He swallowed, the sound amplified in the room, and then was moving his hands between our bodies and going for the button and fly of his jeans all the while kissing me like he was drowning and I was his life raft.
The kiss was sloppy, hectic, filled with passion, but I didn’t care how uncoordinated we both were as we started tearing at our clothing. I just wanted this moment with Jameson no matter what. My heart was in my throat, sweat beading between my breasts, and my anticipation and nervousness was so strong I felt dizzy from it all.
“I need you--”
“I want you--”
He groaned at my words. I moaned at his. And the way we were continuing to get the clothes out of the way that separated us.
I pulled back so I could get my shirt up and over my head. My gaze was locked on him as he did the same. Then my bra. I stood and shucked off my pants and underwear; Jameson doing the same, my mouth drying when the thick, long length of him was revealed.
Oh. God. He’s huge.
My nipples were so hard they ached.
He was masculine with hard lines, sharp edges, and defined muscle.
I opened my mouth to say something--anything--maybe beg for this, or sputter out unintelligible words. But before a word could leave my lips, he was on the couch and pulling me back down on his lap. I straddled him once more, his hand sliding up my chest, over my collarbone, and then he was curling his fingers around the side of my throat, keeping me in place as he kissed me hard and possessively.
His body was so hard where mine was soft, his groans deep where mine were feminine.
But we were both so damn aroused, the same intensity in our touches and kissing.
“Maybe we should slow down,” I found myself saying, then cursed because that was the last thing I wanted to do.
He pulled back, panting, his great, wide chest heaving. It was clear it took a hell of a lot of strength on his part to pull away. His eyes were on my mouth, his lips parted, his eyes hooded.
“Is that what you want?” he asked softly, his voice husky.
I shook my head. “Figured one of us should probably say it, you know, the voice of reason and all that.”
“Fuck reason,” he groaned, and slammed his mouth back down on mine.
Maybe this was a bad idea, but it didn’t feel wrong. It felt right and perfect and way overdue. I’d fantasized about doing just this with Jameson for so long that it almost seemed like I was dreaming, still locked in that fantasy.
I moaned at Jameson’s flavor, and just like his namesake, he was spicy and warm, filling me with a buzz that had my muscles aching and my pussy growing impossibly wetter.
He started gently lifting his hips up, grinding that massive length that stood straight up and proud against me, letting me know where he really wanted it.
“I never want you to stop,” I cried out as a shockwave of pleasure moved through me.
He purred.
There was no stopping this, but I didn’t want it to end. In fact, I wanted it to go even further, as far and as wide as humanly possible.
“Touch me,” he groaned against my mouth, the sound guttural, harsh, a demand like it was the only thing that would ease his pain. “Please, Lia. Christ, please touch me.”
My nipples tingled and my pussy clenched at how he said those words, begged and pleaded for me to ease his suffering. The ache I felt was something only Jameson could ease. I wanted him deep inside me, stretching me, taking my virginity, making the pain and pleasure coalesce as one.
Moving his mouth from my lips, along my cheek, and finally stopping by my ear, I listened to the harsh sound of his breath leaving him and bathing my ultra-sensitive skin. “I need your hands on me, baby.”
My eyes closed on their own and a shiver wracked my body, my emotions having me writhe against him. And then I found myself reaching between us, as if my hand had a mind of its own.
“Yes,” he hissed. “Fuck… yes. Do it. Touch me.”
I felt renewed power as I gripped that massive length between his thighs. Every part of me went tight then stilled when I felt his cock jerk in my hold.
“God,” he groaned and rested his head back on the cushion, his eyes nothing but mere slits of teal light. He kept watching me, his lips parted slightly as he breathed harshly. “I’m doing everything in my power not to come right now.”
I breathed out roughly as all I could feel was Jameson.
All I could smell, feel, hear, experience was this man right here in front of me.
All I wanted was Jameson. Now and always.
He moved a hand down my hip, along my lower back, and stopped when his fingertips brushed along the crease of my ass. I swore he held his breath. I know I did.
“I’m barely hanging on as it is, Lia.” His voice was so gruff, so deep. “I could get off by just holding you close, but coupled with your hand on my cock....” he groaned again.
I let the air leave me harshly, not able to hold it in.
My body was on fire, my pussy so saturated from my heat that I felt all that wetness sliding down my inner thighs.
And then I did wrap my hand around his erection, a gasp leaving me at finally holding him in my hand, the sheer size of him, his length, girth… the whole package so startling even though I’d seen it with my own eyes.
I may be inexperienced, but even I knew his size was well above average. Soooo above average.
“Yes,” he hissed when I tentatively stroked my hand up his length. “I’ve never had anyone touch me, Lia. Never done anything like this.”
My heart was thundering at his words. Could he mean what I thought? Was he saying he was---
“I’ve never been with anyone,” he finished my inner thoughts as if I’d spoken them out loud.
That had me stilling, my hand no longer moving up and down his length, my eyes opening wide, my heart momentarily stopping.
“Mood killer?” He grimaced and shifted on the couch, but a flush stole over me, heat settling into my core even more.
“I've never been with anyone either.” Those words spilled from me on a rush and he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and I heard this rumble leave his chest. “So no… not a mood killer. In fact, knowing you haven’t been with anyone either turns me on.”
He leaned forward and crushed me to him even more, his mouth back on my neck. I was starting to realize Jameson was a throat man for sure. He licked and sucked at my neck at the same time I started moving my palm up and down his length again.
“Fuck.” He groaned against my neck. His mouth was back on mine in an instant, his hands on my ass as he squeezed the mounds as if he couldn’t control himself.
And then in a move so fast I didn’t even have time to prepare for it, Jameson was off the couch with me in his arms. Instinctively I wrapped my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. He didn’t tell me where he was going, but it didn’t take a genius to know he was taking us to the bedroom.
And I'd never anticipated anything more.
Once in the room I was vaguely aware of Jameson shutting the door with his foot, the slam of that wood sealing us in seeming to barely pierce the fog of arousal drowning me in the best way.
“I want you. I need you so fucking bad.”
“Yes,” I found myself murmuring against his lips, then tilted my head and deepened the kiss, needing more… so much more. I wanted to be flat on the bed, wanted Jameson over me, his much bigger body covering me, pressing me down on that mattress. My mind was pleasantly fuzzy from the liquor, but even more so because of my desire.