Page 108 of Rock Bottom Girl

I’d had half a beer, but my head swam as if an entire bottle of tequila had found its way into my bloodstream.Thisis what Jake Weston did to a woman. And he was doing it to me. Finally.

Without breaking our hold on each other, we fumbled through the tree line that skirted Chaz’s pasture, tripping and stumbling back to Jake’s SUV.

And when his hands slid under my sweater and cupped my breasts through my bra, I knew we weren’t making it home.

Still kissing him, still making needy little groans, I wrestled the back door open.

“Are you kidding me right now, Mars?” he asked, his teeth nipping at my earlobe.

“Do you want to wait until we get back to your place when I’ve had a whole car ride to come to my senses?” I asked, scooting onto the back seat.

“No. No, I do not,” he said, jumping in behind me. “Take off your shoes.”

“Huh?”

“Shoes, Mars. Lose ’em,” he said, shrugging out of his coat and dragging his shirt over his head. Oh, Lord. The ink. The muscle. The chest hair.

Jake Weston was all man. And, for tonight, he was all mine.

I kicked off my boots, and then his nimble fingers went to work at the fly of my jeans. Hypnotized, I watched his hands as they competently worked my pants down. I lifted my hips to help while he wrangled them past my knees and stripped them off completely.

“Turn around, Mars,” he said. His voice was ragged like a gravel road. “Hands and knees.”

That would put my ass in his face. I didn’t usually like to shove my very round, rather full posterior in men’s faces.

“Why?” I asked. I sounded like I’d just run up the practice field steps sixteen times.

“I gotta do something, baby. I’ve been dying to.”

The vagueness of his statement should have resulted in a color guard of red flags. But the lust zinging through my blood like a drug made me stupid.

I did what he said. Before I could worry about what he was seeing up close, he was yanking my simple cotton briefs down and then—

“Did you just bite me?” I yelped.

His teeth weredefinitelyon my ass.

He groaned without releasing my flesh from his mouth. I felt him suck and lick hard enough that I cried out. It feltgood. Wrong and delicious and wonderful.

Then he was kissing the abused inch of flesh. “I’ve been thinking about doing that since I threw you over my shoulder. I wanted it to be my knee,” he rasped.

Could I orgasm just from his voice? Low, guttural, dirty. Okay. No. But still.

He licked over the spot he’d bitten and, at the same time, shoved two fingers into me without warning. “Oh, fuck me, Mars,” he breathed, pumping his fingers into me. “Jesus, baby. You are so fucking ready.”

I would have answered, but I’d smashed my face against the window. Letting it cool my skin. I bucked against him. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that my body had the capacity to feel all this. I’d held on to a library of rote fantasies that I dutifully used to orgasm during sex. But this? With Jake? I couldn’t hold a thought in my head other than, “Oh, God, yes!”

He worked me mercilessly, and I heard him lower his zipper.

Masterful womanizer that he was, Jake released his cock from the confines of his jeans one handed while his other hand busily destroyed me. He levered up on the seat situating himself behind me. And then I felt the drag of the smooth head of his dick on my ass cheek. It was wet.

He was grunting softly, and I imagined him stroking himself with one big, hard hand while using his other to drive me fucking insane.

I needed to see. I needed to watch him jerk himself off to me. That would be the new permanent installation in the Marley Cicero Spank Bank Hall of Fame.

My muscles quivered around his talented digits, and I realized I was seconds away from death by orgasm. I was on my hands and knees. Nothing had so much as grazed my clitoris. My boobs were still covered. He was a maestro of the female orgasm. And he was using his powers for good tonight.

“Baby, you’re so close,” he groaned. “Don’t you fucking come.”