"You said you weren't into chains."
"And you don't see me using any, do you? I just want to make you feel good. And you've got such sensitive little tits I think we ought to see if I can make you come just by playing with them."
"What?" A laugh escaped her, but to her embarrassment it cracked right down the middle. "Of course you can't!"
"Bet I can. They're so responsive."
P.J. snorted. "They're so little they barely exist," she said flatly, giving the tiny offerings under discussion a disgusted look. Being flat on her back sure didn't improve their stature.
"The hell they don't. They're nearly a handful and that's all I need. They're gorgeous, so quit putting them down." He licked his way up the slight slope toward the center of her left breast. "And these aren't little at all, are they?" He blew on her nipples before pinching them between his thumbs and forefingers.
She bit her tongue to keep from mewling like a cat in heat. But God, that felt good! And he was right. She rather liked her nipples-they were the most prominent part of her boobs. Pale pink protuberances that thrust skyward from puffy areolae, they were quite long when cold or excited-and God knew they were excited right now. Not to mention really, really receptive to the way he kept alternating the force of his clasp on them from the lightest pressure to an almost but not quite painful compression.
He seemed to know it, too. "I think all your nerve endings in these babies are right on the surface." Giving the morsels in his fingers a tug, he lightly bit first one tip then the other.
A single quick, hard contraction deep between her legs made her cry out.
"Jesus." Jared clenched his teeth to keep his head from blowing off his shoulders. "You really did get off. Not a real big one, maybe, but an orgasm's an orgasm." Oh, man, he was hanging by a thread here. Moving up her lithe body, he planted a fierce kiss on her lips. "Again," he demanded the instant he came up for air. He was determined to concentrate on her pleasure. He had to in order to keep from burying himself in her receptive body with one savage stroke and driving toward his own satisfaction like a freight train jumping the tracks. It wasn't only that he prided himself on being a thoughtful lover. He never relinquished control. Never.
Well, okay, eventually he did. But not until the last possible moment.
And he wasn't about to let little Priscilla Jayne Morgan be the exception to his rule.
He was hard-pressed to keep that affirmation in the front of his mind where it belonged, however, as he slid his hand up under her dress and finally brushed his fingertips against the lacy panties stretching the thinnest of barriers between him and a little slice of heaven. They came away damp with her arousal and it didn't matter what he did to keep hold of the situation-he could feel his grip slipping another degree.
"Again," he repeated in desperation and insinuated his fingertips beneath the scalloped hip band. The next thing he knew they were sliding between buttery feminine folds.
"Oh!" Her hips arched up off the bed.
He sucked for a breath he hoped would actually penetrate beyond the superior lobes of his lungs. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the feel of her hot flesh beneath his fingers. He feathered the slippery little nugget of her clitoris, then stroked his fingers downward. When he reached her opening, he gently circled the ring of muscle guarding her entrance until her thighs began to clamp down on his hand and restlessly spread apart, close around him and sprawl open. Then he eased his forefinger inside.
"God," he breathed, and it was a benediction rather than a curse. Bowing his head, he rested his forehead against hers. "You feel so good," he whispered. "So hot and wet. So tight."Very tight, now that he'd mentioned it. The way that molten sheath clamped around the single digit he'd slipped in her you'd think nothing larger could possibly fit. He raised his head to stare down at her. "How long has it been for you?"
"Huh?" Her eyes slowly focused. "I don't know, a year? Maybe two."
And he'd float an educated guess here that she hadn't exactly been working the bars on a nightly basis before that. Or that her version of working them had meant singing onstage with a nice, wide protective gulf between her and a club full of interested men. "Sweet," he murmured and kissed her.
She kissed him back with the boundless enthusiasm that made her Peej and his tongue soon developed a synchronized rhythm with the finger he pumped in and out of her. When she began making little squeaky noises and thrusting her hips up off the bed, he flattened his palm against her plump, wet cleft and ground the heel of his hand over her clit.
She went off like a rocket.
Then she went limp, her beautiful rump hitting the spread, her legs sprawling akimbo and her arms flopping heavily to her sides. With a final lingering pass up the creamy furrow of her sex, he slid his hand up to stroke her stomach. "You still breathing?"
A faint sigh was his only response.
"O-kay." Propping his head in his hand, he looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her pretty bottom lip had gone slack and her eyes were closed. Her breasts were bare but her skirt still covered her to midthigh. White lace panties pooled around her right ankle, and he vaguely remembered her thrusting them down to give his hand more room to maneuver.
It occurred to him he hadn't gotten to view what he'd been touching. He was just starting to contemplate inching up her skirt and seeing what sort of damage he could do with his tongue when she crawled up out of her indolent sprawl. Climbing onto her knees, she gave his unsupported shoulder a shove and knocked him onto his back. She swung a leg over his hips and settled astride him, for an instant simply sitting squarely on his dick.
He stared spellbound up at her bare breasts, pleasure firing every atom of his being. Showcased by the red cotton hug-her-ribs smocking and the now drooping top she'd slid her arms from, they were all subtle curves and projectile nipples. Tearing his gaze away, he looked past them into Peej's determined amber eyes.
"You've got too many clothes on," she said and pointed to his shirt. "Take it off."
He unbuttoned his shirt down to where the skirt of her dress billowed over his lap. She looked down the length of her nose at him and daintily grasped two fistfuls of fabric to raise it out of his way. He unfastened the last button and pulled the tails from his waistband. Crunching up, he shrugged it off his shoulders, wrestled it down his arms and shook it free. He lowered himself back on the bed.
Her hands immediately smoothed over his bare pecs and, electrified by her touch, he looked up. P.J. was watching her fingers slide over him.
"You've got a gorgeous chest," she said dreamily without lifting her gaze from her hands, which she used to outline his collarbone before trailing along the bony ridges of his shoulders. "Great shoulders."
Then she scooted down his body to trace her fingers along each muscle of his stomach. "Reallygreat abs." Lying flat between his spread legs, she bent her head and kissed his stomach while her hands unbuckled his belt and dealt with the button on his waistband.
He jerked, his hands reaching for the silky fall of her hair. "P.J."
"It's okay," she whispered and lowered the zipper on his jeans.
No, it wasn't. He had to get control here or things were going to go to hell. Fast. "I'm kind of on edge, baby." And her breath on his fly threatened to shove him right into the abyss.
"Excellent." Her hand disappeared into his pants and his hips shot off the mattress when he felt her fingers clamp around his cock.
"Holy shit! Holy fucking sh-" Air hissed through his clenched teeth. He had to take charge here quick.
But God, it felt so good and he wanted so bad to see her hand on him.
A wish that was granted when she took advantage of his raised hips to yank his Levi's down around his thighs. His dick sprang free to point at the ceiling and she promptly wrapped it once again in her competent little fist.