The Unidentified Redhead (Redhead #1)(27)
Author: Alice Clayton

His dark gray boxer-briefs were molded to his body as if they were made to be there. I could see his excitement underneath and my fingertips gently teased, fluttering and massaging him through the fabric. His hands wound in my hair and I pressed my face against him, feathering kisses on him, running my nails up the inside of his thighs.

“Sweet Grace, you are trying to distract me. It won’t work,” he warned.

Is that a challenge?

I looked up at him, running my hands up along his bottom, grasping the back of his boxers firmly.

“You sure about that?” I asked, eyebrows raised. Before he had a chance to answer, I pulled them completely down, grasped him in my hand, and took him into my mouth … fully.

“Oh, God, Grace … Jesus.” He groaned, his hands tightening in my hair, reflexively bringing him deeper into me.

Hearing that gorgeous voice, that unfettered British accent—oh my God.

I let him fill me, feeling the hardness of him at the back of my throat, and I smiled inwardly. This is exactly where I wanted him. He was perfect and huge and smooth and rock hard.

Did I mention huge?

I was in penis heaven.

I pulled back slightly, placing both hands on his length, and decided to mess with him a little. As I admired his perfection, I looked up at him and said.

“Would you call this a distraction?” I asked innocently, letting my tongue lick him from base to tip, playing it up as he watched me.

“Grace, what are you doing to me?” He moaned quietly, tracing his fingers lovingly around my face.

And in a voice that would have made a  p**n  star proud, I answered back naughtily, “Sucking your cock.” I even shocked myself a little.

There was silence. Jack stopped moving, fingers stopped, hands stopped, hips even stopped rocking. I closed my eyes in embarrassment.

Oh, God, why did you say that? Too soon, too soon!

Which is why I was so surprised when I felt myself hit the bed with such force that pillows were displaced all over the room.

Jack had picked me up off my knees and thrown me on the bed and was now attacking me vigorously. My pants were unceremoniously yanked down and tossed aside. All that was left between this now crazed Brit and me was a tiny pair of black lace panties … oops, I’d spoken too soon.

He tore, actually tore, my panties from my body, leaving me naked and shaking before him. I was in shock by the turnaround. Who knew the word

“cock” would do all this? I would have to remember that.

I heard the sweet sensual music of the Psychedelic Furs end, and somehow my play list from kickboxing class came on, aggressive and loud industrial music filling the room.

The band? The Prodigy. The song? “Firestarter.” Oh my.

Jack looked at me with crazy in his eyes and let his gaze travel all over my body, stopping where my legs met and licking his lips.

“Fucking brilliant.” He growled, and proceeded to grab my hips and pull me toward the edge of the bed, sinking down so that I was level with his face.

He bent his head to me.

And then Jack Hamilton began to give me the most earth-shattering series of orgasms I had ever experienced in my entire life.

His tongue touched me and I arched off the bed so violently that he had to hold me down. “No love, you aren’t going anywhere,” he admonished, and the feel of his hot breath against me almost made me come instantly. His hands gripped my hips, angling me so that I was presented to him, making me completely vulnerable to whatever he wished to do to me. I shivered in anticipation.

I didn’t know where he would come from next.

Oh, sweet lord.

His tongue made another pass, dragging all the way up, stopping just below where I needed him, circling, and then pulling back again. I let out a passionate groan, knowing that he would tease me as long as he thought I could handle it.

I didn’t know how long I could last. My hands buried themselves in my pillows as I gave myself over to the sensations that were coursing through me. The mix of the loud crazy music and the feeling of Jack’s hair as it tickled my tummy was an amazing combination.

The music seemed to drive him on, setting a pace to his tongue. He began again, starting at the bottom, and licking me, gathering me, never quite touching me where I wanted him, but dancing around it and over it, making me begin to moan and groan and thrash about on the bed. He did this for what seemed like hours, building me up and then letting me back down. It was maddening.

It was intoxicating.

It was not to be believed.

“Oh, God, that’s so good!” I cried, and I could feel him smile against me as he moaned back, his lips vibrating slightly.

Holy Lord, Jack Hamilton is going down on you. And the Brit has mad skills.

He stopped for a second, and I let my hands slip down and tangle in his hair.

“Grace, you taste unbelievable,” he murmured, letting his nose graze me, and I moaned loudly. Then, his fingers finally began pushing into me. I cried out from the sudden pleasure of it, feeling him inside of me was almost more than I could bear. I clenched down around him, unable to stop the good orgasm that was soon to rip through me.

“God, you’re beautiful.” He moaned, watching me react to his every touch, every stroke. His hands, his fingers were genius. He was playing me like an instrument.

I suddenly remembered the guitar in his bedroom from the other day. That was why he was so good at this. Guitar players always have the best hands.

I moaned again, beginning to lose it. He filled me up, pressing and twisting, searching for … fuck me, there it was. When he hit that, I lost my breath, all of it whooshing out of me in a rush and I froze.

He had found what would now and forever be known as my J-Spot.

I knew I was so close and I moved my hand from his hair, seeking his hand.

His right hand let go of my hip and entwined with mine and I began to see points of light dance across my eyes.

As he continued to apply pressure, stroking me from the inside, his tongue finally, thankfully, perfectly, caressed me at the center of my world.

He touched me, really touched me, for the first time. He pressed his tongue against me, not moving, not licking, not sliding, just holding me down and anchoring me with that one constant, perfect pressure. And I came undone.

I chanted his name repeatedly as I felt wave after wave crash through me, my hands tight in his hair as my back arched and I screamed lustily. The insides of my eyelids were a mix of colors that shot back and forth, exploding as I lost all control.

I lost track of all time. All I know is that in the space of several Prodigy songs, he made me come again and again. I was like a rag doll by the end, limp and limbless. He had taken me with his tongue and his fingers and his hands all over that bed. I was on the edge of the bed, and then I was flipped over on the bed. I was up against the headboard, spread-eagle, while he worked me from below. There was a particularly intense moment when he had me above him, my hands gripping the bedposts for balance while he worked his magical fingers and his super magical tongue inside me.