She shakes her head once, all that red hair strewn across my pillow. “I told you, I can’t come.”

“I think you’re trying too hard.” I dip down to press my lips to the top of her pussy. “Tell me what you like, Jade,” I murmur against her. “Do you like it when I do this?” I lick her clit, flick it with the tip of my tongue and she closes her eyes, an agonized groan sounding from deep in her chest.

I’ll take that as a yes.

“Open your eyes,” I demand and they flash open, staring at me. Her cheeks are pink, her lips damp. She’s fucking gorgeous and I want her to watch me do this to her. Maybe watching will help get her there faster. Hmm, maybe using particular words will get her there faster too. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

She bites her lip and nods, her gaze never leaving mine.

I remove my right hand from her perfect ass and streak my fingers across her pussy, then slide my index finger deep inside her. Fuck, she’s tight. And hot. All that velvety skin clasps around my finger like it doesn’t want to let go as I start to move. Her eyelids waver when she sucks in a sharp breath.

“Keep watching me,” I practically growl against her and her eyes go wider. My gaze is locked with hers as I start to lick her, swirling my tongue around her clit, drawing it back into my mouth to give it a gentle suck. Her hips shift and I add another finger, shallowly pumping, curling them inside her so I hit that particular spot that drives a woman wild.

“Oh my God,” she gasps when I hit my mark. So I rub it once more, lingering over the spot, satisfaction rushing through me when she thrusts her hips, practically grinding her pussy against my mouth. “Right there, right there, right there,” she chants mindlessly and I give it to her right there, right where she wants it, sucking her clit, fingering her pussy, until she literally screams my name and falls apart.

As in, she falls completely apart. Her entire body shakes with the force of her orgasm, her inner walls grip my fingers in an orgasmic rhythm and her clit throbs beneath my tongue.

Yep. Mission orgasm completion accomplished.

Oh. My. God.

I can’t even.

Oh.

My.

God.

Seriously, did that just happen? Did Shep really just make me come? And did I really just scream his name? I’ve never screamed anyone’s name before. Ever. I don’t scream. I also don’t have orgasms, at least with a guy. Even when I give myself one, it’s never like—that.

No way. Not like that at all. Not even close.

I’m quivering. My entire body feels like a bowl of Jell-O. The throb between my legs is like whoa and my head is spinning.

Spinning.

God help me, his perfect, orgasm-inducing mouth is still on my extra sensitive, twitching flesh and I settle a hand on his head, threading my fingers through his soft hair. I can hardly take it and I’m desperate to push him away. Unfortunately—or fortunately, depends on how you look at it—he still has a firm grip on my butt, meaning that I’m pressed up against his face like it’s no big deal and this is a huge deal. A huge, crazy deal because holy shit, I just came and it was the most momentous occasion of my life.

He’s nuzzling me between my legs and I finally work up the strength to carefully shove his head away from me and he gets the hint. I’m almost embarrassed to look at him, especially when I catch sight of the smug expression on his face.

Oh yeah, he looks proud. I’m sure he’s just thrilled he proved me wrong.

“So,” he starts nonchalantly as he moves up to lie beside me. “Was that good for you?”

I turn to look at him, realizing that he’s still fully dressed while I’m pretty much naked. “I don’t think you need to ask that,” I mumble, embarrassed.

Shep reaches out and touches my cheek, his fingers light on my skin. “You’re right. I’m fairly certain that I made you come. Hard.”

I stare at him. Rear back a little when he leans in and drops a kiss on my lips. Then another. I can taste myself on him and I should be freaked out. Or the slightest bit disgusted…right?

But I’m not. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in closer, molding my body to his hard form, letting my mouth linger on his for a long, delicious moment. “You’re wearing too much clothing,” I murmur against his lips.

“Take them off me then,” he murmurs back, nipping my lower lip with his teeth.

Resting my palms on his chest, I give him a shove so he rolls over on his back. I tug his T-shirt up, revealing his mouthwatering abs and I lean down, running my lips over his hot skin. The muscles tense beneath my mouth and I rest my hands on his belt buckle, slowly pulling the leather strap out as I start to undo it.

“You never did tell me,” he says. I glance up at him to see he’s watching me, his lips curled into an arrogant smile, his arms folded behind his head, as if he has all the time in the world. “You did come, didn’t you Jade?”

I grab hold of his belt and pull it from his jeans, letting it drop to the floor with a clank. “What do you think?”

His smile grows. “I’m guessing with the way you screamed my name, that would be a yes.”

“I didn’t scream your name,” I mutter, curling my fingers around the waistband of his jeans before I get busy undoing the snap and sliding down his zipper. I’m such a liar. I so shouted his name. My mind goes back to the time we talked on the bed at his frat, after I hurt my ankle. When I told him it wouldn’t be sexy to yell his name in the so-called throes of passion.

God, what a dork I’d been, saying that to him.

Having his mouth on me, his fingers inside me, when he stroked that particular spot deep within, I’d reacted like I had no control over my body. I’d never felt like that before. He has magic hands. Oh, and a magic mouth and tongue. Just thinking about what he did to me makes me shiver all over again.

So, of course I’d yelled his name. His sexy, ridiculous name, though somehow, it fits him. He’s sort of ridiculous—but in the best possible way.

“You most definitely did.” He hisses in a breath when I spread his jeans open and streak my fingers down the length of his erection. It strains against the fabric of his black boxer briefs, thick and long, reminding me of when I gave him the blowjob and how much he enjoyed it.

Right before he ran.

I push that unpleasant memory out of my brain and focus on the task at hand.

“Come here,” he whispers just as I’m about to tug off his underwear. He reaches for me, gathers me up in his arms, pulls me up so I’m sprawled on top of him, my aching center rubbing his rigid erection. I squirm against him, a shuddering breath escaping me at the delicious friction that sparks between us and then he’s rolling me over so I’m beneath him, my back flat on the mattress, my breaths coming hard and quick when he starts to kiss a path down the length of my body.

“This needs to come off,” he murmurs as he reaches behind me and deftly undoes the clasp on my bra. He helps me pull it off, baring me completely to his gaze and he leans back, taking me in, his eyes dark and totally unreadable.

I’m self-conscious. What else is new? I need to get over this. The way he looks at me, the things he says…I know he likes what he sees. Which is mind blowing, I can’t lie. I mean, this is Shep Prescott. He’s been with a bazillion women—at least that’s what people say. He’s a campus legend.

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