Jeanie London - Over the Edge

She almost wished he would say something to drown out the sounds of their excited breaths. But he only stood before her, legs braced apart, tolerantly allowing her to indulge her curiosity, which made her wonder what he would want in return for his patience.

Brushing her fingers down his thighs, she circled around to the front of him, lightly grazing the underside of his scrotum, then stroking the hard length of an erection that was no less impressive than the rest of him.

A huge shiver made him sway before her and his erection jumped in her hand, but he demonstrated an imposing willpower because he still didn’t say a word or try to touch her.

The moment stretched with promise, a breathless moment where anything might be possible, where thoughts of sex and surrender and satisfaction all jumbled together in an almost visceral way.

Her heartbeat fluttered wildly again at the thought of him wedging that hard body between her thighs, at this magnificent length pressing deep inside her, filling emptiness with heat.

Her nipples beaded and her sex grew creamy wet. She wanted to lean forward and press herself against all this hot male bounty, feel her curves mesh with his, feel that erection brand the moist skin between her thighs.

She wanted to look into his face, to see if he was similarly affected, but she resisted, unwilling to let him glimpse the raw need she wasn’t quite sure she successfully hid.

Sweeping the mass of wet hair behind her shoulder, she leaned forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to the pulse beating low in his throat instead.

The contact of her mouth against his skin was the fuse that detonated his restraint. All of a sudden he seemed to explode. His strong arms lashed around her like whipcords. He scooped her beneath him with a violence of motion that took her off guard.

By the time she realized what was happening, she was lying on her back with his knee across her thighs, his heavy leg anchoring her to the mattress.

He’d done it again—totally taken her by surprise with that scoop-her-up-when-she-least-expected-it thing. A function of their disparate sizes, she supposed. A unique sensation and one she found stimulating. There was something so unfamiliar, so tantalizing about his power to assume control.

He brushed his palm across her nipples, a slow, very sensual motion, as if he wanted to draw out the moment, to savor every second of the way they speared toward his touch.

Then Mallory got her wish. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she could hear the rumble start deep inside, a purring that nearly drowned out the steady thud of his heart. She couldn’t resist tipping her head back to look into his face, see if his expression mirrored that rumbling sound of contentment.

And the look on Jake Trinity’s face, the reckless hunger, the yearning, just might have gone a long way toward satisfying her need for vengeance—if she hadn’t been feeling a similar reckless hunger and yearning for him.

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