Page 94 of Own the Eights
“Mr. Marks definitely wants the naughty librarian,” he answered, gripping her ass.
She pressed her finger to her lips. “Quiet! There’s no talking in the library, sir.”
He leaned in and took her earlobe between his teeth. “What are the rules on screaming?”
She sighed as he licked and sucked her soft skin. “Why do you ask?”
“Because all the people trying to read in silence are going to wonder who Jordan Marks is when I make you come so hard that you call out my name.”
She arched into him, rubbing her slick center over his erect cock. “Your dirty talk is better than poetry.”
He flipped her onto her back, then held her slim wrists above her head. “How’s this for poetry? Roses are red. Violets are blue. Hold on, messy bun girl. I’m going to fuck you.”
She ran her tongue across her top lip hungrily. “Somebody needs to notify the poetry society of your erotic literary genius.”
He grinned down at her and positioned himself at her entrance. “I’ll take you moaning my name over winning a poetry award any day.”
He thrust inside her sweet heat, both of them gasping as he filled her completely.
“How do you want it, Georgiana Jensen, my favorite naughty librarian?” he bit out, grinding his pelvis against her sensitive bundle of nerves just the way she liked it.
Her blue-green eyes darkened. “Hard and dirty.”
Holy hell! He loved this woman.
Their lives weren’t always a Kama Sutra sex party. Three months ago, the Battle of the Blogs ended with him declaring his love for Georgie to the world. They’d won the contest that wasn’t really a contest, and the Dannies had been arrested. The con artists had tried to hide from the authorities in a nearby park by pretending they were mimes because that’s the kind of shit-for-brains stuff one does when taking supplements laced with sawdust. But he and Georgie didn’t waste one second worrying about the pill-peddling Barbie-bot frauds.
And saying that things moved quickly after that day was an understatement.
Overnight, he and Georgie had become household names, and the More Than Just a Number blog had been born. This was their baby, and he was ready to give it one hundred and ten percent. Georgie, on the other hand, while completely committed to More Than Just a Number, had also decided to maintain her Own the Eights blog because, well, she hadn’t been an impulsively in love freak and deleted ninety-nine percent of her blog content.
Yeah, he’d done that.
But he needed a clean slate. He needed to wash away the bullshit Deacon had planted in his head over the past decade and become his own man. A man who wasn’t ruled by the trappings of perfection and the hollow promise that looks alone could lead to true fulfillment.
And speaking of fulfillment, with Georgie, he had it in spades or eights or vegan cookie dough. By whatever measure, she was his, and he was completely devoted to her.
Wisps of her hair broke free from her bun as he rocked his body against hers. He gazed into her eyes, hardly able to believe this smart, witty woman loved him. She was the everything he never knew he needed all wrapped up in one hot-for-the-bookshop-owner body.
He’d even given up his rental and moved in with her. It made sense. Yes, they’d only known each other for a couple of weeks when they’d decided to shack up, but that was all the time it took for him to know that her heart was the one he wanted to protect until his last breath.
And it made sense. They weren’t only boyfriend and girlfriend. As co-creators of the More Than Just a Number blog, they were business partners, and thanks to the nice infusion of cash from CityBeat, they were neighbors on another front. They’d leased the ample office space next to Georgie’s bookshop, and now, Marks CrossFit occupied a large portion of that space. And he didn’t leave Deac’s operation alone. Done with Deacon Perry’s questionable business ethics, several of the best trainers from Deacon CrossFit migrated down the road to his new gym.
Life was good, really good.
He slid his hand to her hip and lifted her body, changing the angle of penetration as her hot center gripped his hard length. He drove into her in rhythmic, punctuated strokes, deep and hard. This was a take-no-prisoners sexpedition, and he growled into the crook of her neck, kissing her petal-soft skin.
“Jordan, don’t stop!” she cried, her sultry gasps feeding his ravenous desire to make her body hum with pleasure.
“A ten always finishes what he starts,” he teased, working her relentlessly as the slap of their sweat-slick bodies joined the chorus of her sweet cries and his low heated groans.
He released her wrists, and she clawed at his back then palmed his ass. Her hips meeting his, thrust for each fevered thrust, she was so close, and he knew just what she needed. Pumping his cock, hard and fast, he weaved his hand into her hair, gripped her now even messier messy bun, and tugged. The delicious combination of pulsing pleasure and the exquisite bite of pain was all it took to drive Georgie over the edge.
“Jordan Marks!” she called out as carnal victory surged through his veins.
Yep, if they ever decided to do this in a library, not even the patrons listening to audiobooks could ignore Georgie’s primal cries.
Her nails carved tiny crescents into his ass as she writhed beneath him, meeting her climax in an intense rush of heat, and he couldn’t hold back another second longer. He twisted the strands of her silky hair as their bodies collided in a torrent of raging passion. He met his release, grinding into her and lengthening her pleasure, while he disappeared into a world where only he and Georgiana Jensen existed.
