Page 33 of The Smokejumper's Lady
It takes everything in me to hold still, my hips aching to thrust up into her, but I settle for the sight of those perfect lips wrapped around me. She might not have done this before, but she somehow knows exactly what she’s doing. Pleasure builds quickly, and soon I thread my fingers through her dark hair, gently pulling her off of me.
She looks up at me, confused. “Was that not okay?”
I chuckle. “Baby, that was so good. But I don’t wanna come in your mouth this time.”
She flushes prettily, and eagerly climbs up my body, careful to be gentle with my various injuries as she straddles me. I slide my hands under her dress only to discover she’s not wearing anything underneath. My chest clams up as an overwhelming lust hits me in the guts. I tug her down harder against me, slipping a finger inside her. Her breath shudders as I let out an appreciative groan.
She’s so wet…so hot…so damn ready for me.
Her hips rock against mine, slow and deliberate, making my whole body light up like I’m back in the fire again.
“Clea,” I whisper, “you drive me crazy.”
She grins against my mouth. “That’s the idea.”
She sinks down slowly, taking me inch by inch, eyes locked on mine, mouth parted in a moan so quiet and filthy I nearly lose it right there. My hands fist the sheets as I try to hold still, to not buck up into her too hard.
“Fuck,” I groan. “You feel like heaven.”
She rolls her hips, her rhythm slow and torturous. My hands grip her thighs, bruising her with how hard I’m holding on. Every stroke, every breath, every flicker of her lashes has me on the verge of losing control.
I wrap one arm around her lower back and pull her flush against my chest. Our lips meet again, tongues sliding together, breath mingling.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door.
We both freeze.
“Everything okay in there?” a voice chirps. The nurse’s voice. Too damn cheerful.
Clea claps a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh.
I stare at the door, then back at her. “Don’t you dare move.” I thrust up into her for emphasis.
“I’m not,” she whispers, breathless, gasping and grinding against me. “I’m staying right here.”
“Mr. Lewis?” the nurse calls again. “You need anything?”
“All good,” I call out, my voice strained. “Just…getting some much-needed cardio.”
There’s a long pause. Then a little chuckle. “Alright then. Buzz if you need a towel.”
Once the sound of footsteps fades away, Clea collapses onto my chest in a fit of laughter. I join her, wrapping both arms around her trembling body.
After our laughter dies down, she props herself up with a wicked grin. Her hair’s wild, her cheeks flushed, and she’s still wrapped around me like we’re fused together. If anything, our little interruption has only made her wetter, and I haven’t softened in the least.
“You were saying something about cardio?” she murmurs, her hips giving the smallest, slowest roll that makes my entire body tense.
“I swear to God,” I growl, tightening my grip on her waist, “you’re gonna make me lose my mind.”
“That’s the goal, isn’t it?” She smirks and plants her hands on my chest, starting to move again, slow at first, teasing, then deeper, faster, her body rolling in perfect rhythm with mine.
The sheet slips lower on my hips, barely covering us now. If anyone walks in, there’s no mistaking what we’re doing.
And I couldn’t care less.
“Look at you,” I rasp, watching her ride me like she owns me, like she knows she can take anything she wants from me and I’ll gladly give it. “You’re so fucking pretty like this. All mine.”
“All yours,” she echoes, eyes half-lidded as her hands trail up to her own chest, fingers tugging at the neckline of her dress until one breast spills free. She cups it, just to torment me. I groan and sit up slightly, dragging my tongue across her nipple until she gasps.
