Page 35 of The Decadent Gift (The Gift 3)
My vision blurred.
I was on the edge already.
My panties were damp.
My skin sizzled.
This stranger knew how to wind me up.
“I want that,” I said, ready to beg for it.
He pressed a kiss to my neck as he cupped me again under the bar. “I bet you’d love spreading your legs for me. Showing me how wet you are. Letting me taste your sweetness.”
This was torture. Exquisite torture. I was dying for him. “I bet you’d love devouring me. I bet you want to fuck me with your tongue,” I said, giving as good as he gave.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“Here are your drinks.”
I snapped out of the moment when the bartender brought our martinis.
I looked at Jake, whose eyes blazed black with desire. I had no interest in drinking. I wanted to be drunk on him. He lifted a glass, knocked some back, tossed some bills on the bar, and said, “Come with me. I need to go down on you so fucking bad right now.”
* * *
In the elevator, he pushed me into a corner, his hands roaming over my chest, squeezing my breasts. “Do you have any idea how much I want to bury my face between your legs?”
“I’m getting an inkling,” I said playfully.
Jake was voracious in the bedroom, but he particularly seemed to love giving oral.
I couldn’t argue with that.
I’d dreamed about great oral sex.
I’d fantasized about it.
But I’d never had a man who ate me the way he did.
With absolute passion.
He’d gone down on me last night like I was dessert.
Like I was his decadent dessert, and he’d been craving me all day, all week, all year.
He kissed me like that now too. Like a man unhinged. He practically shook with lust. I swore I could smell it on him. His desire. His fervor.
It was utterly addictive.
When we got off the elevator, I didn’t ask when he’d booked the room.
I didn’t care.
All I cared about was getting naked for him.
Inside the room, he practically tore off my clothes. We were frenzied, fevered, stripping as we walked, leaving clothes strewn along the carpet. I yanked at his shirt, needing to see his chest, to drag my nails along the grooves of his abs.
He tugged at my jeans, unzipping them as we rushed to enact the scene we’d already mapped out.
When we reached the bathroom, I kicked off my heels, and in seconds flat, he’d pulled my jeans to my ankles, helping me step out of them.
He grunted, as if consumed with getting me naked.
I wanted to be consumed by him.
By his need.
By his intensity.
By his utter carnality.
When I was down to only panties, he tugged them off so quickly they still dangled on my right leg, and he didn’t care. He lifted me onto the sink, spread my legs, and kissed my pussy.
I saw stars.
I cried out from that first touch, that first lick.
He was on fire.
I stared down at him, his dark hair in my hands, his mouth on my wetness, his palms on my thighs.
He kissed and sucked and groaned.
Jake Hamilton might be pretending to be a stranger. But I knew what he was. It was so crystal clear.
Jake was an animal.
And I loved his hunger.
I adored his appetite.
I craved his ravenous need for me.
His hands curled around my legs as my undies finally slipped off. Naked, I scooted back on the vanity, my spine against the mirror, my fingers roped in his hair. He didn’t break contact with my pussy. His miraculous tongue was on a mission to please me, taunt me, fuck me.
My God, that was what he did with his tongue.
He fucked.
I was in dirty heaven. As I stared at him, watching him, sparks racing over my skin, lust coiling in my body, I saw myself.
I hadn’t noticed the other mirror in the bathroom at first. But there it was—across from the sink, reflecting me back to me.
Or, I should say, us.
What I saw made the temperature in me shoot up ten thousand degrees. A wanton woman, hair in a tumble, legs spread wide. A commanding man, bent down, face buried between her thighs. Pleasure radiated across my skin, evident in my face.
I’d rarely watched myself before.
I’d often watched others, and then only the start of their trysts.
But now I was watching two people pretending to be strangers. Two people utterly lost in the moment. Two people wanting.
Wanting so badly what the other had to give.
He wanted to give me the highest high.
And I wanted to take it.
Oh God, did I ever want to take it. My hands curled around his skull, and I tried to watch as he sucked harder on my clit, as his tongue stroked inside me, as his strong hands gripped my ass mercilessly.
But as the pleasure swirled in me, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I couldn’t focus.
I could only feel.
