Page 49 of Worth Every Game
I gasp as I feel him. The long, hard length of him pressed right against my core.
Oh. My. God.
This is dangerous. I should get up. Get off his lap. Walk away. I’ve done exactly what I meant to do. Achieved the goal. And yet I don’t stop, because feeling Jack beneath me like this isso fucking hot. I keep moving against him, and he lets his head fall back and moans again. His arms hang limp at his sides, but his hands are clenched so tightly that his knuckles whiten.
“El…”
The way he says my name, a low vibration that ripples right through me, does nothing to quell the rising arousal between my legs. Maybe he’s about to give in and admit he wants to quit the game and fuck. If I push a little harder, I could win. I put my hands on his shoulders and lean into him, pressing my lips right up to his ear. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me.”
His broad chest expands, and at my command those blue eyes stare right at me, and the expression is so fierce, so primal, sopredatory, that I have to force myself not to jump off him and run. And yet it’s also so attractive, so compulsive, that I couldn’t walk away.Talk about a headfuck.
I rotate my hips, pressing down against him more deliberately, aware my breathing is little more than shallow pants. I’m getting light-headed, and a delicious, lust-filled delirium consumes me with each thrust of my sex against him.
I don’t think I’m winning anymore. Hell, I’m not even playing, and I don’t care. We’re inches away from one another, and Jack still hasn’t touched me, although our hips are locked together.
“Keep doing that,” he grits out. “This is…fuck.”
A breathy moan slips from my open mouth. If he keeps talking in that deep voice of his, sounding like he’s about to lose it, I’ll explode. “Shhh,” I remind him. “Only I get to talk.”
His answering groan is a begrudging agreement.
“I can feel you,” I whisper, shifting against him, the steady pulse in my clit driving me to rub harder. His gaze doesn’t leave mine when he nods. “You feel so… fucking… good,” I murmur, and I’m not pretending, but even as the words slip from my mouth, I know I could play this off as part of the act.
“God, El.” His jaw tightens, his throat tensing. “Fuck. Don’t stop…”
I love the sound of his voice, all desperate and wrung out. I want to kiss his mouth, eat up his words. I don’t give a fuck that he’s ignoring my instructions.
The familiar tingles of an impending orgasm zap through me. I should stop. I should pull back. But, fuck, if this doesn’t feel good, I don’t know what does.
Jack jerks a little against me, meeting my movements. I’m not even dancing anymore. I’m just grinding on him like a teenager, dry-humping him, but I’m so far gone I don’t care.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
“I know, I fucking know,” he says on a moan, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on before. My blood whooshes in my ears, blocking out even the sound of the music playing, and Jack is meeting me halfway, the two of us a mess, tangled up, pressing ourselves as tight to one another as we can manage, without him actually laying a hand on me.
I close my eyes, head falling back as waves of increasing pleasure ripple through me. I let out a whimper that’s so distorted by lust, I can’t believe I made the sound.
“Open your eyes,” Jack grits out.
“What?” I gasp.
“Look at me when you come.”
His words spark something in me, and when I open my eyes, he’s there.Right fucking there. Staring at me. His eyes never leave mine, and as if his gaze is the flame that lights the fuse, I explode. Pleasure rips through me, powerful surges of it blasting through my body.
I cling to him, more unfamiliar noises tumbling from my lips. Wild, passionate sounds driven by the force of the orgasm that seems to go on and on and on, eking itself out as I rub myself against his hard cock. “Oh, fuck, fuck,fuck…”
I shudder with each rising crest, finally collapsing against him, my body radiating heat and slick between the thighs. Beneath me, Jack’s chest moves like bellows, sucking in huge breaths.
He hasn’t come. He’s still hard, right between my legs.Fuck.
A vibration emanates from his chest and it takes me a split second to realise he’s chuckling. Not a loud, ridiculing laugh, but a desperate, disbelieving peel of laughter, as though he has no idea how any of this came to pass. My guts tighten and my body stiffens, regret rapidly flushing through me, stronger with each roll of Jack’s laugh.
“You may be the best housemate I’ve ever had,” he pants.
Oh, shit.How did I let this happen? I can’t speak. Can’t form a single word. This was not the way this was supposed to go.
Jack must see something in my expression that kills his laughter, because it dies the moment we make eye contact. His erratic breaths are warm against my face, and in a twisted moment of connection, he presses his forehead to mine. “Thank you for the dance.” The whispered words are painfully sincere, making inexplicable tears prick my eyes. I let my hands slide from their resting position on his shoulders down his chest, settling where I can feel the racing of his heart. We sit like that, neither of us moving, as if what’s happened has left us both shell-shocked. Finally, Jack says, “Do you want to come upstairs?”