Harlequin Desire January 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Maisey Yates (sad books to read .txt) 📖

He dropped off the bed and she found herself being dragged to the edge of the mattress. Her thighs draped over his shoulders, the heart of her completely open to him.

“Jackson,” she said, her voice trembling.

She might be a virgin, but she wasn’t innocent. In that she fully knew all the things men and women did to each other. Her sisters had never been particularly shy about their sex lives, or their desires. And beyond that, she hadn’t kept herself sheltered in terms of what she watched or read.

But having a man right there, looking at her, with no way to hide herself, that was a different proposition altogether than simply knowing. And when his mouth touched her, she jumped back, only to find herself pinned firmly against his face, his strong arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her there.

She wiggled as he lapped at her, as he tasted her like she was a decadent dessert.

“Jackson,” she said, a feeling like flying building in her stomach, making her certain that she was no longer being held to the bed, but somewhere among the stars.

She couldn’t breathe.

She didn’t want to. She just wanted this. Forever.

Him. His hands. His strength. His mouth.

The pleasure she felt wove around all those things and created the magic tapestry that wrapped itself around her, cocooning her, making her feel safe even as she was brought to the edge of an intensity like she had never known before.

She rocked her hips in time with the motion, and when he pushed two fingers inside of her again, she broke apart. Her internal muscles squeezing around his fingers as he worked them in and out of her body. As he continued to tease her with the flat of his tongue.

She was left desperate and panting, begging for more.

“There’s more,” he said, his voice rough. “Don’t worry.”

He stood, and she watched transfixed as he undid his jeans, lowering the zipper slowly, the strong column of his arousal coming into view.

And he was… Well, much larger than she had imagined. Not that she had a great frame of reference. Or a very good idea of scale. But he was as beautiful as he was intimidating. And he was a lot of both.

Everything about his body was glorious. Strong and well defined and damn near miraculous.

And she didn’t have time to cling to her worry, because then he was positioning himself at the edge of the bed again, wrapping his arms around her thighs, this time lifting her hips up off the mattress as he positioned himself at the entrance of her body, and thrust home.

The pain nearly blinded her.

She cried out, hand scrabbling for purchase, but she couldn’t reach any part of him. And she wanted to hold on to him, wanted to dig her nails into his skin to keep herself from crawling out of her own.

His eyes widened, and for the first time, he looked truly at sea.

He adjusted their positions, bringing her legs around so that her feet were pointed toward the end of the bed, bringing himself onto the mattress the right way, still inside of her, but over her now, and she gripped his shoulders, squeezing her eyes shut tight.

“Cricket,” he growled.

“Don’t stop,” she begged. “It’s already done.”

“Cricket…”

“Just please don’t stop.” And then, she opened her eyes, grabbed his face and kissed him.

And that seemed to work.

She could feel his control begin to unravel as he started to move slowly at first, gently even, until the pain began to recede. Until it was replaced with a full, complicated pleasure that made her want to cry as well as scream with desire.

She began to move her hips in time with his, as they found a rhythm that pleased them both. As they found each other.

And then, he took control, his movements no longer measured, his skin slapping against hers. The primal edge to their joining so much more than she had ever imagined it could be. So much better.

Desire built inside of her until she was trembling again, like she had done outside, like she had done after their kiss. He reached between their bodies, moved his fingers along the sides of where they joined, then back upward, pinching her gently as he thrust in, and light—bright and brilliant—flashed behind her eyes, pleasure breaking over her like a wave.

It was unlike any reality she’d ever known. Deep and unending as she pulsed around him. And he thrust inside of her, once, twice more, and on a growl gave himself up to his own pleasure.

She felt rocked. Stunned. The aftershocks of everything that had just happened continuing to move through her, little tremors of need that caused her to cling to him with each passing ripple.

“Well,” he said. “You should’ve told me.”

“Oh, about being a virgin?”

“Hell yes,” he said.

“I figured that was pretty evident.”

“Not evident enough, Cricket,” he said.

“Well. It wasn’t really any of your business.”

“It was exactly my business.”

“I didn’t want it to be. I just wanted it for me. Please don’t ruin it by lecturing me or scolding me or yelling at me, because I just don’t care about your opinion, okay? It was good.” She let herself fall backward onto the bed, her head resting against the pillow. “It was good, and that’s all I care about.”

“Cricket… I shouldn’t stay.”

“Why?” She scrambled into a seated position, leaving herself completely uncovered. She didn’t know why she was so at ease being naked in front of him. It felt right though. Natural. In a way that being clothed in many other situations never had. She felt… Well, she felt essentially Cricket. Like the baseline nature of who she was was completely and totally reinforced by this. Like the essence that made her her, that had always felt wrong and out of place, suddenly fit. In this house, in this bed. With this man. And, she didn’t see any point in feeling regretful or shy. In apologizing to him for the fact that