The Expert’s Guide to Driving a Man Wild (Bluebonnet #3)(15)
Author: Jessica Clare

She leaned down and grasped him firmly, wrapping her fingers around the length of his c**k and sucking the head into her mouth. She stroked once, hard.

He came. A hoarse groan ripped from his throat and his entire body clenched with the force of his release, his eyes squeezed shut. He was suddenly spurting into her mouth, unable to stop the flood of come as his body jerked and shook.

Embarrassing. He was as bad as a teenage boy. She’d never let him live this down.

Brenna stroked him again, her movements slow, and he felt her mouth rise off his cock. He slowly opened his eyes to see her swallowing the last of his release, and then she daintily wiped the corner of her mouth and gave him a sensual smile. “All better?”

“Sorry.” He felt f**king stupid.

“I’m not,” she said easily, tugging his pants down all the way to his ankles and then tugging at one of his shoes. “Now I get to explore you at my leisure.”

Her pose as she leaned over the side of the bed raised the curved moon of her bottom into the air. He was fascinated by that sight, watching it flex as she removed his shoes and socks, and then tugged his slacks off. Her fingers ran up his calves and then over his thighs. “You’re in good shape,” she said, sounding impressed.

“I exercise when I can’t sleep.” Which was just about every night. “It helps quiet my mind.”

“Mmm. Rock-hard legs.” She sat up and moved to his arms, running a hand along his bicep. “Are these hard, too?”

He flexed to show her, and she grinned at the sight, leaning down to bite the muscle. “Very nice. You’re just as built as Dane and Colt. You should be out there doing trainings with them.”

“I don’t belong in the field,” he said in a curt voice. Just the thought made him anxious. He wasn’t worried about himself inasmuch as he was worried that he’d be a danger to Dane and Colt. And speaking of those two . . . when was she checking out Dane and Colt, damn it? She’d never looked at him twice until tonight. Had she been ogling the other men the entire time?

Her exploring fingers lightly trailed over his chest, tugging at the light sprinkling of chest hair and then dipping to his belly button. “No piercings,” she said playfully, grinning up at him.

His c**k stirred at her smile, as if he hadn’t just come mere minutes ago. “Keep looking,” he told her, and was surprised to hear the command come out of his mouth.

It wasn’t like him to play back.

But it had been the right thing to say. She lowered her mouth to his chest, leaning in to nip lightly at both of his ni**les and then kissing a path back down to his belly button. “Still nothing here. Perhaps I should go lower.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed, reaching to twine his fingers in her hair and pulling back at the last moment. It seemed too intimate a gesture. She might have been comfortable with the new immediacy of their relationship, but he was still reserved in some aspects. Too much history in his head, maybe.

She brushed her lips down the trail of hair that led to his cock, which was half-erect again. Her playful touches and smiles—plus the skimming graze of her limbs and br**sts against him when she moved—were making him hard already. Her fingers gently cupped his sac, and she lightly rolled his balls back and forth, watching his reaction.

He groaned and his head fell back to the pillows. Damn. She knew how to touch a man.

“No piercings here,” she whispered. Her fingers skimmed over his half-erect c**k and then moved down, delving between his thighs and stroking the skin there.

To his surprise, she slid a finger lower, moving between his bu**ocks to press at the pucker of his ass. “Anything here?”

“Don’t you dare.”

She wiggled her finger against his skin, daring him.

He sat up and grabbed her, bearing her backward down to the bed again. Brenna fell with him, her laughter pealing through the room.

“You think that’s funny, do you?”

“I guess a prostate massage is a bit much for a first date?” Her voice was sweet and innocent.

“Don’t you have any boundaries?” he growled, reaching forward to cup one of her br**sts simply because he couldn’t help himself.

“Very few.”

“Let me guess, boundaries are no fun.”

“Something like that,” she said, and sucked in a breath when his thumb grazed her erect nipple again. “How’s your cannon?”

“Getting harder with every moment,” he told her, leaning forward and pressing his c**k at the wet junction of her spread legs to prove it to her. She rose her h*ps against him in response and tilted her face for another kiss. He licked and sucked at her full lower lip, knowing that she liked that, and every time she gave one of those sexy, breathy little gasps, he got a bit harder.

When she rocked against him again, it was his turn to groan. He tweaked her nipple again, pinching and rolling the tip between his fingers as he rocked against her pu**y once more, the head of his c**k sliding between the slick folds and then rubbing up against the piercing he’d almost forgotten about, which left both of them gasping.

“Condoms?” she asked, her h*ps raising again.

“Condoms,” he agreed, and moved to the edge of the bed to grab one, ripping it off the strip and tearing open the packaging. He fumbled with it for a moment, and then he was rolling it down his engorged cock, as thick and throbbing with need as he had been before.

He turned back to look at her and she raised her arms, her eyes glazed and wild with passion.

She was beautiful.

Grant moved over her, kissing her with languid expertise, savoring the feel of his tongue thrusting slowly into her mouth, mimicking the stroke of his cock. He slid a hand between them, deliberately skimming it down her pu**y before taking his c**k in hand and guiding it to her opening. She was scorching hot, wet with need, and her fingers were digging into his shoulders in encouragement.

He sank into her, one hand clenched against her shoulder, pinning Brenna against him. She was tight around him, the walls of her pu**y sucking him deep, holding him within her.

Brenna made a little whimper in her throat, biting her lip. Her fingernails dug into his back again, and when he didn’t immediately move, she smacked his shoulder blade. “Go, go.”

He’d stopped because he was savoring the feeling of being buried deep inside her far too much. His entire body ached and throbbed with pleasure, and she was clenched around him, the sensation exquisite. Five years had been too long . . . and somehow not long enough.