Page 59 of Pursuing Desire

“What are you doing?” she asks, though she knows exactly what I’m doing.

She doesn’t make a move to stop me, so I continue working my way up. “I just want to see if your breasts are as perfect as I remember them. I didn’t give them nearly enough attention the first time around.”

The silk around her shoulders comes cascading down to settle around her waist. The first time with her, I was in such a state of mind-bending lust that I didn’t get a chance to look at her. My greedy gaze takes in her curvaceous hips, smooth stomach, and toned legs. Her petite breasts are perfectly sized for my eagerly waiting hands. Her fingers are absently kneading my chest, and she seems unaware that her hips are rocking against me.

Like a magnetic force, my fingers are drawn to the delicate skin of her areola. I brush the back of my knuckles against her nipples, and they pucker and harden enticingly. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to form thoughts and words the more I notice the heat coming from the lower part of her body.

“I never agreed to have sex again. So, I’m not sure why your dick is poking me. You need to get control of that thing.”

“You’re grinding against me, and you don’t know why I’m hard?”

“I’m not grinding!” she says in a pert voice.

My hands are still on her hips. I apply gentle pressure against her to increase her rocking motion. At the same time, I move my hips against her.

If she thought I was hard before, she’s in for a real surprise. Laying here, with her on top of me, has been the best kind of torture. I’ve enjoyed it, but now I’m ready to enjoy her.

“I’m giving you about twenty seconds to get that pretty, hot, little pussy off of me. After that, I’m not responsible for what happens.”

She puffs out her chest, and with it, her breasts bounce up enticingly. “Oh, yeah. What are you going to do to me, Dax?”

“Fifteen seconds left,” I warn. “What am I going to do? You know what I’m going to do. I’m going to move those minuscule silk shorts to the side, and I’m going to fuck you so hard.”

She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it. She shakes her head, and acute disappointment hits when I realize she’s going to leave.

But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she leans in and grabs my shoulders. She moves her hips and grinds into me. She grips my shoulders tighter and grinds again.

“No, Dax. You’ve got it all wrong. You took the lead last time. If we’re going to do this, whatever this is, it’s going to be my way. This time, I’ll be the one fucking you.”

I can only stare at her. I think I’ve died and gone to . . . no, I’m very much alive.

And so ready for this.

Chapter 13

Jess

The bed is still warm from where Dax slept beside me. While he’s off getting us breakfast, I’m lying here wondering how I survived last night.

I’m sore all over, deliciously so. I feel like I just had a vigorous ten-hour workout. If Dax and I ever had a real relationship, I wouldn’t need to go to the gym. A thirty-minute session with him is better than any aerobics class I’ve taken.

Good God, that man has the moves. He joked around about me being insatiable, but he’s the one who couldn’t seem to get enough. He had me in positions I never thought possible. There was a point last night when I practically begged him for a break.

Then he made me come again.

I know I’m the worst kind of person for agreeing to be his temporary girlfriend. No, I’m not a girlfriend. I’m a fuckfriend. At least I know what I’m getting myself into this time. He’s been upfront about what we’re doing. After my last failed relationship, I should be grateful I can have fun without all the other bullshit.

I don’t need romance.

I don’t need love.

I just need a good old-fashioned roll in the hay. It doesn’t hurt that my new fuckfriend is about as hot as they come. He already has me forgetting about Anthony.

At the thought of my asshole ex-fiancé, I slide a perturbed look over to my phone. I probably should call Anthony back. He’s left several messages, and I have the feeling he’s not going to quit until I call him.

I pick up my phone, and sure enough, I have messages waiting. Reluctantly, I listen to my voicemail, cringing as the first message starts playing.

“Jess, I miss you,” says Anthony’s saccharine sweet voice. “I wish you’d call me so we can talk this out. It’s been weeks. Haven’t you punished me enough? Call me. Anytime. I’ll be waiting.”