“You’re mine,” she agreed, unbuttoning his shirt, “and you’re impossibly hot, Jacob Wayne. Did you know that?”
He smiled a little, that cautious curve of the lips that made her heart flutter. “I try. Since I know you like it, and all.”
“Oh—so you know what a mess you make of me.” She couldn’t stop her own smile, even as fire pulsed through her veins and his bare chest became visible, inch by inch.
“Yes, I know,” he said, reaching behind her to wrestle with the dress’s zipper. “You are beautifully obvious. Sometimes you look at me and I can see you thinking about screwing my brains out. You—” The zipper gave with a metallic whisper and he grinned that wolfish grin, sharp and anticipatory. “Oh, good. Now you can be naked.” He pushed the dress down, and when she stood before him completely bare, all the humor left his expression. Nothing remained but stark, explicit longing as he bit his lip and groaned. When he shoved a hand against his erection, Eve felt her clit ache for the want of him. She pressed her thighs together, shifted her hips, but it didn’t help.
She was wet and swollen and desperate for one thing only.
So she stopped taking her time and went for his belt.
Chapter Eighteen
Restraint forced Jacob to grab Eve’s wrist. Heart-pounding need begged him to relax and let her get the fuck on with it.
But if he let go now—when his body shook with the force of his lust, when his mind was teetering at a cliff’s edge—he couldn’t make this good for her. And he needed it to be good for her, as opposed to good for him, which would equal ten minutes of pounding her over the desk until he came so hard his brain fell out.
So he held her wrist, and met her eyes, and said, “Slow down, Sunshine.”
She cocked her head, curious. “Any particular reason?”
“Yes. I’m this close to bending you over, and your apparent enthusiasm isn’t helping.” Because she was just so—into him. So clearly, impossibly into him. Pupils blown like she was high, lips slick and swollen from kissing him, rubbing her body against his like a cat every chance she got. And fuck, what a body—taking her dress off had been a miscalculation, but in Jacob’s defense, he’d only ever seen her naked in the shadows. He’d had no idea that the sight of her fully illuminated—all softness and abundance and brown, velvet skin—would steal his higher cognitive function.
She flashed him a brilliant smile and said, “Maybe you should bend me over. Right now.”
Biting back a moan, Jacob pressed her hand crudely against his erection. “I’m not just shoving this inside you, Eve. No, don’t whine. Bad. That would be bad. Foreplay,” he repeated. He’d meant to let go of her once he’d made his point, but instead, he was still holding her hand against his cock. Pressing her down, really, and jerking his hips up, seduced by that sweet pressure. Shit. Stop it.
“At least let me take these off,” she murmured, tugging at the belt loop of his jeans. Looking up at him with those beautiful eyes and that wicked smile and oh, fuck—
“Fine,” he said, “fine, fine, fine,” and then they were both fumbling with his belt and his fly, Jacob one-handed but twice as desperate, and before he knew it, he was sat there bollock naked on his desk.
He remembered the day he’d bought this desk and kind of wanted to smirk, because if someone had told him, Hi, I’m from the future, and one day you’re going to let a brilliant, ridiculous woman reduce you to a shaking puddle of lust on this thing, he would’ve rolled his eyes and moved away from the hidden cameras.
Eve raised a hand to cradle his face, her thumb tracing the curve of his lower lip. “What are you smiling about?”
“You,” he replied honestly, and turned his head to kiss her palm.
She smiled back. And for a moment, despite the electric rope of lust crackling from the head of his cock down to his aching balls, the air between them felt innocent and unbelievably sweet.
“Can you keep your glasses on this time?” she asked softly.
“Is this the part where you confess your spectacle fetish?”
Eve laughed and pushed the length of her hair over one shoulder. Jacob’s gaze followed the fall of lavender automatically. He watched fine braids glide over her nipple, cascade past her ribs, caress the deep bronze stretch marks at her hips. “Actually,” she said, “I just want to make sure you see everything.”
“Understandable,” Jacob rasped, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “There’s a lot to see. Cracking view. Wouldn’t want to miss it.”
“Mmm,” she murmured, her own gaze dipping to his lap. “I agree.”
Jacob looked down, too, and flushed at the sight of himself. He knew how hard he was—he could feel it in his fucking skull, at this point—but seeing the evidence was altogether different. Or at least, it was when Eve ran a delicate finger from the fat, glossy head to the thick root, tracing his veins like they were a map. “Can I have this now,” she asked, “or do I have to seduce you some more?”
His chest heaved with each sharp, Eve-scented breath. “Sit down,” he managed, “and let me lick you again.”
“After,” she said. “Fuck me hard and kiss it better.”
His head fell back, his abs contracted, his dick jumped under her touch. “Eve.”
“I know you like being convinced.” She slid her hands over his shoulders, then clambered up onto the desk, straddling his lap. Jacob wasn’t entirely sure how he kept breathing. He watched her pretty mouth move, but for a moment he couldn’t hear a damn thing over the rush of blood in his ears.
Between them, her hot, wet pussy was spread by the length of his shaft. Her thick thighs cradled his hips, and all he could do was lean back against the desk with one hand and take it. Take her. Or rather, let her take him. She rolled her hips and his eyes rolled back in his head. Scalding, silky torture, gliding over his hypersensitive skin. Fuck. “Fuck.”
“Happily,” she said, and picked up the condom she’d placed on the edge of the desk.
He knew then that he’d be balls-deep in her within ten minutes—but he decided to keep arguing anyway. This was what they did, after all: they argued, and it was good. “There is such a thing,” he gritted out, “as dicks that are too big.” Which was true. He’d researched extensively during his teens and concluded that if he wanted any form of penetrative sex, which he most certainly did, he’d have to be very careful about it. So, yes, there was definitely such a thing as dicks that were too big—too big to be convenient, anyway.
Eve apparently agreed, because she nodded eagerly. “I know,” she said. “I like them.”
And now he was remembering that night—the night he’d fucked her senseless with a twelve-inch purple cock and she’d begged him for more. Memory Eve and actual Eve pressed in on him from all directions. He sucked in a breath, looked down, and swallowed hard at the sight of them together: of Eve’s plump folds spread open around his rigid prick; of her sweet little clit, glossy and fat; of her rounded belly and bare skin screaming louder than anything else: intimacy.
He had her. He had her, and honestly, he’d do whatever the fuck she wanted because she had him, too.