Page 51 of Only the Devil
“Jake.” This time there’s an edge to his name, a warning. I need him now and I’m not into teasing.
He takes a step back and my body revolts, muscles tensing, until he forces my knees together. With a quick movement, he tugs at my skirt’s side zipper and it falls slack around my waist.
Understanding, I lean back, lifting to help him slide the skirt off. He grips both the skirt and my panties, removing them both in the same swift movement. The skirt falls to my ankles and I set about pushing off his suit jacket and working on his shirt, but he brushes my hands out of the way and proves himself far faster. He sets the button-down on the counter and props my feet up on his muscular midriff. My gaze falls to the toned, corded muscle and my fingertips itch to touch him, to explore every divot, to twist the scattering of dark golden curly strands.
He undoes my boots, letting them drop with a thud to the floor, along with my socks and skirt until I’m completely naked. I rest back on my arms, palms flat against the cool quartz countertop. He’s looking at me like he wants to fuck my brains out, and there’s nothing I want more.
“Hot damn, you are sexy.”
I reach for him, my vision centering on his happy trail and his belt buckle. He spreads my knees, stepping between my legs.
He finds my earlobe, a nip that mirrors the hard press of his fingers against my center. A single finger enters me, stretching, and I swear, I’m so fucking horny and needy I feel myself quiver.
I shift my hips, guiding him, and it’s not long before his fingers are sliding in and out of me and his thumb finds that bundle of nerves that’s going haywire.
“Ah.” Yes, that’s what I’ve needed. Where I’ve needed him.
“That’s it. Lean back.”
I hesitate, knowing what he wants, and that’s nice and all, but I want a hard, fast fuck right now.
“You are so fucking wet,” he says, his gaze on his finger, sliding in and out, and his thumb pressing right where I like to press. Something shifts in his expression as he watches me respond to his touch—his cocky grin falters for just a moment, replaced by something more intense, more real. Like he’s as affected by this as I am, even if he’s better at hiding it.
“Just fuck me. Where’s your condom?”
I reach for him, and he brushes my hand back with a tsk.
He trails kisses down my throat, his beard simultaneously rough and soft, all the way down my chest. He cups both my breasts, pressing his fingers over my nipples and presses his lips between my breasts, then continues his descent.
His lips press on my mound, over the trimmed hair. Humor glints in his eyes because he knows I’m about to freaking detonate.
“Why?” I whine.
“Patience.” He pulls out a barstool and positions it away from the counter, so he has room to comfortably partake. “I’m going to make sure you come.”
The tip of his tongue licks my slit, and he thrusts two fingers in. Then he smiles up at me.
“Besides, I’m so fucking hard, when I finally get to nail you, I’m not sure how long I’ll last.” He centers his focus on his fingers sliding in and out. “Of course, that’ll be the first time. Hard and fast. The second time, we’ll take our time.”
Of course, it would turn out Jake’s a conversationalist. With a groan, I shove his head down.
“Less talk. Show me what you’ve got.”
He chuckles against me and his coarse beard tickles, but then he goes deep, finally putting that tongue to work, and absolutely nothing tickles. As his thick fingers plunge inside me, I revel in the heat of his mouth. It’s not exactly what I wanted, but it feels fucking amazing and he’s finally, finally soothing the ache. He finds that hidden, perfect spot and sucks hard, and my back curls and my thighs squeeze, gripping his head as the orgasm finally breaks through with uncontrollable quivers.
“Oh, Jesus,” I gasp.
“No, Jake,” he corrects, lifting his head but replacing his tongue with his thumb, pressing it firmly against my clit, milking the orgasm.
He rises until he’s over me, dips his head, lowering his lips, and I welcome him, tasting myself. The kiss is slow, the heat of the moment simmering between us. But my core tightens, insistent that the first orgasm was more of an appetizer.
Finally, he fumbles with his pants, a sure sign he’s on the same page. His belt buckle clangs against the countertop and I shift to assist, but once again, he brushes away my advances, pulling out a slim wallet to retrieve a condom wrapper that he slips between his teeth. His pants fall to the floor, and my muscles tense at the sight of his extremely erect, thick cock. He’s big, but not so huge I think he’ll hurt. No, if anything, he’s got the goldilocks of dicks. Just the right size.
I snatch the condom wrapper from his mouth and rip the foil between my teeth. I reach for him, smearing the pre-cum over his tip, the movement earning a groan. But he’s impatient too and takes the condom back from me, rolling it on with practiced ease. Then he grips my thighs, pulling me to the edge of the counter. The bar stool tumbles backwards, crashing.
He drags his tip through my folds, slipping it in and out. My breath catches, watching. His eyelids flutter as he pushes forward, stretching me. I tilt my head back. The counter’s hard on my ass, and I want to rest on my elbows, but the granite’s too hard for that.
He hauls me upright, and the movement sends him deeper inside me, stretching.
