Want by Kayti McGee

Author:Kayti McGee [McGee, Kayti]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paige Press LLC
Published: 2018-10-28T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Jake

I had this whole plan for her first time.

There would be music playing and rose petals everywhere, leading up from the front door to the bed. Lit candles and champagne and generally all the soap opera shit she could imagine. No romance book could have topped my elaborate setup.

But the setup is destined to remain in my head, because it turns out layering an orgasm into your recording session is pretty intense foreplay.

She climbs over to the driver’s seat when I pull into the driveway and straddles me. Fuck you, Nick, this is how cool guys handle Aston Martins. She grinds her core into mine, her back arching like when she sang out her pleasure and I slide my hands down over her ass and then up the back of her skirt to where my fingers can grab her hard. I can feel how wet she is even through my pants.

Forget flowers and songs, we could fuck right here in the car. Her hands are tearing at my clothes when I finally regain control.

“Inside,” I gasp out, barely. If for no other reason than needing a condom. Once we step inside, I have her up off the ground, her legs wrapped around me, punching in the security code over her shoulder as I nibble on her neck.

Scratch that. This isn’t a time for gentility. I suck until the blood rises to the surface of her pale skin, a reminder she’ll carry all week.

So what if I toss the soap opera, toss the romance? Multi-orgasmic can’t-get-enough sex will probably be a decent substitute. After all, roses and bubbles are thoughtful and caring, but they don’t make you feel like a tongue up your cunt does, right?

I’ll leave the theatrics to her rich fake boyfriend and keep the real good sex memories for myself.

Once we finally make it into her room, her scent all over and around me, though, I throw her down on the bed like any good alpha would. We lie on our sides, my tongue lost in her mouth as she practices all of her best kissing techniques on me, occasionally interrupting to congratulate herself or ask questions. I love how free she is. Once I thought she was different than any Californian girl I’d ever met, now I think she’s just a one-of-a-kind in general.

I trace my fingers along the dimples on her lower back, a recent obsession of mine. I like touching her better than any guitar I’ve ever had.

She rolls onto her back and I move on top of her. She wraps her legs around my ribs and I push against her, rocking back and forth, showing her the rhythm I’m going to use. The energy is shifting and I can feel that it’s going to happen.

If she’s ready, I’m willing.

That’s a perfect opportunity for my old stick-in-the-mud inner voice to come in and remind me about the things I think of in the middle of the night and pretend don’t exist during the day.

Like how I would never tell her this, but I really am worried.

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