Love & Rockets by Maggie Wells

Author:Maggie Wells [Wells, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensignton Publishing Corp.
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Oh, God, he was big, and hot, and holy moly, she finally understood what that singer meant about someone’s body being a wonderland. She couldn’t stop touching him. Everywhere.

The second she confirmed his suspicions about her lingerie choices, he kissed her hard and fast and began moving inside of her. Slow at first, but building speed and strength like a hurricane swirling through the warm Gulf waters.

The play of unexpected muscles under taut, smooth skin was nearly sent her sailing, but she wouldn’t let go yet. Couldn’t. Not when his chest hair was rasping against the front of her dress. The sensation of skin hitching on fabric shouldn’t have been so exciting, but it was. All of it was.

She’d never done this before, loosened a few hooks and buttons and gone right to the main event. And damn, if it wasn’t intoxicating to know she could drive this man to the brink without removing a stitch. She even had her shoes on. Too turned on to resist, she let the heel of her trusty black pumps scrape down the leg of his suit pants. A violent shiver raced through him. She squeezed a handful of rounded ass and yanked her panties further aside, feeling the elastic strain and pop as Jake shifted his weight forward and drove into her with unrelenting downward thrusts.

Oh, but payback was delicious.

The change in angle brought the slick length of his cock in contact with her clit with every stroke. The leg of her panties cut into her ass. Time slowed, then sped as she splintered into bits and pieces. Pleasure. Pain. Smooth. Rough. Thrust, retreat. Pant, moan.

His belt buckle embedded itself in her thigh. She’d have to get Connie’s dress dry-cleaned. Better yet, she’d buy it from her so she could have the damn thing framed like a trophy. If a president could do it, so could she. This was America.

“Darla.”

She loved the way he said her name. Even on the most mundane days, his soft slurring of the final vowel made her feel quivery. This day was proving to be extraordinary. And so was the sound of Jake Dalton saying her name as he fucked her like a wild, bucking bronco.

“Oh, yes,” she crooned. “Harder. Oh, yeah. Harder.”

He complied, and she rewarded him by sliding her fingers along the crevice of his ass. The man all but leaped out of his skin. Then he burrowed deeper into her with a guttural growl, deepening his strokes and lowering his mouth to her ear.

“Is this how you like it?”

The clingy knit of her dress gave her no traction. With each short, powerful thrust he inched her across the bed. When they reached the abyss, she hooked her arm under his and gripped his shoulder in a half-hearted attempt to hold him back. But she didn’t want him restrained. She wanted him totally undone.

“Yes, that’s how I like it,” she panted. Abandoning her grip on her panties, she slid her hand over her clit and began to stroke herself in time with him.

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