Double Exposition (Songs and Sonatas Book 1) by Jerica MacMillan

Author:Jerica MacMillan [MacMillan, Jerica]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Marycliff Press
Published: 2017-11-05T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Gabby

The next morning we sleep in, which feels weird for a Tuesday. But when Jonathan wakes me, it’s with sweet kisses and his hands sliding over my body, his fingers teasing my nipples and questing down to find me slick and ready for him. He strokes me with his fingers—sliding inside, up and over and around my clit, repeating this over and over until I’m panting and desperate. Then he moves over me, rolls on a condom, and teases me for another second or two, grinning at my whine of frustration, before lining up and sinking into me in one smooth slide.

I gasp, arching my hips up to meet his, enjoying the stretch and friction when he grinds his pelvis against mine. One hand brings my leg up, bent at the knee and pushed back toward my chest, opening me more, letting him sink in deeper, so deep. This is one of his favorite things to do, and it’s quickly become one of mine.

Snaking my other leg around his hip, my foot resting on his muscular calf, I hang on as he sets the pace, rising to meet him as much as I can with each thrust. It doesn’t take long before I’m right there again, teetering on the edge of bliss.

“I can feel you clenching. You’re close aren’t you?” His voice is low and rough with sleep and lust.

I bite my lip and nod. He pushes my leg back harder, grinding into me with each powerful stroke, bending his head down to kiss me. With a wordless cry into his open mouth, he brings me to a shuddering orgasm.

His pace increases as I come, and he breaks the kiss, clutching my hand and staring into my eyes as my orgasm fades and his overtakes him. His green eyes glass over, but they never leave mine as I see and feel the pleasure explode through him, his muscles straining as he comes.

Our first time together I didn’t understand why he got off so much on watching me come. But I do now. Knowing that I reduce him to this—twitching and moaning in pleasure—is a heady, powerful feeling. And I can’t get enough of it.

With the house empty, we take our time cleaning up, cuddling for a while before showering and eating a late breakfast. The security team is coming for a meeting at noon.

Despite our lazy morning, nervous energy crackles through the air once we’re both dressed for the day. Jonathan peeks through the curtain for the fifth or sixth time since we got up.

“Any change?” I ask from my place on the couch. I’ve called all my professors for today to let them know I won’t be in class. My orchestra conductor wasn’t happy. According to him, you need to be dead or dying to miss rehearsal. A mob of photographers and reporters camped out and ready to follow me around isn’t an adequate excuse. But Jonathan won’t let me leave before we have a plan in place for dealing with them and I have a bodyguard assigned to me.

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