More Than Physical (The Physical Series Book Book 2)

by Hill, Sierra

  Sharp tingles of pleasure began building in her abdomen, her fingers cinched the duvet in her left hand, as her other made its way to the top of Jackson’s head, threading roughly through his hair. He growled against her center as she tugged sharply, his nose and eyes barely visible from her vantage point.

  Oh God.

  Yes.

  There.

  Right there.

  More.

  I’m going to…

  Before she could even finish her thought, she convulsed against him, her hips soaring up to meet his face, succumbing to the endless pleasure he had bestowed upon her. She was likely cutting off his oxygen supply at the moment, and he probably couldn’t breathe, but none of that seemed to matter. The explosion was so intense, so euphoric, her legs shook and her arms thrashed before everything went white.

  Sasha was nearly rendered speechless, her body sated and limp, like the Raggedy Ann doll she owned as a little girl. A high-pitched tone rang in her ears, creating a cacophony of sound inside her head. The only other time she’d ever felt this good was…oh, no. Not again.

  Flashes of memory zoomed into focus as their night in Cabo came rushing back. The shots of tequila. The dancing in the sand. The cavorting in the water. The flirting. The kissing. The fondling. The fucking.

  Closing her eyes, she willed the images away. It was all too much for her to deal with, her defenses obviously taking a vacation. Sasha did not want this thing with Jackson to be anything more than a casual, friends-with-benefits fling. And she couldn’t even call it a one-night thing anymore, because now it had morphed into something else. How did this even happen? When did Jackson become more than just her frenemy?

  The lump in her throat dissolved when Jackson lifted his head and languorously moved up her body, his lips luxuriously drinking in her skin like she was the most eatable dessert in the world. Opening one of her eyelids a crack, she peered down at the top of his head, his gorgeous face coming into view.

  God, he was too perfect. The wide smile that made him look like a cross between a Boy Scout, and a hot, sexy devil, tempting her to take a bite of the apple. And damn if she wasn’t fool enough to take that bite.

  “You doing okay there, Sash? You seem a little dazed,” he snickered, nipping at her neck, his mouth sucking on her most sensitive spot. It felt so good. His mouth was still slightly wet with her, and his hot breath had her shivering with pleasure.

  Sasha hummed as his tongue licked the outline of her ear, another involuntary shudder running down her spine.

  “Mmm. I’m doing just great, thanks to your very clever tongue.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the hard ridges and nubs, caressing over the slope of his back and down to the perfect curve of his ass.

  Jackson’s body jerked when her hand moved from his backside to tightly grasp his hard length. Pumping it in long, even strokes, Sasha lifted her face to watch Jackson’s heavy-lidded expression. His eyes were closed, his full lips pinned in a tight line, a look of pleasure and agony etched across his features.

  His hand gripped her wrist, jerking her hand off his cock as he shifted his weight, parting her legs further so she was spread before him. He took his shaft in his own hand, parting her silky folds, her own slickness coating him as he rolled the tip over her swollen nub.

  The skin-on-skin contact was disorienting in how good it felt. The thick slide of him between her lips, the friction of his hardness against her heat, made her delirious with lust. Never had she wanted anything or anyone more than she wanted to feel Jackson inside of her at that moment.

  Sasha moaned and cursed, her nails digging into his back as he drove her closer and closer to the edge again, the head of his shaft hitting her dead center with thrilling preciseness with every slow drag of his cock. Her want, need, thirst for him was indescribable.

  She marveled at Jackson’s restraint, even though she could see the tight anguish brushed across his features, and his body’s generosity in allowing her to use him to get off. She knew it wasn’t only her pleasure, though, based on his heavy pants and grunts with each pass of his tip against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

  “I’m too close, Sash…I need to be inside you soon.”

  “Yes,” she exhaled, wanting to prolong the pleasure that was beckoning her closer and closer to release. She was ready to hurdle over the edge again, could feel it climbing up legs, her spine, swirling low in her belly. But she wanted him inside her when she came. For him to fill her, driving deep inside and stretching her to capacity.

