She didn’t doubt it for a moment. But having a reputation to maintain, she raised a skeptical brow. "So far all I'm hearing is a lot of talk. For all I know, that is all I'm going to get." She shook her hair behind her shoulders and sang softly, "I—can't—get—no-oh. Sat—is—fact—shun."
The next thing she knew, she was buried beneath a hundred and eighty-five pounds of naked male.
"Boy, you have a mouth on you." Jon-Michael pushed up on his elbows to look down at her. "Maybe I oughtta find a better use for it."
She must have looked as interested as she felt, for he barked out a laugh. "Then again, maybe not. It would keep you quiet for awhile it's true, but then—"
"We would have to listen to you whimper and scream," she inserted smoothly.
The corner of his mouth crooked up but he didn’t reply as he used a fingertip to hook a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You know what our problem was downstairs?" he asked her softly. His lips touched her hairline, her eyebrows. He moved her hair aside and kissed the side of her throat.
She angled her jaw to give him more room. "What?"
"We moved too fast. I think we have to slow things down."
Jon-Michael was a man of his word. He fed her slow, deep kisses, trailed his fingers over every inch of her body, used his lips on parts of her she never dreamed could be so erogenous. He took his own sweet time about it, too. Heat coursed throughout Hayley's body, and her fingers curled to grip the bedspread on either side of her. With every brush of his fingers or his stubble-roughed jaw against her inner thighs, the spread of her legs widened. But he ignored the one place she most wanted touched.
"Oh, please," she finally begged. "Please." Her hips thrust high in an attempt to follow the hands that were sliding away as he rocked back on his heels between her feet. "Please-please Jon-Michael.”
Sweat beaded his hairline and rolled down his temples and throat, but he gritted his teeth and ignored her plea. He rolled her onto her stomach.
For several moments he massaged her back, settling her down. But soon his fingers started slipping over her sides, and with each firm upward knead her breasts rubbed against the spread. Hayley pushed up slightly and he reached under her to cup her breasts. He caught her nipples between his fingers and tugged, leaning forward to slide his erection between her legs. He rocked it back and forth along her slippery cleft.
"Oh, God, Jon-Mich..oh! God, please!"
He was tempted to simply pull her hips up and shove into her. But there was that long ago night he needed to make amends for, and he needed to be face to face with her when he did so, the better to see her every expression, to memorize her every emotion. He climbed off her and rolled from the bed.
Hayley turned over slowly and looked at him standing at the side of the bed staring back down at her. She whispered his name enquiringly.
"Come on, darlin’," he said gently extending his hand to her. "We're gonna take care of that itch for you now."
She let him pull her off the bed and stumbled after him. Her knees were weak, and she felt the beat of her heart in that swollen place deep inside her.
It was a hot, empty, aching feeling.
He crossed the room and sprawled onto an armless Bentwood rocker. He looked up at her. "It's not standing up, Hayley honey, but neither is it the missionary position. Will it do?"
"Sure," she said, but then merely stared down at him for a moment, her mind blank.
He drew her forward and maneuvered her until she stood astride him. "Ease yourself down on me," he instructed. "Take it as slow as you want. We have all day."
Bracing her hands on his hard shoulders, she lowered her hips until she felt the head of his erection probing at her opening. His hands settled on her hips, but he did not try to hurry her along and she reached between them to wrap her hand around the base of his penis and hold him steady as she lowered herself inch by cautious inch.
She was burningly aware of the satin-covered rigidity in the U formed by her thumb and index finger, of the fullness of his shaft forging a trail through slippery tissues that had not been delved in far too long. Then her hand was in the way and she removed it, giving one last, firm push. She found herself fully impaled, his spread thighs hard beneath her butt, his sex hot and inflexible, stretching high inside her. Cautiously, she inched her legs forward and gave a slight push-off with her toes to set the rocker moving. His penis withdrew halfway then plunged back in, and her eyelids flew wide. "Whoa!"
"Jeez-us Louise," Jon-Michael said in a gritty voice. "You are so. Damn. Tight." He planted his feet and took control of the rocking chair's rhythm, his hands on her butt easing her up his rigid shaft on the forward motion, then sliding her back down it as he rocked them back. He filled her, almost withdrew, then filled her again.
Over and over again.
The slow, inexorable stroking set up a friction she knew would send her burning out of control in no time. She clutched his shoulders, trying desperately to hold back the inevitable, to draw it out and make it last. But it was like trying to fight wildfire with a cheap plastic water pistol. Her eyelids grew heavy and her lips rounded as small, breathy “oh, oh, ohs” hiccuped up her throat. Each more audible than the last. Her head felt too heavy for her neck and dropped back.
Jon-Michael's fingers tightened on her ass and his voice growled in her ear. "God. Yes. That's it, darlin’, that's it. Come for me. You look so damn beautiful. Come for me."
"Jon-Michael?" Her eyes slit open to find him watching her. "It feels so good." She dug her fingers a little harder into the muscles of his shoulders. "You feel so good in me."
His hips lifted off the seat and his hands slammed her down on him with increasing force on each rock back. "Don't hold back on me, Hayles. I wanna watch you come. I want to see your face when I make you climax." He sucked her nipple into his mouth, his gaze trained on her face.
Her ragged panting turned to low moans and she squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating on sensations gaining force within her. "Please," she pleaded frantically, drawing her knees back to feel him reach a little deeper. "Oh, God, Johnny, please. Oh. My. Gawwwd." She began to convulse in his lap. “Jon-Michael!”
"Look at me," he demanded. Releasing her nipple, he shoved himself deep and held her in place with hard hands. "Look at me, Hayley."
She opened her eyes to stare into his. He growled hot, dark words.
And her orgasm, which she already believed the finest thing she had ever experienced, ramped into overdrive.
"Yes!" Jon-Michael went berserk, watching her, feeling the sweet weight of her, the hot slick clasp as contractions clamped firmly around him over and over again. His feet slammed to the floor, stopping the rocker in the rocked back position, and he held her hard against him while his hips thrust up off the seat in a fierce rhythm that pounded him deep inside of her. "I love you, Hayley," he panted. "Jesus, God, I love you, love you, love you." Then his teeth snapped together and he groaned deep in his throat, hips jerking spasmodically to the beat of his hot, pulsating release.
Hayley collapsed on his chest, her face buried in the contour of his neck, her legs extended limply and her arms flopped over his shoulders. He clasped her nape beneath the wild tangle of hair even as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, thumb hooking over her hipbone, his fingers splayed down her hip. Sweat glued them together and the bedroom loft reverberated with the harsh rasp of their labored breathing.