Down & Dirty: Crow (Dirty Angels MC Book 10) by Jeanne St. James

Author:Jeanne St. James [St. James, Jeanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jeanne St. James
Published: 2019-03-08T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

The tight heat that surrounded him pushed all the anger aside. He should’ve kept his cool, but he couldn’t. Not when it pissed him the fuck off that her self-esteem was in the shitter.

He understood why. But he hated it.

It was one more thing those motherfuckers stole from her. He was going to do everything in his power to make sure it returned.

But right now, the last thing he wanted to think about were those asshole nomads. Not when he was deep inside Jasmine.

He was her first, so he needed to make sure she enjoyed the journey he was about to take her on. This wasn’t about him. This wasn’t about him getting off. Fuck no. This was all about her.

Because if he could get her through this without stopping him, he was going to prove to her how special it could be.

Yeah, sometimes sex sucked with the wrong person. Or if someone was a selfish fuck. But that wasn’t him.

He was the perfect person.

For Jazz.

She was the right person.

For him.

So even though he got angry when she worried about disappointing him, the truth was, he was more worried about disappointing her.

He couldn’t let her down.

He was moving in and out of her slowly but completely, her mouth near his ear. His mouth near her ear. He could hear her breathing change, her little gasps and shuddered breath with each unhurried, deep thrust.

This was no “slam it home” fuck until he busted a nut. This was a distinct dance he was teaching her. Or an intimate song she was learning the lyrics to.

The surprise in her voice when she said his name made him smile and whisper, “That’s it, Kachina, say my name. Tell me, show me how good that feels. You feel so fuckin’ good to me.”

“Crow.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m right here.” He had his arm curled beneath her shoulders, holding her close as he let his hips move in a rhythm similar to the song she sang the other day on stage. Unrushed and with a whole lot of meaning behind it.

“You always remember your first, baby. Always,” he murmured low into her ear. “Want you to remember how perfect this is.”

“Yes,” she answered on a hitched breath.

“Like what I’m doin’ to you?”

“Yes.”

“Love what I’m doin’ with you?”

“Yes.”

“Want more?”

“Yessss.”

“Feel you squeezin’ me tight, Kachina. Feel you ripplin’ ‘round me. You can’t imagine how good that feels.”

She whimpered and tilted her hips, letting them rise and fall with each painstakingly slow thrust.

“Want you to remember this moment, baby. Just me an’ you, makin’ that music you love so much.”

Her arms tightened around his waist, her nails digging into his skin. But he didn’t care. She could shred him if she needed to. He wasn’t going to stop until all the thoughts of her past were swept away and all the possibilities of her future took their place.

He buried his face in her slender neck, licking along her pounding pulse, sucking her delicate skin, the moans and groans that moved up her throat vibrating against his cheek.

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