Chapter 7

When Jon knelt at my feet to pull my jeans down, I felt like a queen. When he leaned in to slide a tongue under my thong, I felt like a Goddess (and I arched from the wall with a scream caught in my throat). He ran a tender trail of kisses up and down my inner thighs until I thought I would collapse. I tried fisting my hands in his hair, but had to brace them against the wall instead to keep upright. I could feel him grinning against my leg as my breath hitched, and my body trembled. After what seemed an eternity of torture, he surprised the hell out of me by literally tearing the last remaining scrap of fabric from my body and throwing it over his shoulder.

“Oh,” he breathed, touching the smooth, tanned skin where curls ought to have been. Surprise! His mouth followed his fingers, and I think I had a coronary. He looked up at me with those clear blue eyes; eyes that have fueled the fantasies of millions of women. Blue eyes that right now were wide, sparkling, and boring through me, settling on my soul. I was never going to forget that look, never in a thousand eons.

“I take full advantage of all the services we offer,” I said on a whisper.

“You sure do, darlin’,” he said. “There isn’t a tan line on you. And this,” he stroked my mound again gently with his rough-tipped fingers. “This is quite unexpected.” He leaned forward to kiss where his fingers had been stroking, and I groaned. Good Lord, his lips felt like heaven.

Jon kissed his way down to my core, and licked a long, slow stroke that had my knees actually buckling. He held me against the wall with one hand while the other spread me open to his view. I had a sudden flash of what this must look like, but that was quickly driven from my head when Jon drove his stiffened tongue into me. As he thrust in and out of me, his thumb teased my clit, making me crazy. I could feel myself starting to contract around him, and my head lolled from side to side in helpless abandon. When he sensed I was close to release, Jon latched his lips onto my clit. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he sucked that little nub deep into his mouth. I exploded immediately and forcefully, screaming his name. He moaned a little and set to licking me clean.

Oh my God!

I never wanted to come down from this high. This was the feeling that people died for. Hell, this was the feeling that people killed for. Jon kept kissing me gently, easing me back to Earth. When most of the tremors subsided, he trailed a hand up the inside of my leg while he rose to kiss me. In one motion, he thrust his tongue into my mouth and two long fingers into my pussy. He worked his fingers slowly, giving me a little chance to adjust. One traitorous leg wrapped around his waist of its own accord, and he chuckled into my mouth. I reached down to pinch his ass for laughing at me. His chuckle turned into a groan, and he angled his head to kiss me harder, as his erection poked at my hip.

I ripped my mouth from his and took a deep gulping breath. My heart was racing and I was panting and mewling and having a hell of a time staying on my feet. Foot. Whatever.

“What’s the problem, Brooklyn?” he asked huskily.

“Not a damn thing, Jersey,” I retorted, “except I can’t breathe, and I think I’m gonna fall down in a minute.”

“Aw, now we can’t have that,” he said, slowing his pumping and making me writhe against the wall. “I guess I can stop if you need me to.”

The look I gave him made him laugh out loud. (I tried giving him an evil eye, I really did. It apparently came across as cute and not evil.) “You stop now, and I’ll shave you bald.” He sobered at this a little and kissed my neck as he eased a third finger into me.

“Now we definitely can’t have that,” he said, smiling.

I had one hand braced on Jon’s shoulder, and the other on the arm he was pumping me with. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted him to go harder or faster or what. I could feel the tell-tale tingling in the soles of my feet that let me know there wasn’t much time before I had another orgasm. I could feel it building; could feel myself tightening around Jon’s fingers. He had to know what was happening, but he was apparently content to keep me pinned to the wall, licking and kissing my neck.

My knee buckled again as waves of pleasure threatened to overtake me. Jon withdrew his fingers from me, causing the waves to subside a little. With a final kiss, he turned me over the arm of the couch, and drove into me from behind. I called his name as my fingers dug into the cushions. Jon’s fingers found my swollen clit and pinched gently as he stroked in and out of me. He’d withdraw almost completely, making me whine, and then bury himself to the hilt in one rough stroke. He was big and hot and harder than I could have thought possible. My eyes rolled back as the waves approached again. I tightened around him and he moaned my name, drawing it out, “God, Dia-a-a-ana.” THAT is a sound I could definitely get used to hearing.

I begged him, “Jon, harder, please.” I was so close, I could hardly stand it. He grabbed my hips with both hands, and thrust himself in and out of me roughly. The sound of our bodies connecting was wonderfully erotic. We were all sweaty and panting, and when I turned my head to look at him – God, that’s what I needed – the visual. Head thrown back, eyes closed, and the veins on the sides of his neck bulging. His chest was heaving, and the muscles of his six-pack were flexing enticingly. Jon’s thick, corded arms were holding fast, and his fingers digging into my flesh were exciting me. I wondered if he’d leave a mark, he was holding me so tight. God, I hoped so. I braced myself as best I could and arched my back ever so slightly, to take him just that little bit deeper. I could feel the fuzziness surround me as I came, screaming his name.

Jon growled deep in his throat, and emptied into me, my name on his lips like a prayer.