Page 30 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
It becomes a chorus when I push inside, and I’m the one shuddering now. I fucking love touching him like this. Because I know how it feels, what it does to a man, how it turns you into a babbling, lust-struck maniac, wanting nothing more than pleasure.
And I know what to do with my fingers.
I crook one inside him, hitting his P-spot and making him moan. He grunts, fucking up into my hand as I add more lube and work another finger inside him.
“Told you I’d take care of you,” I rasp out, loving the way he responds to every stroke of my hand on his cock, every thrust of my fingers in his ass.
“Oh yes, you did.”
My cock hangs heavy between my legs, and I know I’m leaking, but I don’t care. I want to be the one to give pleasure. Want to watch. Want to see someone else—see him—lose control. Lose his mind. Come utterly undone.
Judging from the way his features twist, from the anguished curve of his lips, from the blissful agony in his eyes, he’s on that path.
And I am determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from him.
All this pleasure, all this bliss will have to be enough for me. It’ll have to carry me past tonight.13StoneMy bodyguard is a superhero. That’s the only explanation for what he’s doing to my body.
And this is his superpower.
Magic fingers.
As Jackson hits that spot, dark pleasure gathers in me. He’s relentless. He scissors his fingers inside me, and I gasp. I grunt. I growl.
“Jesus, man. What the hell are you doing to me?”
“Fucking you,” he answers, all firm and commanding, kneeling between my legs, looking like a god with a body that should be illegal—so strong and powerful and wicked too.
Wicked with his hand that grips me so tight, that strokes me so good.
And I’m close, so damn close.
But hell, I don’t want to come. Don’t want this to be over. I want to just lie here with him, squirming and writhing till my bones melt and my mind turns blank.
Because that’s what Jackson is doing to me with those magic fingers that stroke and push.
I arch my hips, seeking more. I can’t stop fucking into his hand and fucking down on his fingers, and soon, I don’t even know where the pleasure is coming from.
I’m being fucked both ways.
I’m being fucked every way.
It’s a filthy ruining, and I want it, want it badly. I want to be pulled under.
My muscles quake, my thighs clench, and I am done.
I can’t even make words to signal an orgasm is on its way. But I don’t think Jackson cares. He’s working me over as I groan and grunt and come so damn hard in his hand.
I’m panting as he eases out his fingers, wipes my come off on the cloth, then climbs over me, pinning his big hands on either side of my face.
His lips crash down on mine, his body covering me.
Electricity crackles through my veins from the unexpected crush of his big frame. From the weight of him. His hard-on presses into my stomach, and I push up against it.
I raise my hands to his face, clutch his cheeks, and drag that sexy mouth closer to mine. I lose my mind in his kisses, in his scent, that cedar smell that drives me crazy.
I rock up against him, my shaft hardening again. He breaks the kiss, laughing. “Really, Stone?”
“Shhh. It’s my greatest secret. I can usually come twice in the first fifteen minutes.”
Jackson arches a brow. “Let’s test that theory.”
He pushes down against me, and I slide my hands along his sides, around to his ass, and grab him.
My bodyguard’s ass is sheer muscle—hard and firm.
I jerk him closer, then I kiss him, spearing my tongue in his mouth, nipping his lips.
Slowly, like he’s keenly aware of the sixty pounds or so he has on me—bring it on, J, because two hundred fifty pounds of muscled man will feel so good—he lowers himself closer to me.
An electrical charge zaps my body, and it’s incredible. I pull away from his mouth so I can groan. So I can moan. So I can let him know how good this feels when he’s on me like this.
Because . . . the contact. Dear God, the contact with him is insanely arousing.
“Yes,” I murmur. “Don’t move an inch away from me.”
“How about closer though? You want that?” It comes out as a tease. A taunt.
Like he knows what his body can do to a man.
It can drive a man crazy.
Can make a man hard.
Can make this man want more.
I want everything. I want it all.
He has me writhing and begging, something I’m not afraid to do. “Bring. It. On.”
“You want to feel all of me? You can handle it?” His whispered questions drift into my ear like a filthy invitation.
