Page 117 of Rogue
“Let’s see,” he continues, “Strangled to unconsciousness. Hit over the head with a chair. Pushed into a filthy river. You’re good, fireball. And you dealt with Novák. But I’ve got years of experience on you. Yeah, I let you go. Every goddamn time.”
He strips off his clothes as he speaks and his thick erection rises up in greeting.
But I’m flabbergasted by what he’s saying. Oh my God. And here, I’m thinking a month of Hayden’s Hell prepared me for him. When all along, I should have realized no amount of mercenary training could ever be enough when dealing with a seasoned player like Jaxson.
“Every time you rushed off, you know what I was thinking? That the next time we cross paths, I’m going to fuck her good and silly. Make her cry out for me, make me forget. Fuck away the pain. Hell, welcome a little pain with a whole lot of pleasure.”
He places a hand on my shoulder and nudges me to step inside. “Hang onto the stall door and be prepared to beg me to smack that sweet ass of yours while I’m thrusting up inside that beautiful pussy I’ve been missing so much. You ready for me, fireball?”
“God, yes.”
I scoop up the designer soap, wet it beneath a jet, then rub it across my breasts, taking extra time soaping them up.
“If I remember correctly, you like me dirty. Underneath fallen trees. Bent over your knee. Taking you deep, making me crazy for your cock. But how about we start new? Let’s get cleaned up. Me first. Do you want to watch while I lather my breasts, my stomach, rub this small bar of soap between my thighs?”
“Fuck, better than I imagined.” I turn and catch the upward tilt of his lips as well as the lustful gleam in his eyes, as he turns to close the shower stall door behind him. Yep, the sexy charmer I’ve grown to love is alive and well, and wanting me. Yet the naughty girl in me is itching to tease him a bit. Teach him a lesson in how it feels to be wildly aroused, wet, then left hung out to dry.
I slide the soap across my stomach. “Or maybe you want it dirty? Well, you’re in luck because today, I’m such a dirty girl with a dirty little mouth. Any suggestions what to do about it?”
“I’ve got the perfect remedy.”
I work the soap over my sensitive nub, back and forth. Every nerve in my body springs to life. For a moment, I abandon my teasing him, caught up in my need to arch my hips upward and rub my sensitive hood against the soap. He groans deep in his throat.
Music to my ears.
Straightening a finger, I work the bar between my thighs to my folds, soaping up my lips before parting them with my digit.
“Yeah, fuck. Do it. Come for me before I thrust my tongue deep inside and devour every goddamn inch of you.”
Jesus, a sexier man doesn’t exist. Just the thought of him on his knees and burying his face between my thighs has my core clenching tightly around my finger. When God created Jaxson, he made perfection. A man who loves oral sex, going down a woman, working her to a climax; blessed with talented fingers, full gorgeous lips, and a tongue that redefines the worddevilish. I fight off a moan and instead, remove my hand, step back, and allow the jets to do their magic. Then I do a little magic trick of my own.
Oops. The soap accidently slips out of my hands and lands perfectly in front of Jaxson’s toes. I sink to my haunches to retrieve it, and am rewarded with his erection standing at full glorious attention and thickening just inches from my mouth. I angle my head back and roll faux-innocent eyes up at him. “You like me on my knees, huh? With my dirty little mouth a lick away from your beautiful large erection?”
“Hand me the soap,” he commands. “Because I’m going to rub it over your skin while I fuck you standing up. And when I’m done with that, I’m going to spend hours between your thighs eating you out. And then, if you’re still wanting more,maybeI’ll let you take me in your mouth.”
Sweet Mary. I don’t simply reach for the soap, I make a hasty grab for it. But I pause before standing to run my tongue over the smooth wet head of him.
Just a taste.
Just giving him something to think about.
He hisses, and then I’m hauled to my tippy-toes, my toes dragging across the floor as he pulls me into him. With expert movements, he’s got my right thigh anchored to his side and has me precariously balancing myself on my other leg. And oh sweet Mary, his thick erection is now nestled between my folds.
I hold onto him with one hand and take hold of his free hand with the other. “Here’s the soap, baby.”
He grins, and I know I’m in trouble. “Thanks. Guess I’ll get to work holding up my end of the bargain,” he murmurs before producing a condom out of nowhere and tearing the foil open with his teeth.
My eyebrows widened. All the while, he’s had a condom cupped within his palm?
He winks at me. Yes. Of course he did. I squeal, caught off-balance when he suddenly moves. But he keeps my thigh anchored in place with one hand while he shifts and moves to roll the condom across his erection with the other.
“Now let’s see about getting you cleaned up,” he says with a smug grin, then thrusts inside me. Arching his hips, he thrusts again, embedding himself inside me.
He withdraws and sinks back in. Driving home again. And again. The fourth time, I’m ready for him and push my thigh into his side as he plunges into me, deepening his movement.
I inhale, breathing in the clean, lemony smell as he runs the soap over my collarbone and holds true to his promise of fucking me while washing me—without breaking his stride.
Soon, the beautiful friction of our lovemaking grows more and more intense. His erection thickens. I tighten around him. Until I’m moaning with need.