  “Wrap him up,” she quipped, nudging her hips to press against him. “And be quick about it.”

  Jackson cocked his eyebrows and rolled off her, his heat an immediate, saddening loss. With his back slightly turned away, she took the opportunity to peruse his nakedness. His glorious, impressive nakedness. She sighed happily as he stretched an arm out to grab his dress pants off the floor, his taut back muscles pulling and shifting across the planes of his upper body, as he quickly pulled a condom from the confines of his wallet.

  Sasha watched with excited interest as he ripped the foil packet open with his teeth, his hands deftly rolling the thin layer over his length. Looking satisfied with his quick work, he rolled up to his knees, grabbed her ankles and flipped her over on to her stomach. She made a squeak of excitement as she bounced lightly and then giggled.

  “And here I thought you were a simple missionary man.”

  A hand landed on her ass check, the sting of it sending a jolt of desire between her legs. Suddenly his mouth was at her ear, his smooth chest hovering over her back.

  “Let’s see how simple you think I am after I’m done with you. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t know what day it is when we’re through.”

  Without giving her a second to respond, his hands gripped the back of her thighs, yanking her up to her knees, her ass high in the air. And then with one thrust, he buried himself deep inside her walls.

  Every ounce of air in her lungs was pushed out in a loud exhale, as arousal rushed through her body, demanding to be released.

  “Oh shit. You feel…so goddamned good.”

  Jackson groaned loudly, his fingers in a vice like grip on her hips, his movements wild and rough. There was no stopping their momentum, as if he had just unleashed the beast from inside him. Just when she thought he was buried as deep as he could go, he’d pull all the way out before sliding in again, hitting her in a way that had her gasping for air. And then he’d slow it down so she could feel every agonizingly beautiful inch of him, before he’d slam it home again.

  “Jax, Jax…don’t stop.” Her tone was desperate and breathy, like she’d climbed the highest mountain and was working to summit the top.

  He leaned over her shoulder, his mouth next to her ear. “Be a good girl and touch yourself. Feel how wet you are. I want you to get yourself off while I’m fucking you.”

  God, she loved this side of Jackson. He invaded all her senses, taking control of her and her pleasure, where most men she’d been with didn’t give a shit if she made her way to the promised-land while they got their own rocks off. But Jackson made it his mission to make her feel good. He put her needs first, before his own – and that right there was the biggest turn on of them all.

  Sasha glanced behind her and did as she was told, slipping her index and ring fingers against her swollen nub, the slickness of her heat the evidence of how turned on she was. And how close she was to losing her mind. She couldn’t remember it ever feeling this good.

  “Come on, Sash. I can feel it…you’re almost there. Fucking get there before I lose it.”

  Jackson pounded into her, the sound of slapping skin and their bodies coming together like an orchestra of sensual music, mixed with their heavy breathing. It was beautiful.

  Sasha closed her eyes tight, the edges of sight slowly being consumed by the white dots of ecstasy. She screamed out his name as her muscles tensed around him, spasms of pleasure gripping his cock, giving ever
ything she had up to him as she let go of her control. Her head dropped low between her elbows, her breath coming out in shallow pants against the sheets.

  Jackson soon followed with his own shout of release, one hand tightly gripping her hip and the other laid out against her bare back, sliding over the sheen of sweat and heat. Thrusting one last time, his chest collapsed against her as he let out a long expletive, stilling against her as he came.

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes, as Jackson rolled to his side, pulling her down with him, his semi-hard cock still buried inside her. Sasha felt a sudden peace descend over her, like a warm coat wrapped around her body in the dead of winter. Warding off the bitter chill of reality.

  She must have sighed at the feeling of contentment because Jackson gave her a low chuckle in return, his warm breath skittering across her cheek.

