This moment. This woman. It’s what I need. She is what I need.

Part Two



I all but tear off Crystal’s blouse, ready to have her naked, to be inside her. Impatiently, I shove down her bra, exposing her pretty pink nipples, stroking them with my thumbs. She moans and I feel that sound in the thickening of my cock, the heating of my blood. I caress her skirt up and over the lace of her thigh-highs, spreading her legs and ripping away her panties.

She gasps, her hands pressing to my shoulders with a reprimand. “I liked that pair, damn it. That’s twice you’ve done that to me. Stop it.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” I promise, settling my hips snugly between her thighs, my tongue lapping at her nipple, teasing it to a stiff peak. “I’ll buy you a hundred pairs.” I reach beneath her and work to free the clasp to her bra at her back, ready to be rid of anything that stands between her body and mine. I pull it down and away from her, cupping her breasts in my hands.

She, in turn, cups my face in her hands, leveling me in a stare. “I’ll buy my own,” she says, and the message in that declaration is clearly not about her panties. It’s about independence, about her unwillingness to belong to me. While I should revel in the freedom this gives me, some part of me rebels.

I answer her with a kiss, a hot, possessive claiming that says she is mine, right here, in “our moment” as she’d called it, and there is nothing else. She knows, too. I feel the way she stiffens, the way her fingers lift from my shoulders, but her palms stay. As if she can’t force her hands away from me, but her mind is screaming she should. Her resistance is fleeting, and with a low moan, she wraps her arms around my neck and clings to me. Her fingers find my hair, a soft touch that is enticing and erotic and when her leg wraps mine, hips lifting, pelvis pressing into my thick erection, the rise of desire in me is swift and intense. Everything else fades but her, and how she tastes and feels. I’m suddenly hotter, harder, out of my mind with need for this woman the same way I had been the night we were together in the club. This is not who I am, but I don’t care. This is exactly what she’d said—a moment in time when what’s normally wrong is right.

It’s all I can do to tear my mouth from hers to undress, and I intend to stand but only make it to my knees and she follows me, rising to hers as well. I pause, my gaze raking over her high, full breasts, fingers tugging on her nipples. She moans, biting her lip, and damn, I want to bite it, too. Tentatively, her delicate little fingers find my tie, and the very fact that I’m not grabbing it and using it to tie her up is a statement about where my head is, and that is nowhere familiar. She starts unbuttoning my shirt and I reach forward and unzip her skirt. A frenzied rush of movement follows as we both undress.

We’re quickly naked in that heated rush, and I stand above her where she sits on the couch, the thick jut of my erection between us, a condom in my hand. She closes one hand around the package, the other wrapping my shaft. Her heavy lidded stare meets mine, desire radiating from its depths, and she leans forward, delivering a seductive lick to the head of my cock, followed by a tantalizingly sensual swirl around the width. The sensation that follows rocks my body. It’s delicious. She’s delicious, but there is a coldness in my mind and body, an awakening that I don’t want to feel. A feeling that that I didn’t have when she was pressed close to me. I do not know what to make of that feeling, when avoiding that kind of intimacy has been a hard and fast rule for me. A way to ensure I do not foolishly expose weakness by falling for the façade of love and romance

She tears open the condom but doesn’t put it on me, instead drawing me into her mouth with a gentle suction that has me thickening, but there is simply no escaping the growing iciness in my body and mind that defies the heat in my blood, the fact that I want her close to me, next to me, touching me everywhere, anywhere. That’s when my mind shuts down. That’s when I’m free from the hell clawing at my chest.

My fingers close on her shoulders, holding her back before I lose myself in the primitive need that is orgasm. “Not now,” I command, leaving no room for negotiation. “Later.” Confusion flashes on her face, then is quickly banked. Before reassuring her that she pleases me, I first attend to the necessities, claiming the condom and rolling it down the thickness of my erection. Then, and only then, when I am safe to fully act on my words, do I pull her to her feet and against me. “I want you wet and hot and tight around me when I come.”

The rigidity of her body softens instantly, and she breathes out, “Yes,” as her hand flattens on my chest.

I tangle my fingers in her hair, craving a taste of her. I drag her mouth to mine, though kissing, like uncontrolled, untamed touching, is an intimacy that I rarely indulge. But I indulge now, claiming her mouth while one of my hands cups her backside. I lift her from the ground, and she reads my silent command, obediently wrapping her legs around my waist.

I let go of her hair, both hands splayed on the soft, naked expanse of her slender back. “Hold onto my neck,” I order, impatiently shifting our bodies and sliding my cock inside the slick, wet heat of her sex, pushing into her. Then I grit my teeth as she slowly eases down my length until she has all of me.

Our mouths are close, our breathing playing together in a soft even harmony, and what passes between us without words, without even looking at each other, is more unfamiliar ground. It crawls inside me, burrowing deep, raw and brutally demanding, cutting through my walls, ignoring my rejection of all that makes me feel things that I don’t want to understand. Ready to feel the sway of our bodies, I inch back enough to let her see my gaze rake over her naked breasts, her tight little nipples. But I make sure my gaze is locked with hers when I lift her and pull her down against me, savoring the way she gasps for me, the way she arches forward in a full body reaction. I shift us, my hands sliding under her backside, thrusting deeper, and she pants this time, her fingers digging into my shoulders, fingernails pressing into my skin in sweet, blissful cuts.

Tags: Lisa Renee Jones Inside Out Romance