Page 57 of Jenna's Protector
She’s good—very good—every stroke is a deliberate act meant to tantalize, tease, and draw out every shiver and moan from my lips.
My gaze locks on her beautiful eyes, where a mischievous glint tells me she knows exactly what she’s doing.
Her lips part, and her tongue darts out as if she’s savoring the heat between us. The only sound filling the room is my ragged breathing as her talented touch turns the steady beat of my heart into a frenzied drumbeat of desire, need, and want.
Pressure builds within me. Incrementally, yet inevitable. A crescendo of delicious agony rises within me as her fingers dance along my cock. The slow drag across my flesh, the slight twisting of her hand, and her palm pressing against my length make me acutely aware of every point where our bodies connect.
The press of her thighs around my waist, the softness of her other hand as it rests against my hip, and the drag of her fingernails drive me wild.
She guides me toward an edge I’m more than willing to fall over. With each pass of her hand, pleasure ignites until it turns into something blinding and unstoppable.
Her grip becomes more urgent, as if she knows how close I am to breaking beneath her touch. I’d stop her and fuck her, except for one important thing. I find myself shamefully lacking in the tiny foil pouch department.
The first thing on the list after this is to purchase a box of condoms because I plan on being buried balls deep within her before day’s end.
But—for right now, there is nothing beyond the hitch in her breath and the magic of her hand.
I groan out her name like a prayer. I’m close. Close to unraveling and coming apart in her more than capable hands. Another moan escapes me, along with a prickling sensation at the base of my spine.
My balls draw up with the pleasure she bestows upon me. Myarms fly around her, steadying myself as my orgasm breaks and barrels down inside of me.
I crest into oblivion, a tidal wave of ecstasy crashing over and through me. White-hot cum spurts between us as my balls clench and release.
Once spent, Jenna wraps her arms around me, enveloping me in the warmth of her body. In the dizzying aftermath of my release, I float in a state of utter peace.
This moment redefines everything, ushering in the beginnings of intimacy savored without restraint. We break apart, breathing hard, our foreheads resting together.
Then, Jenna laughs.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think you’re burning the bacon.”
The acrid scent of bacon burned beyond repair hits my senses.
“Shit.”
TWENTY
Jenna
The scentof burning bacon jolts me back to reality. I pull away from Carter’s embrace, my lips still tingling from the intensity of our kiss.
His eyes snap open and the expression on his face turns into alarm.
“Oh no.” He turns toward the stove where thick, black smoke billows from the pan. “Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Carter springs into action, grabbing the handle and moving the pan off the heat. But it’s too late—the bacon is charred beyond recognition, a blackened mess fused to the bottom of the pan.
The eggs fare no better, the edges brown and crispy, the yolks cooked solid through.
“I owe you a pan. This one’s ruined.” Carter looks at the crispy, charred mess. “Sorry about that. In my defense, I was distracted.”
For a moment, we just stare at the ruined breakfast, and then, as if on cue, we burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe we got so carried away we forgot about the food.” My laughter has me leaning against the counter for support.
“I guess you could say things got a little—heated.” Carter’s eyessparkle with mirth, and something deeper, something naughty and delicious, sends a shiver down my spine.