  “I agree,” he murmured against the skin of her shoulder, shifting his arm slightly under her head. “That was amazing. It feels so good. So right between us, Sash.”

  What? That wasn’t what her sigh meant. Was it? No, he was definitely mistaken.

  Sasha moved away from, creating distance so their bodies were now separated, as she turned quickly to face him. He looked sleepy, well-fucked, and utterly gorgeous. The knowing grin on his face had her wanting to smack it off…or lick it off. Gah. He confused the hell out of her. How could he do that with just a dopey smile?

  “You need to understand something here, Rowdy,” she protested, poking her index finger into his smooth, hard chest. “This is just sex. It might be fantastically great sex, but that’s all it is.”

  His lids narrowed, his fingers coming up to grasp the back of Sasha’s head. She resisted, holding her ground.

  “I don’t know what’s going through that brain of yours right now, Mr. Lawyer. Maybe it’s just the after-glow, but let me set the record straight. You might be able to make me come, but that doesn’t mean we’re right together. So don’t go getting all gushy on me.”

  Jackson let out a scoffing laugh, flipping his legs off the side of the bed to head to the bathroom. Sasha watched in awe as his long, lean legs carried him through the door, his full, perfectly sculpted ass cheeks distracting her from her rant.

  Laying her head back down on the pillow, she stared up at the popcorn-spackled ceiling, trying to figure out how she’d gotten herself in this situation, and how the hell she was going to get out of it. Yes, the sex was amazing with Jackson. The man took her to places she’d never been before.

  But there was no need to further this dalliance or complicate matters with an overnight cuddle-session. Her decision to come up to his hotel room did not include a sleep-over. She never did overnights with a man. It made things awkward the next morning and annoyingly sentimental.

  Jackson’s low voice brought her back to their current unresolved predicament.

  “So, which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

  He gave her a little shove to the side as he crawled into bed, yanking the covers from her hips. She growled and snatched the sheet back as he propped himself up on his elbow to face her.

  “And if getting you to come as loudly as you did just now is considered getting gushy, than fuck yeah, that’s definitely in the plans for tonight.”

  Sasha groaned like a petulant child, wanting to stomp her foot for emphasis if she could, and rolled over on her side to face the opposite direction. The choice to leave now or to snuggle for just a little bit longer laid out before her like a fork in the road.

  With a tug of his arm, her body was hurled into the curve of his warm flesh, his hard length pressing at the small of her back and his manly scent enveloping her in a cocoon of delirium. Holy hell, this man smelled and felt so good. It had been less than ten minutes and he was already hard and wanting more. The niggling flutter of something floating around her belly, the tickling sensation of an unearthed emotion, began to take shape. That was not good. God, he was just so…so annoyingly yummy.

  She smiled a secret appreciative smile into her pillow, allowing herself to experience the quiet joy of feeling cherished and wanted. At least for the moment. She could give herself that, just this once.

  Closing her eyes in surrender, Sasha silently gave up her rigid inflexibility and let Jackson have his way with her one last time before succumbing to the overwhelming urge to fall asleep in his arms. Wrapped up in the warm embrace of her lover, who was doing his damnedest to make her forget about her rule of not sleeping all night with a man, Sasha fell into a deep slumber.

  The best sleep she’d had in years.

  Chapter Eleven

  Jackson rummaged through the stack of papers on his office desk, frantically searching for the contract that he and Mitch would be meeting about in less than an hour.

  Frustrated with his lack of concentration, a highly unusual Monday morning occurrence, Jackson cursed loudly when he knocked over his nearly empty coffee cup, the remaining drops of the dark liquid streaming over the surface.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, grabbing the papers to move them out of the way. “Casey! Get in here and bring a towel. Quick.” Jesus, what had gotten into him?

  Jackson’s executive assistant, Casey Carver, came flying into his office doorway, a look of bewilderment sketched out across her freckled face. She stood at the edge of his desk, the towel dangling from her hands, her wide, blue eyes scanning the room, possibly looking for the fire to put out.

