Jake (California Dreamy)

by Rian Kelley

  She did. For one hot moment she drew him in, her lips clasped around his cock, her tongue swirled over the head, and she sucked. A small tug, but too much for him. His body jerked in response. It was a small, involuntary movement and Ivy’s head smacked against the steering wheel.

  Jake swore, smoothed a shaking palm over the crown of her head, and lifted her away.

  “Not now.”

  “No,” Ivy agreed. She shifted so that she was sitting upright, though her hand lingered at his thighs.

  “I’ll be good,” she promised. He was, after all, driving a motor vehicle.

  He nodded, swallowed and tried to clear his throat.

  “Your response does a lot for me, too,” she confided.

  “I understand.” His voice was raspy.

  “I need to know you want me as much as I want you.”

  “More. Don’t ever doubt it.”

  She shrugged and the movement drew her fingers down the length of his erection. Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. His face grew more taut.

  “Sorry,” she said and shifted her hand to the seat. “It’s just that you’re always so in control. It bothers me.”

  “I need to be, Ivy. “ He took her hand and placed it on his leg, above his knee but no

  further into tempting territory. Then he spread his palm over her hand and joined their fingers. “You’ve pushed me closer to the edge than anyone else, ever. Does that count for anything?”

  She nodded. She supposed that would have to be enough. Jake was a Lieutenant in the Marine’s. His every action and reaction was disciplined. They had to be. It was a life-saving skill and deeply ingrained in him. But she was still a little disappointed that he would never be swept away with her.

  He slowed the truck and pulled into a space at the end of the street running parallel to hers. He cut the engine and clasped her hand.

  “Come on,” he urged, slipping out the driver’s door and pulling her along behind him.

  Ivy’s legs still felt rubbery. Her knees weak. She tightened her grip around his hand and snuggled into his side as the breeze off the Pacific wrapped around them. The palm fronds overhead clattered. The masts on the Hobie Cats, which were pulled up on the sand below them, creaked as they tilted in the wind. Across the Bay, the sweeping trail of lights on the Ingraham Street Bridge was diffused by the rising fog. Tonight, the moon was a small quarter slice dangling among a handful of stars. And this was her view. She fell asleep every night, lulled by the lapping water and woke every morning to a golden landscape. You couldn’t beat that.

  “Right here,” Ivy whispered into the hushed night.

  Her studio apartment was one of three on the upper floor of a two story home. She had a corner unit and paid an extra seventy-five dollars a month for the better lighting and view. It was worth every penny.

  Ivy led Jake to a stone staircase at the back of the property. It curved upwards to an

  outdoor patio she shared with her neighbors. There were potted plants, a gas barbecue, and a few cocktail tables with stools around them.

  Jake released her hand as she ascended before him, but did not completely disconnect with her. She felt his fingers on her back, at the hem of her sweatshirt. When she got to the door and rummaged through her purse for her keys, his fingers slipped lower, dipped into the back pocket of her shorts and tugged her toward him. Her bottom came to rest in the cradle of his thighs. He was still hard, but not quite as impressive as earlier.

  She managed to slip the key in the lock, even with the dim lighting and her heart skipping a few beats as it knocked against her chest.

  His mouth found that spot below her ear and his whispered roughly, “Two minutes.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ivy’s bed was the focal point of the small room. It was full-sized and draped in soft cotton linens. There was no couch, only a nightstand and a wall unit that held a large screen TV, several books, and pictures of Ivy with another woman he assumed was her sister. There were three windows. Two of them looked out on the water. The curtains were open and emitted a soft silver light cast by the street lamps. He threw the light switch anyway. He wanted to see Ivy. He didn’t want to miss a single detail. Not a fleeting expression on her face, not a dimple on her body. He turned her so that they could look into each other’s eyes. Hers were a warm dark chocolate, flared with passion and full of intent. And damn, if they didn’t feel like fire on his skin.

  “Take your clothes off.” It was a throaty demand and was accompanied by her hands on the hem of his shirt. She pushed it up and he finished the task by whisking it over his head.

  Her hands tangled in the waistband of his shorts even as her mouth opened over his chest. It was a soft kiss that ended with a gentle nip of her sharp teeth. Reaction shot straight to his dick and Ivy murmured her appreciation.

  “You’re next,” he said and peeled her sweatshirt over her head. The running top was skin-tight and when he released her breasts they swayed gently. Gorgeous. Seriously, heart-stopping, cock-hardening gorgeous. “Damn,” he whispered reverently. Her skin was naturally darker than his own, a sweet caramel only slightly lighter where she’d been protected from the sun. Her breasts were large, the tips a dusky rose that made his mouth water. The ache in his cock deepened and he pressed his palm to its insistent need.

  “Let me,” she said, but he stopped her.

  “No way. It’s my turn now.”

  He moved forward, so that their bodies touched, his moving hers toward the bed. When her knees met the mattress, he lowered her, taking her mouth with his in a kiss that was all about getting inside her. He thrust his tongue deeply, tangling with hers, dominating, because she’d had her fun and it was definitely time for him to play.

  Still lip-locked, he crowded her until she was lying on her back. He slipped between her thighs, pushed his cock against her cleft and swallowed her pleas for more. The blood was pounding in his head, stiffened him beyond endurance—almost.

  He pulled back and looked at her beneath him, her dark hair fanned out on the mattress, her almond eyes closed. Her skin passion-flushed and her teeth sawing at her lip now.

  He lowered his head and kissed her again, this time an annoyingly sweet caress—he could tell because she moaned her complaint. He found her ear next and curled his tongue around the lobe. Her breathing adjusted, a slight hitch. He whispered into her ear every thought he had on the beauty of her breasts. And followed that with a long swirl into her ear. Her fingers curled into his shoulders. Her hips rose against his.

  He felt her beaded nipples against his chest and smoothed his hands down her shoulders,

  over her arms and mated his fingers to hers. Then he spread her arms out, so that she was completely open to him. His hands held hers to the mattress.

  “Open your eyes,” he demanded and waited until she was hooked in his gaze. “Watch me.”

  He lowered his head and took a nipple into his mouth. He teased it gently with his teeth, tugged on it, and felt her body bow against his. She pushed against his hands, but he held her firm. If she put her hands on his body now he’d explode.

  He moved to her other breast, lavished it with attention, and groaned when Ivy moved her hips against his.

  “Jake,” she whimpered his name. Her nails dug into his fingers. “Let me touch you.”

  He shook his head. “Not gonna happen. Not yet.” He drew his head down her body, licking and kissing his way to her navel. When he dipped inside, her body bucked against his. He lapped again with his tongue, blew softly into the well, probed with the tip of his tongue, and felt her twist beneath him.

  “That’s good,” he murmured.

  “Yes.” She tugged at her hands. “Jake please.”

  “I want you ready,” he said.

  “I am,” she promised.

  He lowered his head again, sliding his tongue under the waistband of her running shorts. He could smell her sex now, thick with need.

  “You’re wet.”


  “Yes. Very.”

  “I want to taste you.”

  “No.”

  “Hell yes.”

  “I want you inside me. Now.”

  He had to free a hand to remove her shorts, to bury his face in her sweet intoxication. He needed to do it now. So he laid an arm over her chest, pinning her to the mattress, held her shoulder gently in his hand, and used his other to peel the silky material away from her body.

  “Sweet Jesus.” His voice was barely a whisper, broken by the intensity of his feelings. “You are beautiful.”

  She had a triangle of downy curls, a modest and final covering of her sex. Jake buried his face there, inhaled deeply, and searched for her sweet spot with his tongue. He lifted her thigh to open her and he felt her hand in his hair, her smooth thighs move against his cheeks, and quickly tumbled into her essence. She was wet from wanting him and he lapped it up. He teased her clit and heard her call out. He stroked deeply into her folds, savored her taste on his tongue, delved again for more. But still it wasn’t enough. He released her and slid his hands under her bottom, lifted her firmly against his mouth. He flicked his tongue against her clitoris, suckled it, lapped at the juice his work produced. She trembled with her need to come, bowed against him as though she would snap in two, and finally, enthusiastically, bathed him in her passion as she climaxed.

  He stroked her again. And again. Loving the taste of her, wanting her orgasm to be complete. And when he shifted back on his heels and looked at her, he felt his cock jerk and begin to drip his seed.

  Never. He’d never been so moved, so connected to another woman. No one had ever mattered so much to him. He watched her chest rise and fall in an agitated rhythm, her eyelids flicker. She lifted her hands and captured her breasts. She squeezed them, maybe to alleviate the last bit of tension, or to stretch out her pleasure. He wasn’t sure. But he could take no more. He took his cock in hand and came in a burst of pure bliss as he watched her fondle her body.

  Ivy surfaced slowly. Her dazed and dizzying world settled to a soft rocking, but her body continued to buzz. Mercy, Jake had stoked her need until relief was an excruciating joy. He had been so deeply into her, the memory made her skin heat. Made her core ache. Her climax had been blinding. She had glimpsed him between her legs, thoroughly intent on driving her crazy. She had never known such single-minded determination or its sweet reward. Her lips curled with the memory of it. She was so completely satisfied and felt a peace she’d never known existed. And she hadn’t even had him inside her yet.

  Not inside her. She had gotten so carried away by her own pleasure, she had forgotten about Jake. Well, she hadn’t forgotten him. Impossible. But she hadn’t pleasured him.

  Her eyes snapped open. She stared at the ceiling, at an angel as her legs were still draped over the side of the bed.

  “Jake?”

  “Right here.”

  She lifted her head and watched him approach from the bathroom, a wet cloth in his hand. He stopped before her and stared at her with a sweet intensity.

  “You are amazing, Ivy Warner,” he said.

  He was naked. His body flushed, but he was no longer engorged.

  “But I didn’t—“

  “You did.” He crouched before her. “I’m sorry. I got a little messy.”

  His semen was dripping down the inside of her thigh and he wiped it up with long strokes of the warm cloth.

  “How?” she asked, watching his tender ministrations. “I mean, I didn’t get a chance to even touch you.”

  “You touched me all right.”

  He brought the cloth up and nudged her thighs further apart. Then he touched her where his mouth had been. She was sticky and he wiped away her discomfort, but his touch on her sensitive hood was exquisite torture. She heard her breath hitch. Watched his skin flush and the flame in his eyes leap.

  Ivy sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed. She was no longer edgy with need, which meant she could take her time and enjoy Jake. She placed her fingertips on his forearms and allowed them to drift over the corded muscle, dip into the wells of definition on his biceps and shoulders.

  “I thought you might have a tattoo.”

  “It’s a small one.”

  Over his heart, Semper Fi.

  She opened her mouth over it

  “The Corps saved my life,” he said.

  “You were a wayward teen.” She traced the letters with her tongue and then dipped lower and laved the nipple.

  “I needed direction. Purpose,” he agreed. “But it’s not everything,” he continued, tipping his head, taking her chin in a gentle grip and turning her face up so he could sink into her eyes. “You could be my everything, Ivy.”

  He kissed her then. Deeply. Slowly. Thoroughly. His hands came down on her hips and he moved her closer, so that she could feel his erection stirring. His fingers drifted up her back in the softest touch it could almost be air from an open window. They tangled in her hair, pulling lightly so that her head fell back. He moved his mouth to her neck, his tongue tasting, and Ivy felt that familiar tension begin to twist inside her.

  “I want you inside me this time.”

  “Definitely,” he agreed.

  “I want you to come first.”

  He shook his head. “Not gonna happen.”

  “You watched me,” she pointed out.

  He lifted his head and stroked a hand through her hair as he regarded her. “It was an earth-shattering moment for me, Ivy.”

  Where urgency had driven them earlier, Jake imposed a gentleness this time that slowly unraveled Ivy. He kissed her in new places and lingered over every touch. Ivy began to feel passion grow in a way she had never experienced. It was a slow, steady burn. She explored his body just as leisurely, falling into his pacing. They sought each other’s gaze often, lost in response as touch was applied and withdrawn and new locations tested. Ivy focused on his neck and soon discovered that a combination of tongue and teeth just below Jake’s ear drove him crazy.

  She smiled against his skin and whispered. “Ahha!”

  His only answer was the long shuddering of his body and his hands as they tightened against her head, asking for more. She gave it to him.

  She rolled Jake so that he was on his back and straddled him.

  “Is this how you want it our first time?” he asked.

  “Do you have something else in mind?”

  “I think I’ll get more out of this position than you.” He lifted her breasts in his hands and rolled up so that he could suckle a nipple.

  Which was how she wanted it. Jake had already given to her. An orgasm so profound she could only hope a repeat performance was somewhere in her future. She pushed firmly against

  his shoulder so that he was again on his back, but reminded him, “You know where to find me.”

  “Hell yes.”

  “And I trust your timing.” She wiggled her bottom, stroking the length of his erection. His eyes closed, his jaw tensed.

  “Ivy? We’re going to have to get a condom soon.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Pants pocket. Front right.”

  She scanned the room from her perch and spotted his jeans on the chair next to the window. Too far. She would have to get out of bed. Leave his warmth. Leave the insistent push of his cock against her.

  She rose up on her knees. “Don’t move,” she said. She took him in her hand, stroked his shaft. Rubbed the sensitive ridge that ran the length of him. And then lowered herself and held just the tip of his penis against her core.

  “What are you doing?” His breath was thick, his eyes glued to where they were almost joined.

  “I’m relying on your control.” She stroked herself again and felt herself melt over him.

  “You’re playing with fire,” he gasped.

  She moved him slickly through her folds and increased the pressure when she brought him to her swollen clitoris. She felt herself bloom, threw her head back and choked out his name.

&nbs
p; Jake rolled away and Ivy wavered on the edge of climax. God, it was sweet torture. She opened her eyes and watched him grab his shorts, pull a string of condoms from the pocket, and tear into one.

  “Let me.” She held her hand out as Jake slid back into bed.

  Ivy kissed the tip of his penis, rolled her tongue around the burgeoning head, and only then slipped the condom into place.

  Jake took her hips and would have plunged into her, but Ivy stopped him.

  “Me,” she said, barely capable of words.

  She placed her hands on his knees, arching her back, and slid slowly down his shaft. Jake released a long, shuddering groan.

  He felt so right inside her. And it was more than a physical reaction on her part. The thought was disturbing, coming too fast into territory well-protected. Or so she’d thought. She didn’t trouble over it for long, though, because Jake wasn’t content to kick back for the ride. He picked up the rhythm and then reached between them to make sure Ivy was well taken care of.

  Chapter Twelve

  The alarm on Jake’s watch went off at five-thirty. He fumbled for it on the night stand, silenced it, and then propped himself on Ivy’s pillows and watched the gray dawn light creep through the windows and soften her face. She was beautiful, lush curves and classic cultural features. And for the entire night she had forgotten her inhibitions, her fears, and made love with him with an abandon Jake had never experienced before. She had a wicked sense of humor, a physical strength that nearly matched her passionate and compassionate nature.

  He remembered how her eyes had gone liquid when he’d told her about Arturo. Speaking about the soldier loosened the sadness of his loss. Ivy had been ready then to slow down, to accept another date before they’d brought sex into the mix. As if he’d have let her.

  But her concern for him had been genuine, so much so he’d read regret on her face. He could tell that she was silently chastising herself for her impatience.