Page 51 of Irish Fury
Mags was so fixated on learning his body that when Jonathan said, “Take your shirt off,” she startled.
It wasn’t that she was a shy or reserved woman. She had made herself orgasm not very many days ago from the same position she was in now. Deciding that living dangerously was a whole hell of a lot more satisfying, she lifted the hem and peeled the shirt from her body, tossing it to the floor.
Her long, brown waves landed against her chest, allowing only the barest hint of her nipples to peak through.
“Christ,” he uttered as he reverently swept her hair behind her. He stood with one hand supporting her ass before turningand placing her in the middle of the bed, crawling up her body until it was him straddling her thighs.
Then it was his turn to explore her body. With a single finger, he traced the outline of her breasts, her tiny, dark areolas and nipples puckered, begging for attention.
He smoothed his thumbs over the peaks. “I can’t believe I’m touching you this way.” He bent and let his warm breath wash over the tip. “Can I taste these, or is that too fast?” he growled.
“Not too fast,” Mags heard the unsaid, “Please do,” as she arched her back.
He had both hands cupped at her breasts, and when his mouth closed over one tip, sucking her flesh deep into his mouth, she gasped at the sensation. He was ravenous as his tongue licked and laved both breasts until she was writhing and begging for more when it should have been for less.
“Jonathan,” she panted, running her hands more frantically over his bared skin, stopping when her explorations found the button of his jeans once more.
His ministrations paused when he felt her trace his zipper and everything that it constricted under the metal teeth. “Would it be too fast if you took your pants off? For comfort,” she added.
He nipped the side of her right breast before climbing to his feet and shedding the denim. She tried not to gape at the barely constrained monster tethered only by a pair of Tom Ford briefs.
When he came back to bed, he didn’t immediately resume his position at her breasts. Instead, he kneeled at her feet, his hands caressing her calves, his eyes caressing the rest of her.
“My God, you’re beautiful, lying naked underneath me. Almost naked,” he said, touching her shorts. “Can I take these off?”
“That’s not very slow of you.” She tried for wit, but the breathless quality of her voice was disturbingly blatant.
Mags mentally shrugged. Slow had never been her thing.
“Fine, but tit for tat,” she watched his eyes widen as she snapped the waistband of his briefs.
Jonathan ran one finger between her breasts and stopped, keeping only the slightest pressure at the base of her sternum.
“Are we done going slow?” he asked, a shag of white hair partially covering the left eye on his handsome face.
“I believe you regret hurting me, and if our families have taught me anything, second chances are necessary.” She shrugged, adding, “Bigger the risk, bigger the reward.”
“That’s my girl.” Thumbs already hooked in his underwear, he asked, “Together?”
Mags took a deep breath, feeling her lungs expand and stretch against her skin. She hooked her fingers, too, but her eyes never left his.
It wasn’t just about sex. They were starting something that would either work and soar or crash and burn. Both had consequences; either would change them. Jonathan would change her. He already had.
“Together,” she nodded. And then they were slipping out of the last barrier that separated their bodies.
Mags was by no means a virgin—she’d only had one lover, but that one was a repeat offender—she’d seen penises, personally and on television, but Jonathan was…blessed.
While she was busy ogling the unwrapped present, he was intent upon studying her in return. “No woman is so beautiful as you, Mags.”
She stretched under his perusal, lifting her hips until the inside of her thighs slid up his muscular legs, barely stopping before her center touched his balls.
He brought his hands under her to grasp her ass and close the gap. When her heat met his, they moaned in tandem.
“Surely, no woman is more perfectly made.”
He kissed her deeply then, while sending her body spiraling from sensation. Bent over her like he was, he was able to pump his sex through her wet folds.
It was too much and not enough, but through the intoxication of near orgasm, doubts about their sustainability roared to life.
