Fighting for Flight JB Salsbury (room on the broom read aloud .TXT) 📖

hiss shoots from his lips as he pushes past the final barrier of my virginity. My eyes slam shut at the searing pain.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I love you.” Tender brushes of his lips trail from my jaw to my shoulder.

After a minute, I release his hips, my legs no longer able to hold him with their quivering muscles. The burn recedes, leaving behind a delicious fullness.

Past the pain, I focus on Jonah’s face: both dimples, full teeth, and shining eyes. Pure male pride.

He cups my face, running his thumbs along my cheeks. “Feel okay?”

“Perfect.” I rake my hands into his hair and pull him in for a deep, wet kiss.

“My girl.”

His movements start slow, dissolving my discomfort and awakening my hunger. I scrape my nails along his scalp, grasping in desperation. Closer, deeper, harder. More. I don’t know what’s come over me. All I know is that I need Jonah more than oxygen.

“Jonah, I—”

A gasp robs me of my words as he rocks into my body. Ripples of pleasure shoot up my torso and coil in my chest. I grip his backside with two hands, feeling the flex and release of his muscles as he moves between my legs.

Possession pushes below the surface of my skin. An animalistic satisfaction at being marked, permanently changed by the man I love.

“More.” The simple spoken word has him rolling his hips deeper, and thrusting harder.

Yes!

I groan as the tension builds, churning low and ready to burst.

“You’re perfect. So hot, and fuck, so tight,” he growls into my mouth.

I’m hot and writhing, his words and body mastering mine. Every angle winds me tighter, pushing me higher. I buck against him, searching for release.

A shift of his hips in the right spot and sparks fly behind my eyes. I suck in a lungful of air, my release shooting through my body. My nails dig into his biceps and I call out his name against his lips. He continues to rock into me. And just like an expert guitar player hitting the perfect chord, another explosion of pleasure pushes through me. My heels dig into the bed, riding out my climax. Blissful satisfaction washes over me in waves. I labor for breath, floating down and sinking into the bed.

Is it always like this?

My body hums. I blink away the post-orgasm fog. My limbs fall to the side, sated and heavy.

It’s only then that I notice Jonah still moving above me. His colorful arms flex and pulse. His eyes lock on mine, and he bites his bottom lip. I can’t resist the urge to taste it myself and push up to pull at the soft flesh with my teeth. He releases it and I suck it deep into my mouth.

He quickens his pace then growls his release. Heat fills my body where the sting has died to a dull ache. I lick and suck at his lips and tongue until his movement slows. He collapses onto my body, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck. We breathe heavy, chest to chest, hearts pounding against each other, until we calm.

“I’m not ready to give you up,” he says against my skin while moving gently inside me.

“I’m not ready to be given up.”

We kiss, this time absent of the heat from earlier. Only gentle touches and whispers of affection.

“Thank you, Jonah. That was better than I imagined.”

His lips brush mine once more before he rolls off of me. I wince as he pulls free from our connection. He falls to my side and wraps me in his arms.

My head on his chest, he takes a deep breath. “Baby, that was incredible.”

We lie in silence, Alicia Keys singing “How it Feels to Fly” and soothing the aftershocks of our lovemaking. The lyrics send goose bumps racing across my skin. Lying here in Jonah’s arms, having given him the only thing of worth that I have to give, I’ve never felt freer. Tears sting my eyes, and I swipe at one that rolls down my cheek.

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry. Was it too rough? Are you okay?” Jonah’s hands are at my face, wiping at the moisture beneath my eyes.

Propping myself up, I look at him and smile. “Do I look okay?”

“No. I mean, of course, you look amazing. But you’re crying.”

He continues to dry my wayward tears. I stop his hands with mine. “I’m fine. It’s been an emotional day.” My fingers trace the tattoo on his chest. “Was it, um, okay? You know, for you?”

He throws his head back in a quick burst of laughter. “Shit, let’s put aside the fact that I’m in love with you. Let’s also not count the fact that being skin on skin, no barrier between me and your hot, wet, gripping—”

I smack him playfully in the arm, my lips upturned and cheeks cramping from the glowing review he’s giving me.

“Okay, all that aside, the way your body responds to mine, the slightest touch or shift in my position . . . Moans of pleasure coming from those gorgeous lips . . . Baby, that was the hottest . . .” His eyes dart to the side as if he’s having a hard time putting words to his feelings. “What we did tonight was more beautiful than anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“I feel the same. I’m glad I waited for you, Jonah. You deserve to be my first—”

“And your last.”

My jaw drops open before I catch it and slam it shut.

Could he really mean what he just said? I’ve heard men do that, say things they don’t really mean after sex because they’re caught up in the moment. He doesn’t look uncertain. He’s not smiling, his mouth isn’t twitching uncomfortably. His eyes are fixed on mine and his face is soft. I don’t have much experience in this area, but if I had to guess, I’d say he looks like a man in love.

My rational side busts out a checklist. He replaced my door, risked his safety to talk