  “Give me the goddamn towel now, Case.”

  Jackson felt a tinge of guilt as Casey’s mouth dropped open in shock, his harsh request sounding a lot like the frustration he’d been feeling over the last forty-eight hours, which was now being unfairly heaped on her. And it certainly wasn’t Casey’s fault that he hadn’t slept well the night before, and now couldn’t focus for shit.

  All his thoughts were wrapped up in the night he spent with Sasha and how it seemed he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  Jackson whipped the cotton material from Casey’s hands more forcibly then he meant to, and began dabbing at the spilled mess, kicking himself for being such a dumb klutz.

  Goddammit, this was not like him. He never let a woman get the best of him or get under his skin. Jackson had always been comfortable with casual relationships and he’d always kept a level head when it came to the opposite sex. It wasn’t as if this thing with Sasha, whatever it was, was something new to him. He’d had one-night stands and never got his undies in a bunch when he and his bed partner went their separate ways the next day.

  But then why did this continued longing for Sasha still exist? He fucked it. It was great. They were both satisfied. So what was the issue? Why did he feel like he was left with a gaping hole? It was a holy foreign feeling. Like he was a stranger in a strange land, trying to converse in a language he’d never heard before and didn’t know how to speak.

  What was it about Sasha Lee that had him pushing to get near her, even when she resisted and pulled back at every turn? Chasing a woman wasn’t something he had experience with. Truth be told, they normally came on to him. Jackson didn’t view himself as a womanizer or player, looking for more notches on his bedpost, but he wouldn’t refuse an offer to hook-up with a beautiful woman.

  And if they had a connection, then by all means, he’d make an effort to see where it led. He loved women, enjoyed their company. Their scent. Their fragility. Their strength. When something felt right with a woman, he’d continue to nurture the connection, and he wasn’t a stranger to relationships, although he wasn’t eager to jump in like he’d done with Abigail - his last committed, monogamous relationship that ended several years before.

  Abigail was a flight attendant, whom he’d met on a flight from Boston to New York City on one of his frequent trips to the Big Apple. She was based in Boston, but had grown up in Georgia, which is where she had been working to get back to when they met.

  By all accounts, they were good together, and Jackson was good to Abigail. If there was one thing that Jackson Koda was kn
own for, it was giving 110 percent in everything he did – and that included his love life. He never did anything half-assed. He’d treated Abigail like a queen, lavishing her with gifts, fancy dinners, trips to exotic destinations. He’d even fallen in love with her, or thought he had, at least, and was ready to propose when the bottom dropped out.

  She’d fallen in love with someone else. Someone she worked with. Someone whom she slept with during her many overnight trips to NYC and DC. Someone whom he had no hopes of competing with – because Abigail’s new love was another woman. Yes, that’s right. It’s hard enough on a man’s ego when he’s jilted by a lover for another man. But to be dumped for a chick? Yeah, that shit stinks. That’s like a kick in the balls with a steel-toed boot.

  It wasn’t like he had given up on finding someone new, but he was definitely gun-shy after that experience. So over the last few years, Jackson found himself casually dating and hooking-up here and there, but not looking for anything serious. He just hadn’t found that spark – you know, the one required to know that it’s something special. The one that blows away all semblance of casual and reeks of forever. The type of spark that gets under your skin and lays the groundwork for a slow, incendiary burn that can’t be put out by a couple of quick, blow-your-mind encounters.

  And that’s exactly what he felt with Sasha. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The way she spoke. Her scent. Her silky ebony hair. The manner in which she took everything in stride, letting the water fall off her back when things got dicey. She was the complete package. The perfect woman.

  But for some reason, Sasha chose to deny him the luxury of really getting to know her on a personal level. She was a tough nut to crack.

  Oh, he knew her intimately, all right. Every inch of her body he’d become very acquainted with during their bump-and-grind sessions. And those images replayed in his head every second of the day. On repeat.