Captivated: Letting Go / Seize the Night. Megan Hart
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she didn’t look angry. Not quite.
“Yeah.” He took a step closer, waiting for her to pull away. She didn’t. “I think you do. I think you get off on it, the way I get off on you doing it.”
“Bullshit.”
“What’s bullshit is you trying to act like being in charge sexually makes you a controlling bitch, when one has nothing to do with the other.” Jesse took another step toward her. Close enough now to grab her, though he made no move to do so.
“My ex said—”
“Maybe,” Jesse told her, “you should think about letting go of what your asshole ex-husband said and just do what makes you feel good.”
She stifled a gasp. “You think fucking you made me feel good?”
“I know it did. And I’d like to do it again. And again, until you come so hard you can’t stand up.”
He’d blown it. Gone too far. He could see it in her eyes and the twist of her mouth and the way her shoulders squared. But Colleen surprised him.
“Take off your clothes,” she said. “Now.”
His hand went to his belt at once. Unbuckled. Unbuttoned. Unzipped. He shoved his jeans down his hips, past his thighs, and stepped out of them. She glanced at them when he kicked them away, but only for a second or so before her gaze fixed on his face. Jesse held Colleen’s stare with his as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed that, too. Standing in only his socks and boxer briefs, his cock already straining the soft fabric, he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and waited. Heart pounding.
“Everything,” she told him. “I want you naked.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He’d tried to sound light, but failed. His voice was as thick with need as his hardening dick.
Colleen groaned softly, drawing out her reply, spoken so softly he barely heard it. “Fffffffuck.”
Naked in front of her, cock bobbing, he should’ve felt ridiculous. But when she circled him, admiring, letting one hand reach to trail along his shoulder blades and then down the line of his spine, all he could do was close his eyes and enjoy the caress. When she slid a hand to cup his balls, then stroke him, his knees buckled.
“Get on your knees,” Colleen whispered. There was nothing of whips or chains in that command, nothing harsh. She said it as though she expected his worship, but did not yet believe she deserved it.
He didn’t so much get on his knees as much as he melted onto them. His hands went naturally behind his back, wrists crossed at the base of his spine. He didn’t think about why. She hadn’t asked him for that. It just seemed right.
At the soft touch of her hand on his hair, he shuddered. Gooseflesh broke out all over him, though he was anything but chilled. Her hand passed over his head and then cupped his chin. She tilted his face to look up at her.
“You can go,” she told him. “I can’t make you stay. Or do this.”
In reply, he turned his face to kiss her palm. He spoke against her skin. “Tell me what you want, Colleen. And I’ll do it.”
“I don’t know what to ask.” Her voice rasped. “I’m not sure how.”
He leaned to press his face to her belly. She wore leggings. When he pushed his mouth between her legs he could feel the heat of her through them. He breathed out, adding the heat of his breath. Then the pressure of his mouth and chin.
“Do you want me to kiss you,” he murmured, “here?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“I want you to undress me,” she said in a syrupy, dreamy voice. “Take off my clothes and eat my pussy until I come.”
He was already tugging down her leggings to get at her bare skin beneath. The lacy scrap of her panties tickled his lips when he kissed her there. The smell of her filled his senses, making his head whirl. She moved, and he moved, turning so that she ended up sitting on the chair next to him. Still on his knees, he moved between her legs and covered her mound with his mouth. Breathing, sucking gently through the lace. He wanted his mouth on her bare skin so bad it hurt, but he was waiting.
“Panties off,” Colleen said. “I want your mouth on me.”
At the first taste of her, his cock throbbed. His balls ached. His hands slid up her thighs to open her to his questing tongue, then his fingers. He found her clit and flicked his tongue along it, then the seam of her, dipping briefly inside to taste her honey before finding her sweet spot again. He pushed a finger inside her, then another, moving them in time to the stroking of his tongue.
She tasted like heaven, but the sounds she made when he licked and sucked her were making him lose his mind. Right then there was nothing Jesse wanted more than to make this woman explode. He eased off, teasing her a little.
“Don’t stop.” Her hands dug into his hair, pulling him closer. Her hips rolled, pushing that sweet pussy against his mouth.
It was all he could do to keep up with her now. Jesse lost himself in making Colleen climax, teasing her swollen folds and the tight, hard knot of her clit until she cried out his name. Shit, he almost came just from the flood of sweetness she released on his tongue and the grip of her inner walls on his stroking fingers.
She shook, pulling his hair hard enough to make him groan. Then she eased off, relaxing back into the chair. Going limp.
“Oh, my God,” Colleen said. “Do you think you could do that again?”
Chapter Six
The best part of making mistakes was learning from them. Colleen’s dad had said that often, always when she’d blundered in some way or another, although he’d always been good about never making her feel like an idiot for messing up. He would’ve said it about her marriage to Steve, she knew that much, if he’d been alive to see it happen. There were times when she’d wished the heart attack that had taken her father too young had spared him long enough to have said it. Other times, she was glad he’d never had to see her mess up so terribly in something so important.
What would he have said about Jesse?
She simply didn’t know. It hadn’t felt like a mistake at the time. Taking him home, spending the weekend with him. Fucking him until they were both weak-kneed and faint and aching in places she didn’t know she had muscles. But on Monday morning, when he’d insisted on shoveling out her car for her before heading back to his own, it had begun to feel like she’d screwed up. Big-time.
He’d kissed her on her front porch, and she’d let him because it would’ve been impossible to refuse after the weekend they’d shared. Not unless she wanted to come across as, well, cold and frigid. Or rude. So she’d let him kiss her, even though it had felt too much like a promise she knew she couldn’t keep.
He was too young. Too handsome. Too eager to please her. He made her feel too much in too short a time. She was ripe to be swept off her feet, seeing as how it had been a damn long time since she’d so much as kissed a man, much less had wild, passionate, unfettered sex with one.
This could only lead to misery and heartbreak. Hers. She felt the stirrings of it already, that yearning to see him again though it had only been a day since that last kiss. The constant checking of her phone to look for a text that couldn’t possibly be there, since she hadn’t given him her number. Yet still hoping he’d magically found it. Worse, the urge to saunter on down to The Fallen Angel all casual-like, even though it was not a Thursday and he might not be working. Or he might be, which wouldn’t be any better, because then he’d know for sure she was there to see him, and he would know that she liked him. All of this was a giant platter of nope with a side order of hell no.
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