Page 13 of Stolen By the Hit Man

Chapter Thirteen

Jasmyn

He can do what he wants with me.

It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, I’ll take whatever he wants to give.

What Joaquin gives me is something that I can only describe as magical.

I circle my arms around his neck as he picks me up and then lays me on the bed. He hovers over me, and it feels like there’s nothing left of the world but him and me.

He kisses like he can’t get enough of my mouth, my throat, my shoulders.

When he takes fully half my sensitive breast in his mouth, I nearly come up off the mattress. Joaquin sweeps his tongue over my left nipple, making my body sing at the sensation. At the same time, his rough, sandpapery thumb works the right one into a hard bead once again.

It hardly seems possible to feel that arousal again so quickly, but the man builds me back up expertly.

And yet, I doubt he can make me come a second time so soon. “You don’t have to…it might not happen again…”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, this man’s reply is to pop my breast out of his mouth and repeat the same thing to the right one, switching his teasing fingers over to the left.

His jeans rub against my thighs as we move together, and it’s not lost on me that if we were both naked, he’d be inside me right now.

I must be leaving a trail on the front of his jeans. Strangely, I don’t care.

Even more strangely, Joaquin suddenly pins one of my arms above my head. The next thing I know, I feel his tongue sweeping over my armpit. He inhales deeply as he licks me there, letting out a strangled moan. It’s the most oddly erotic moment of my life.

“Fuck, you smell so good, Jasmyn.”

I have no doubt he means it.

He means everything he says.

“Can’t wait to taste that pussy.”

His eyes lock on mine as I hitch upward, letting him tug my underwear off. He lets me watch him inhale my scent off of them, and I know I’m blushing crimson.

“You are crazy and I love it,” I say, embarrassed that I used the L-word.

He seems unfazed. If anything, Joaquin’s eyes grow darker, more intense.

“I’m fucking nuts for you, Jasmyn.”

Holy hell. My stupid little heart is mush.

Those tender yet firm lips work their way down my sternum, blazing a heated trail of hungry kisses down my torso. He pauses at my lower belly. He sweeps his lips over the round curve there, growling. “Fucking obsessed,” I think he says.

The truth is, I hate being touched on my stomach, and I’ve smacked people away for less intimate contact in that exact spot. I don’t know what it is about Joaquin, but his attention there has me gushing.

I cup my own breast while my fingernails lightly brush over his hair.

I let out a long sigh as his mouth travels lower. His broad shoulders knock my thighs out of the way, and he’s there. He’s all over me, between me, under me, inside me. He seems to be made of pure need, and all of it directed at me.

How does he do all that to me with his mouth? His tongue!

It’s so good, I’m transported to another place. It’s so good, I’m already sad that it’s eventually going to stop.

And what happens then? What happens when we stop blocking out the world? What’s going to become of us?

“Joaquin,” I murmur as I run my fingers through his cropped hair, stroking the back of his head. “What happens next?”