Twist the Knife - Page 136

Fuck. I want her mouth on mine. Her breasts mashed up against me. Visually, this is hot as fuck, but I suddenly need more. She’s building toward another orgasm when I pull out of her.

“Jigsaw?” she yelps.

I grab her around the waist and boost her onto the counter, dragging her to the edge and wedging my body between her spread thighs. I crash my lips against hers and swallow her moans of pleasure. She circles her arms around my neck and drags her fingers through my hair.

This angle sucks. The counter’s too high or she’s not close enough to the edge. Whatever the physics of it is, my knee keeps hitting something, throwing off my rhythm.

“Come here.” I lift her off the counter, impaling her.

“Oh!” she gasps and giggles, then wraps her legs around me. Using her hands on my shoulders for leverage, she starts working herself up and down.

“Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “You’re a natural at this.”

My frantic gaze ping-pongs around the apartment for a suitable surface. Can I make it into the bedroom?

Chair. It’s closest. Pants falling down my legs and Margot distracting me with her movements, I shuffle to the chair and gently lay her in it. I have to slip out of her for a moment. She threads her fingers through my hair and pulls me down for a kiss as I fill her again. In a hard, frenzied rush I pound into her. She lifts up, pressing her mouth to mine, opening so I can sweep my tongue against hers.

This woman has me absolutely turned inside out. The sounds of our bodies sliding together mingle with her breathy whimpers. She hooks her arm around my neck and whispers against my ear, “Your cock feels so fucking good filling me.”

Demons below, those filthy words coming from Margot set me off. I sink deep inside her, spilling into the condom. Completely spent, I rest my head on her chest. Her heartbeat’s wild against my ear. She threads her fingers through my hair and brushes kisses against my sweaty forehead.

If I’m not careful, I could get addicted to this.

Margot

After we peel ourselves out of the lounge chair, Jigsaw kicks off his jeans.

“Felt like I had a lot of things working against me there.” He lets out a wild bit of laughter and runs his hands through his hair.

“I couldn’t tell.” Everything we did was electrifying. Except maybe when he pulled me to the edge of the counter and we couldn’t make that angle work.

He decides to worry about doing his laundry later and we end up in my bed. I’m spent but restless.

Words I want to say bubble up, then pop. Questions I want to ask but shouldn’t.

He holds out his arm, inviting me closer. Tentatively, I inch my body next to his until our legs are touching. His skin’s so warm, his body so solid and brimming with life even though his eyelids droop as if he’s on the verge of sleep.

I rest my head on his chest. He runs his fingers over my hair. “I didn’t mess it up too bad, considering.” His voice and laughter rumble against my cheek.

He seems to be twirling locks of my hair around his finger. It’s soothing and I’m almost drifting into sleep when his chest ripples under me.

“You can knock kitchen counter sex and standing doggy off your list now, but I think you’re going to need a shorter guy for the counter sex.”

My heart stops. Shorter guy? List? I don’t want anyone else.

This is still nothing more than some casual lessons for him.

I sit up, fear beating a steady drum in my chest.

“What’s wrong?” Concern edges into his voice.

“I made a mistake.”

He sits up, resting his hand on my back. “About?”

“This.”

“It’s the feel-good chemicals from all the orgasms.” He rubs his hand over my back and kisses my shoulder. “Give me a few minutes and we can try some other positions.”