Nicola Marsh – One Wicked Week (страница 8)

‘Who would’ve thought, a geek with tats, huh?’

She heard the vulnerability in his lowered voice and quashed the surge of protectiveness. She knew that feeling well, that soul-sapping uncertainty of being judged by appearance. It ate away at confidence and made you second-guess everything. She didn’t let the doubts creep in much these days but when they did, she hammered them into submission quick smart.

‘I love it.’

And she meant it. The contrast between the nerdy, dedicated student she remembered and his sexy counterpart now made her want him all the more.

‘Well, if you love this, wait till you see what else I have for you.’

His crooked grin made her chuckle and her heart leapt in anticipation as he unsnapped the button on his chinos.

‘Don’t tell me you tattooed that.’

He winced and pointed to his chest. ‘This hurt like the devil so that would be a resounding no.’

‘So you were boasting in general, huh?’

One eyebrow quirked in provocation. ‘You’ve seen it. Don’t you think I have a right to boast?’

‘Absolutely,’ she said, nodding so vigorously her neck cramped, enjoying that they’d reverted to sparring when he laughed again.

‘This is... I mean...you and me...’ He waved his hand between them and muttered, ‘Fuck. What I’m trying to say is, is sex usually this playful for you?’

A flush swept into her cheeks. She should lie. It wouldn’t bode well for him to discover he’d been her last six years ago. He’d know that she’d been a tad hung up over that night. Or, worse, think she was some kind of frigid freak.

But Jayda hated lies. Ever since she’d discovered the truth about her father and why he’d misappropriated funds from the charity she’d helped run, she abhorred untruths. If her dad had trusted her she could’ve seen he’d got the help he needed. Instead, her mother had joined him in the cover-up, not telling her anything until she’d discovered their treachery.

She understood the lengths to which her father had gone to deal with his unhappiness, stemming way back from Sasha’s death, but she’d been a teen at the time and she’d dealt with the mind-numbing grief of losing her sister, why couldn’t he as an adult? Why did he have to screw up so badly and affect everybody in the process?

‘Forget it, I shouldn’t have asked.’ He eyeballed her. ‘That look on your face says it all.’

Mortified that she’d let thoughts of her family problems intrude at a time like this, she shook her head. ‘Sorry, I was mulling whether to lie to you or tell the truth, and I’ve decided on the latter.’

She sighed. ‘No, sex isn’t playful for me, because I’ve only ever slept with two guys.’

She didn’t have to wait long for Brock to understand. The guy had topped their graduation class with a quick-fire intelligence that had once annoyed her when she had to study hard for every single grade.

‘You mean...’ Incredulity made him stare at her in wide-eyed shock.

She nodded. ‘Yep. That dickhead Deon who took my virginity on a bet, and you.’

He gaped, a deep groove burrowing between his brows. ‘But that means... I was the last...six years ago...fuck.’

This time he shook his head as if trying to clear it but she didn’t want to give him too much time to assimilate what the information she’d revealed actually meant.

‘I’ve been with other guys since, fooled around a bit, but not everyone gets to see this.’ She swept her hands over her body with a flourish. ‘This is too good to reveal to just anybody.’

Her exaggerated self-deprecation cleared his frown as she intended but he hadn’t lost the shell-shocked expression. He wanted to ask more, she could see it in his expressive eyes, so she did the one thing guaranteed to distract him.

Pushing into a sitting position, she grabbed the condoms from across her hip and tore off the first one. Placing it deliberately on the bed between them as a promise, she stood, and reached behind for her zip.

Her fingers fumbled as the moment arrived to reveal her body to him, but she had to do this. To prove to herself that she wasn’t that scared, vulnerable girl she’d been six years ago and to regain control of the situation.

Admitting the truth usurped some of her power and she needed to get it back, starting with disrobing for the last guy to see her semi-naked.

Thankfully lust replaced confusion in Brock’s stare as she eased the zip down and pushed the sleeves down her arms, taking the top of the dress with it.

Her skin pebbled in the cool air and she resisted the urge to rub her skin for warmth. Besides, the longer Brock stared at her, the more she heated from the inside out, his burning gaze creating a flush that started at her neck and swept downwards.

‘Fuck me,’ Brock muttered, as his hungry gaze zeroed in on her breasts and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

She always wore sexy lingerie because it empowered her. She might not feel attractive on the outside some days but knowing she wore risqué underwear leant her a swagger that would otherwise be missing. With Brock staring at her with blatant appreciation, she felt vindicated in wearing a black satin bra and matching panties dotted with tiny crimson lips.

‘You are so beautiful,’ he murmured, as she shimmied out of the dress and let it fall to the floor in a soft swoosh.

She stepped out of the dress and he was on her in an instant.

‘You have amazing tits,’ he murmured, running his hands over her shoulders, down her arms, before cupping her breasts in his hands.

‘Prove it—oh.’ She gasped as her taunt had the desired effect and his mouth fastened on a nipple through the satin.

She arched towards him and with a deft flick of his fingers he had the bra unhooked and his lips on her, feasting. Licking and sucking, nibbling and nipping, alternating between her nipples until her knees weakened.

He must’ve felt her wobble because he raised his head, his eyes so passion-hazed she wondered if he could actually see her, before he blinked. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face as his fingers toyed with her panties.

‘You taste even better than I remember.’

Jayda tried to come up with something witty in response but her brain wouldn’t function with his fingertips repeatedly grazing the sensitive skin on the tops of her thighs. He slid a finger under the elastic of her panties, plucking at it, over and over, teasing her, driving her mad with want.

‘Brock, please...’ she whispered, gritting her teeth against the urge to shove him onto the bed and ride him until dawn. The ache between her thighs had become unbearable and her panties were drenched. She didn’t need the foreplay, not after six long years. She needed him.

‘Please what?’ He hooked his thumb into one side of her panties and she groaned in relief.

‘Please fuck me.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.