Page 106 of Jesse's Girl
“Oh my God,” I say, pushing up from the table on limp arms.
He straightens, withdrawing from inside me with a soft grunt.
“I never…” I start, but trail off, apparently unable to formulate coherent speech. I shake my head and stand carefully on liquid legs, pulsing sensation still screaming from between my thighs. In a daze, I turn around. “I’ve never…”
He pulls up his shorts, smiling as he tucks his still-hard cock behind the waistband.
“C’mere,” he says, reaching a hand to my face. With his other hand, he brushes the sweaty hair away from my forehead before drawing me into a deep, slow kiss. He hums a satisfied sound against my lips.
I slide my hands over his muscular ass and squeeze, sending silent thanks to his glutes for their valiant service.
When we break the kiss, I exhale, slipping my hands between us. He presses his forehead against mine, the rise and fall of his chest slowing under my palms. We’re sticky with sunscreen, sweat, and sex. It’s dirty—and perfect.
“I’ve never… come like that before,” I manage to whisper.
“What, from being fucked?” He tucks my hair behind my ear, the gesture so gentle I feel like purring.
I swallow, letting my gaze slip away from his. “I usually… um…”
Ugh, why am I self-conscious? He’s literally just been inside me.
He reaches down and, as he drags a finger gently across my sensitive clit, his voice rumbles low beside my ear. “You usually need that?”
“Yeah.” I inhale sharply, gripping his forearm as he wipes up the cum slipping down my inner thigh and rubs it into my clit, then pushes it back inside me.
“That goes back where it belongs,” he rasps.
My jaw drops.
Good fucking Lord. I could go again. Right now.
He kisses my cheek, then pulls back with a small smile.
I look down at the floor, pleasure still thrumming through my core.
“Hey,” he says as he lifts my face, his expression serious. “Chin up, Buttercup.” He barely gets the words out before a grin takes over.
I swat his hand away and jab a finger into his chest. “That nickname is not happening. You’re not calling me that.”
He shrugs, still beaming down at me. “We’ll see.”
“Jesse!” The nerve of this man.
He snorts out a suppressed laugh, then shakes his head. “Oh, come on, it’s too perfect.”
I glare at him.
“Plus, it pisses you off so beautifully.” He squints. “Honestly, that pinched nose and angry little pout,”—he pulls my lower lip down with his thumb—“just makes me want to fuck that look right off your face.” He leans in close, trying to kiss me.
I shove his chest. “Shut the fuck up and get in the shower.” I try to scowl but amusement creeps over my features.
Damn it.
“There you go being bossy again,” he says with a cocky smirk, then turns to walk to the bathroom. He pauses, reaching a hand back for me. “C’mon. Let me clean up that mess I made.”
“Wow, I guess chivalry isn’t dead,” I deadpan.
When I don’t move to follow him, he sighs and walks back to me. Before I can react, he picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder.