by Tracy Wolff
SOPHIE WENT crazy at the feel of Jack’s mouth touching and tasting her right in the center of her favorite erogenous zone. Heat, red-hot and electric, raced up her spine and she moaned as her body woke up with a vengeance from many years of hibernation.
He felt so good, made her feel so good, that she wanted to forget everything but this moment, forget everything but him and the way he felt—hands, mouth, body. She trembled at the way he fit against her, and at the thought of what he might feel like inside her. It had been a long time since she’d made love to a man, so long that she expected to be a nervous wreck at even the prospect of that kind of intimacy. But there was no room for nervousness here, no room for embarrassment as she clutched onto her friend’s shoulders, onto Jack’s shoulders, and felt herself opening to him in one luxurious stage after the other. He pulled away for a moment, though his breath was hot and heavy against her ear as he whispered, “Do you really want to do this?”
For a second, doubt—ice-cold and horrible—washed through her. “Don’t you?” she whispered.
“Yes. Of course. I want—” When he literally choked on the desire behind his words, it was enough, more than enough, to drive away her doubt.
Twisting her fingers in his too-long hair, she yanked Jack’s mouth back to hers and went about the slow, steady, fascinating job of devouring him. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her. He smelled like sandalwood and lemon, tasted like coffee and rich dark chocolate, and she wanted to absorb him into her pores completely. To take him inside her and feel him in her every depth.
This time it was her turn to dip into his mouth, her tongue stroking over his, before moving on to the roof of his mouth. He groaned once more, his hands tightening in the hair that fell down her back. Then he wrenched his mouth away.
She tried to follow him, but he set her a little bit away from him. Not far, but just enough so that they both could think. In theory. “We can’t do this here,” he said through quick, heavy breaths. His voice was so husky with desire it was nearly unrecognizable. Reality came to her slowly.
“Oh, right.” She remembered that they were sitting on his front porch, in full view of the entire neighborhood. But now that he’d been the voice of sanity, she didn’t know what to do. Whether to suggest they go inside and pick up where they’d left off, or whether to go back to her planting like the past ten minutes had never happened.
She knew what she wanted to do, what her sex-starved libido was screaming at her to do. But that didn’t mean Jack felt the same way. Obviously. He was the one who had called a halt to things. It was probably for the best anyway. She and Jack were friends, but sex complicated everything and it was a complication they both could do without. In fact—
Jack stood up, extending his good hand to her. “Do you want to go inside with me?” When she looked up at him in surprise, she realized that his eyes had darkened so much that the irises were nearly indistinguishable from the pupils.
Maybe she wasn’t alone in these lust crazed feelings, after all.
And now that she looked closer, looked underneath her own desire, she could tell that Jack needed someone, needed her. His hands were shaking, his eyes were wild and he was on the verge of breaking apart.
Somewhere, in the back of her head, a voice was telling her all the reasons this was a really bad idea, that desperation sex never had a good outcome. But for once Sophie told the voice to shut the hell up. She was a grown woman walking into this thing with her eyes wide open. She knew Jack had issues right now, knew that she couldn’t expect anything more from this than the pleasure Jack gave her. And she was okay with that.
Putting her hand in his, she let him pull her up and into the house.
* * *
THE SECOND the door closed behind them, he was on her, his arms wrapping around her even as he started backing her up across the room. She was on fire, her entire body going up in a conflagration of need that she couldn’t escape. Didn’t want to escape. It had been years since she’d felt this urgency, this passion—if, indeed, she had ever felt it—and she was going to revel in it as much as she could.
Jack’s mouth raced frantically over her face. Over her forehead, down her cheeks, across her jaw before his lips finally found hers. When they did…when they did, her knees buckled and she had to twist her fingers in the soft cotton of his T-shirt to keep from falling. He was so intent on devouring her that she doubted he’d even noticed.
“I need to be inside you,” he growled against her mouth, his hands slipping beneath her tank top to cup her breasts. They were full, aching, her nipples so tight it was a physical pain, and when his thumb brushed under her bra and against them she didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or whimper with delight.
In the end she did both, letting out a sound that was as foreign to her as a one-night stand. The sound seemed to push him over the edge, because suddenly her yoga pants and panties were around her knees and he had two long fingers buried inside her.
She did scream then, the sensation of being full with him almost more than she could bear.
“I’m sorry,” he growled, “I can’t go slow. I’ll make it up to you next time.”
“Just do it,” she whimpered. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, yanked out a condom and tossed the rest across the room. He spun her around so that her bottom rested against his upper thighs, and as he tore open the wrapper, she braced her hands against the tall table he had in the entryway and bent at the waist in open invitation.
There was one long second of silence, one long moment of agony, while he sheathed himself and then he was there, between her legs. Blunt and hard and so big and thick that her eyes nearly crossed as he probed gently at the opening of her sex.
She expected him to be rough, hurried, expected it to even hurt a little at first as it had been years since she’d done this, and she braced herself for it. But now that he was so close, he didn’t rush. Instead, he leaned forward until his lips were right next to her ear and whispered, “You’re so beautiful. So damn beautiful.” He ran his hand down her cheek.
The words, combined with the feel of him right against the core of her body ratcheted Sophie’s need to a fever pitch. “Please,” she begged. “I need—I need—”
“What?” he demanded, thrusting forward a little, until he was buried about halfway inside her. “What do you need?”
Halfway wasn’t enough.
“I need you!” she wailed, thrusting back against him.
That broke his control like a fragile, spring twig. Thank God.
He slammed into her so hard that he rocketed her up onto her toes. She was wet and hot and more than ready for him, so there was no pain—only pleasure so intense that she climaxed right there, with the first stroke of him deep inside her.
“Damn!” he growled, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her in place. Again, she expected him to pound into her, was even anticipating it, but he held her—and himself—still until she finished coming. As if he were absorbing every clench and contraction of her body on his.
As if he were somehow absorbing her very pleasure into himself.
Then he began to move again in slow, steady, powerful strokes that had her clutching at the table as the fire reignited deep inside of her. Soon—too soon—she was on the brink of coming again. But she didn’t want to go over alone this time, didn’t want to lose herself in the ecstasy without him.
Tightening her inner muscles in a long, slow caress, she did what she could to take him as high as he had taken her. He groaned and began thrusting harder, so she did it again. And again. And again.
His good hand worked its way up from her thigh to her hair and he pulled her head back sharply. She gasped, but didn’t fight him as he twisted her head to the side.
“Kiss me,” he commanded, seconds before his lips came down on hers,
hard.
She did, pulling his lower lip between her teeth and nipping at him. She wanted more of him, wanted all of him. Craved him until he became an inferno in her blood.
She bit him again, a little harder this time, and the little shock of pain must have been what he was waiting for, because he came with a roar. She followed him over the edge, her body pulsating in twenty different directions as her orgasm ripped through her like a forest fire.
She wrenched her mouth from his, gasped for breath, but Jack wouldn’t let her go. He followed her, his mouth ravenous on her own while the heat of his body seared hers wherever it touched. In moments, the pleasure swamped her, overwhelmed her.
She gave herself to him—to his kiss and his touch and the wild, wicked need that she had come to realize was as much a part of him as his caring heart and dark, wary eyes.
As she did, the whole crazy maelstrom started inside her all over again. She pulled him with her as she fell.
CHAPTER TEN
WHEN IT WAS over, when he was gasping for breath and it felt like his mind, his soul, his very essence had been sucked out of him and into Sophie, Jack gasped and slumped against her. He knew he needed to move, that he was pressing her upper thighs into the table, but for long seconds he couldn’t do anything but rest against her soft, sweet body and try to recover.
He was still gasping, still dragging air into his oxygen-starved lungs, when she stirred beneath him. He forced his shaky knees to support him as he stepped back. “Did I hurt you?”
Now that he could see her face, the fear that he had indeed been too rough was livid inside of him. He’d taken her like an animal, he realized in vague horror. Had slammed her into the house and up against the furniture, had taken her from behind like a sex-crazed maniac. It wasn’t how he would have wanted their first time to be.
Not that he’d spent a lot of time thinking about getting his new friend into bed, but if he had, he would have chosen something more romantic, less base and animalistic. If he’d been able to think or reason or do anything but want, he would have done it differently. But the second he’d put his mouth on Sophie’s, it was like the entire world had faded away, until the only things left were the two of them and the almost violent need that stretched taut between them.
Stepping back even more, he prepared to apologize for his roughness, but his first look at Sophie’s face stopped the apology in his throat.
She was glowing, her entire countenance alive with the power and passion of what they had done, and she was gorgeous with it. Oh, he’d always known she was a beautiful woman, but looking at her now, hair tousled, skin flushed, eyes more than a little sex-drunk, she was amazing. There was no sign of his sweet little neighbor, the one he’d felt the need to apologize to and coddle. Instead, she was a sex goddess, begging for another round.
He felt himself growing hard again and marveled at the wonder of it. Ever since he had been shot, he hadn’t been particularly interested in sex, his libido tamped down by his physical and emotional pain. But it looked like he was making up for that in spades with sweet and sexy Sophie.
She noticed his renewed arousal, and her kiss-swollen lips curved in a knowing grin. “If you want to go a second round, you’re going to have to feed me first. I’m starving.”
He grinned, happy with her and himself and the whole world around him for the first time in a very long while. Shit. If he’d known making love to Sophie would do this to him, he would have tried to get in her pants a long time ago.
“What would you like?” he said, and after disposing of the condom he used his good hand to pull up his jeans and re-button them. It took him a lot longer than it would have three months ago, but Sophie didn’t seem to mind. In fact, after she had rearranged her own clothing, she slipped behind him and copped a feel, her small, delicate hand tracing over the still aroused lines of his sex and making him even harder.
He blew out a long breath. “Are you sure you want to eat?”
“Positive,” she answered as she moved past him into the kitchen. “I skipped breakfast this morning.”
He wasn’t sure what to expect when he followed her. Some awkwardness, probably, since this thing between them had come almost out of nowhere. Sure, he’d found her attractive, and obviously she had felt the same way, but he’d never really considered making love to Sophie before. He was still too fragile, though he hated to use that word, his mental outlook and peace of mind not what they needed to be to enter any kind of relationship.
But this didn’t feel like a relationship, more like a friendship with really great benefits, and he certainly couldn’t complain about that.
And she couldn’t either, it turned out, because there was no awkwardness on her part as she rummaged through his refrigerator and came away with enough sandwich fixings to feed an army. “I can make you an omelet if you’d like,” he told her as she laid out all the ingredients.
“Omelets take too long—to cook and to eat.” She glanced archly at the clock. “I have plans for the three hours before the boys get home.”
For the second time that day, all the blood in his head rushed south. “Let me help you with those sandwiches.”
She laughed, a low, sexy sound he’d never heard from her before. He liked it. But then again, he was liking everything he found out about Sophie these days, even the stuff that had nothing to do with getting him laid.
As he spread mustard on a couple pieces of whole-grain bread, she reached back into the fridge and came out with a plate of homemade brownies. “From Melinda?” she asked archly, right before sinking her teeth into one. She moaned, then nodded. “Definitely from Melinda.”
“Is Melinda a short brunette with big eyes?” he asked, to keep the game going.
“No. That’s Jackie. Melinda is tall and gray-haired and I think the last time she smiled was sometime around the Reagan administration.”
“Oh. Well those definitely aren’t from her, then.”
“Sure, they are. Jackie can’t bake at all and certainly not like this. She must have conned Melinda into doing her dirty work.”
“Hey,” he said, stepping forward and taking a bite of the brownie she held. “I object to being referred to as anyone’s dirty work.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “Does that objection extend to me, as well?”
He grinned against her mouth, loving the sweet, chocolatey taste of her. “Well, that depends what kind of dirty work you have in mind.”
“The dirtiest.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her hands dropped to the waistband of his jeans and everything faded but his newfound need for her.
He stopped her before things went wild again, circling her wrists with his hands and gently pulling her away. “If you want something to eat, I suggest we focus on the sandwiches. Otherwise, I’m going to end up making love to you right here against these kitchen cabinets.”
Her breath started coming in choppy little bursts. “Sandwiches are highly overrated,” she told him breathlessly.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. The brownies filled me up. Just don’t tell Jackie about what became of her brownies or I’ll get kicked off the neighborhood phone tree. Southern women are vicious about their baked goods.”
“Is that so?”
“It is indeed.”
“Well, then, my lips are sealed.”
She grinned. “I really hope that’s not the case.” And then she stood up on tiptoes and pressed his mouth with her own.
As she’d teased him, Sophie’s cheeks had turned a pale pink color that drove him wild, and the second her lips met his, Jack took control of the kiss, turning it into something that was both tender and ravenous. He wanted her—he couldn’t believe how much he wanted her—and thou
gh he’d just had her, he felt, suddenly, like he could make love to her forever.
As her mouth met his, her tongue darting out to brush tentatively against his own, he told himself to take it slow this time. That they had all the time in the world. That there was no need to rush. The boys wouldn’t be home for hours and after what had happened last time, he owed it to her to make this time last for longer than ten seconds. To make sure it was good for her.
Pulling away, he led her down the hallway to his bedroom, and the bed he hadn’t bothered to make when he’d gotten up the day before. He laid her on the silky black sheets and then just looked at her for a minute, trying to etch every second, every memory, of this time deep into his brain so he could pull it out later and examine every nuance of it. Deep inside he knew that this thing between them wouldn’t last long, that it might not even last until he went back to For the Children, but despite all that, despite everything that their separate futures held, this time with her was going to become one of his favorite memories.
Stretching out beside her, he reveled in the feel of all that soft skin and wild, sexy hair as it brushed against his body. Sophie was all woman—lush and round and so soft and fragrant that just a look, just a touch, brought him right up to the edge of his control. And when she leaned forward, brushed his lips with hers, he hardened to the point of insanity.
“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he asked, cupping the back of her head to keep her lips against his.
“I think I’ve got a pretty good idea after our performance down in the foyer,” she answered, her tongue licking across his bottom lip.
“Don’t bet on it.” His hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer to him, so that he could delve inside her mouth like he so desperately wanted to.
* * *
SOPHIE NEARLY went into sensory overload when Jack’s mouth crushed against hers. It felt so good to be held by him, kissed by him—a part of her wanted to crawl into his lap and never, ever let him go.
Of course, she knew that wasn’t practical—despite how close she felt to him right now, despite the fact that he was the only man she could imagine giving up her long-held control to—she barely knew him. And what she did know of him did not lead her to believe that he was the happily ever after type.
