Riding the Storm - Brenda Jackson [25]
Five
S torm drew in a long breath as he looked down at the woman asleep in his arms. His chest tightened and he forced back the surge of desire that swept through him. She was an unbelievably beautiful woman.
Bathed in the rays of predawn light that spilled through the hotel’s window, Jayla’s hair, a glossy medium brown with strands of golden highlight, was spread across the pillow and shone luxuriously against the darkness of her creamy skin.
Sharing a bed with her hadn’t been easy. In fact, he doubted that he’d gotten any sleep. While trying to find that perfect sleeping position, she had twisted and turned most of the night. And he had been tormented with each and every move she’d made. At one time, she had lain facing him, with her leg thrown over his, with his arousal pressing against her center.
Then there had been that time when she had shifted around, placing her back to his chest, her sweet delectable backside right smack up against his groin. More than once during the course of the night he had been tempted to just say, “To hell with it,” and ease inside of her. His mind had been filled with numerous possibilities. Instead, he had fought the urge and had wrapped his arms around her waist, pulled her close and thought about the time when he had been inside of her.
He would never forget how it felt, the moment he’d realized that she was a virgin. At first he’d been shocked, stunned and then panic had set in. But the notion of ending their lovemaking session had fled his mind when she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with a hunger that he had quickly reciprocated.
And now he wanted her again. If truth were told, he hadn’t stopped wanting her but had held back to give her body time to adjust to him. Now he was driven with an undeniable need to bury himself deep within her welcoming warmth again. He glanced over at the clock. It was just past six. He wanted to let her sleep but couldn’t. He had to have her. Now.
He leaned over, close to her lips. “Jayla?” he whispered. A few moments later, she purred his name and slowly lifted one drowsy eye. Then she opened the other eye and blinked, as if to bring his face into focus.
“Storm,” she murmured in a voice that was muffled with sleep, but to his way of thinking sounded sensuous as hell. Little tendrils of hair had drifted onto her face and graced one of her cheeks. He pushed the hair back from her face before sliding that same hand down the length of her body. Shifting slightly, he wanted her to feel his arousal pressing against the curve of her pelvis.
“I want you,” he whispered and wondered if she could hear the urgency in his tone. The need. The desperation. She must have because she inched her lips closer to his for him to take control of her mouth, mate with it.
And he did.
His every muscle, his every nerve, felt sensitized as their tongues tangled with a hunger that was driving him crazy. The sweet, honeyed taste of her consumed his mind, sent a flame through his body and made him quickly lose touch with reality.
“Storm,” she said softly, breaking off their kiss as her hands reached down, tentatively searching for him. When she captured him in the warmth of her hands, he thought he had died and gone to heaven. “I want this.”
He definitely knew what she was asking for and didn’t waste any time rolling her beneath him. He reached down and touched her, finding her hot, wet and ready. Lowering his head he needed to taste her breasts and drew one hardened nipple into his mouth, gently pulling it with his tongue, glorying in the shivers he felt going through her.
And then with her hands still holding him, she placed him at her opening and, slanting her hips upward, began easing him inside her. At this stage of the game, his arousal didn’t know the meaning of slow and he pushed deep inside, finding her body still tight, but not as tight as it had been the night before. He stopped to give her time to adjust to him, but her soft moans and the rotation of her hips let him know she didn’t want him to stop.
He thrust harder, buried