Joanna Wylde - Jerred's Price

Her clit hardened beneath his fingers, and he could tell that she was getting close to her orgasm by the fluids collecting between her legs. He pushed two fingers up inside her opening, stretching her and prepping her for his cock. There was nothing more wonderful than the moment when a woman swallowed his length whole. Just the thought of pushing his cock inside that hot opening was enough to make him grind his hips against the bed, and for once second he considered simply pushing her jumper off and thrusting into her. She was ready, he could tell from the little noises she made and the way she gushed against his hand. He could bring her over the edge with his cock in seconds.

But he held back, reminding himself that this time was for her. She’d earned a little consideration. So he steeled himself as he kissed lower, using both hands to push her jumpsuit down her shoulders. Her hips lifted to help him, and he slid the clothing down her legs. He followed the fabric to the floor, kneeling between her legs and hooking them over his shoulders.

He leaned forward, inhaling her scent, and then touched the tiny, hard knot of her clit with his tongue experimentally. Her legs clutched him closer and she moaned. To tease her, he pulled back a bit and blew on the stiffened nub. He flicked it once with his tongue, and then flicked it once more. Then he started laving it slowly, stiffening his tongue and swirling it around her clit slowly and deliberately.

Her entire body clutched and stiffened again, and he increased his pace. She was like a wonderful dessert, something to be savored and suckled. She bucked against him, and he had to clamp his arms around her legs to hold her still for his ministrations. She muttered something in a guttural tone of voice before her hips twisted and she exploded around him. He felt her orgasm in her legs and between his lips, her body falling limp.

He raised himself and sat down behind her. Her expression was sated, filled with pleasure and smug in a way that he would normally associate only with a feline.

She rolled her head to one side and looked up at him.

“Damn, that was good,” she said in a low voice.

“Am I forgiven for the other night?” he asked softly.

She laughed a little, and then shook her head.

“Nope,” she said. “Not before I get a couple more like that one. You’re talented, Captain.”

He laughed, and fell down on the bed. He’d be more than happy to give her a few more like that one, providing he got some relief of his own along the way. He was about to rupture.

He lay next to her, unwilling to make the next move. He wanted to jump on her, take her fast and hard. Doing that would wipe out everything he’d accomplished, though. He needed her to understand that he could be a compassionate lover, not just the kind of man who spent himself like a boy. Her pleasure mattered to him; he’d prove that to her, even if it killed him in the process. He closed his eyes, listening to her breath come slowly beside him. Then her hand touched him and sensation curled through his body.

She ran her fingers along his arm, her touch so soft and gentle that he wondered for a moment if he imagined it.

He could feel each little hair standing up, and then her fingers lifted, just grazing the tips of those hairs rather than truly touching his arm. He pushed his arm toward hers hopefully.

She seemed to understand, because she gave a low laugh and then her hand grasped his arm more firmly. He felt the bed shift as she sat up. She pulled his arm up above his head, then grasped his other hand and did the same to it.

“Now it’s your turn to hold your hands still,” she said in a low voice. He shivered, following her instructions willingly. He started to open his eyes, but her fingers grazed across his lashes.

“No peeking,” she said. “I think that this time is for me—you’ve already done your damage here.”

He shook his head in denial, but he did as she asked. If it involved her touching him, that was good enough. He didn’t need to see her so long as he could feel her. He clutched the edge of the mattress with both hands, holding himself breathless as he waited for her to make her next move. It came a moment later when her weight shifted again.

One leg slid over his, and then she straddled him. He could feel the heat of her body cradling his cock, and cursed himself for not taking off his clothes earlier. Then again, that had probably been for the best. If he’d been able to feel her bare skin against his, he would have lost it.

Still, this was torture.

She wiggled on top of him, grinding her pelvis down over his. He pressed back up at her, for the first time realizing how cruel his little game had been. Having her so close, feeling her touch him without the chance of touching her back was maddening.

He wanted to grab those soft, rounded hips and thrust up into her so high she screamed.

Instead, he simply lay there trying not to whimper. Each movement pressed her heat against him. Each twist of her pelvis imitated the dance he wanted to perform so desperately he thought he might explode. Then her fingers pulled open his shirt and he thought he’d died and gone to hell.

For a moment she stilled, and he couldn’t breathe. If she didn’t touch him he would die. If she touched him it might be just as bad. His cock was so hard he thought it might split. Worse yet, he might explode on her again. Fuck, he thought in disgust. He should have jacked off first. At least that way he wouldn’t be like a teener in heat. Then her fingernails touched his chest and he forgot to think altogether.

She trailed them down the length of his chest, moving between his nipples toward his belly. She trailed them across the rippled muscles of his abdomen, and he twitched.

She flattened her fingers across him, and then massaged him lightly, rocking back and forth across his cock at the same time. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find some relief. Just as it became more than he could bear, she lifted her fingers and grew still.

Her weight shifted once more, and he felt her hair brush across his chest. He imagined what she would look like leaning over him. Hair dangling, breasts just above his flesh, nipples hard and ready for him. He gasped at the thought, a sound that turned to a moan as she nipped his right nipple sharply.

“No peeking,” she reminded him. Her tongue darted out to lave the small wound.

He shivered, and let his head fall to one side. The temptation to look at her was too strong. He knew without asking that if she caught him, he’d be sleeping alone that night.

After a moment her hot little tongue lifted. The cool air hit his nipple and it tightened. Something flicked across it—her finger? He moaned again.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered after several long seconds of teasing.

“Tempting,” she said lightly. “But perhaps a bit premature. I haven’t figured out how to fly the ship by myself yet.”

“You’d better save me, then,” he said softly, thrusting his hips up at her. “If I have a stroke you’ll be all alone out here.”

She laughed, and then lifted herself enough to scoot down his body. Her clever fingers worked at the fastening to his pants, and then he felt the cool air hit the length of his erection.

Before he could say anything, she shifted again and sheathed herself suddenly on his length. After all the slow teasing, the sudden shock of her heat was enough to make him cry out. She seemed to enjoy his shock, squeezing him tightly with her internal muscles. Then she stilled, seated on him with her hands braced against his chest.

“So, what now?” she asked.

“What kind of question is that?” he asked back. He twisted beneath her, vainly trying to create some friction between them.