”

Her eyes trailed from the straining flesh outlined beneath the fabric of her skirt up his bare chest, until her eyes met his. “In that case, do you want me clothed? Or unclothed?”

Unclothed. His mind screamed the word, mouth going dry. He had to force himself to say, “Your game. Your rules.”

She gave him a slow smile. “Mmm. I like the idea of making my own rules.” Taking her skirt in hand, she pulled the black silk up his erection in a long, slow move that made him rethink his assessment. Then she let it slip back down the way it had come.

Okay, clothed was pretty hot, too. Especially when she continued to hold his gaze, and he knew she could spot every muscle twitch in his cheek, discern every time he had to hold himself in check. Like now, when myriad sensations began to gather in his chest. In his gut …

“Jess …” It was meant to be a warning, but her name came out as a low hum of air.

One of her hands crawled beneath her skirt and found him. And the tactile awareness of being able to feel what she was doing but not see it made the act seem secretive and forbidden. An exotic ritual that defied time and space.

She slid forward and shifted her hips up and over his ready flesh. He braced himself, but she didn’t come down on him in a rush, as he’d expected. Instead, she brushed him across her skin, back and forth, her eyes closing, lips parting. He swallowed hard when he realized what she was doing—using him on her body, giving herself pleasure, rocking her hips in time with her hand.

Holy hell. This was as hot as her mouth had been.

Worse.

Because then she’d only been pleasuring him. Now she was bringing both of them to new heights of throbbing awareness. Every cell in his body wanted to thrust home and end the torment. He could just slide up and inside her in one fast move, and she would probably let him … probably welcome him. But the shifting expressions on her face were too entrancing to do anything but lie there and take whatever she wanted to dish out.

“God, Jess. You’re killing me here.”

“What do you want?” She turned his earlier words around and pushed them back at him.

Only he knew exactly what he wanted. “I want you to make yourself come.”

Her fingers tightened, and her movements became quicker, bolder, her breasts straining beneath her shirt as she brushed herself against him—or brushed him against herself—he didn’t know which it was and didn’t care. He was dying to cup her, to scrape his thumb across those hard nipples now visible even through her blouse and bra, but he wanted this round to be all hers.

All around him, he felt her slick heat. Lust spiraled through him, growing stronger with each stroke, even as her movements became more purposeful. Reaching sideways, Clint found his wallet and the condom just inside it. He wrapped his fingers around the plastic wrapper, gripping it tight, hoping he’d still have the sanity to use it when the time came.

Jessi’s breathing quickened, her teeth coming down on her lip as her body continued to feign the motions of sex. Good sex. The kind of sex that didn’t come along every day, with every woman.

No, there was only one woman he’d ever shared this kind of connection with.

Her body stiffened suddenly, pressing hard against him. Then she went off with a cry, her body pulsing against the tight need of his erection. Tearing into the packet, he reached beneath her skirt and sheathed himself in a rush before plunging into her and losing himself in the continued contractions of her orgasm.

Using her hips, he pulled her down onto himself as hard as he could, already too far gone to try to last any longer. Instead, he pressed upwards in greedy thrusting motions as he allowed himself to plummet mindlessly over the cliff of his own release, falling, falling, until there was nowhere else to go.

Nothing registered for several seconds—or it might have been minutes. Hours, even.

When he could finally breathe again, finally think, he gathered her to his chest, his fingers sliding up through the damp strands of her hair and holding her close.

“Remind me not to put you in charge ever again.”

“So you are complaining.” She snuggled closer.

“Never.”

He kissed her brow, her taste salty with perspiration, and allowed his