“Oh God,” I moan against his lips. “JJ…”

Need washes through me like a flash flood, making my toes curl and my legs tense. My breasts ache, and I throb inside, clenching on empty. I need… need him. My body is on fire.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, pressing two fingers deep into me, his mouth moving to the corner of my mouth, then along my jaw and down my neck, leaving hot kisses and the sharp nip of his teeth.

I’m coming apart. The pressure is skyrocketing, my body tightening, tensing as he expertly takes me to the brink, fingers pumping, his thumb circling my clit, his mouth marking the juncture of my neck and shoulder—a counter beat of pain that plunges me without warning into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Biting my lip to keep quiet, I still can’t keep back a moan as the pressure reaches a breaking point, and I clench around his fingers, coming in long shudders, rocking against him.

On, and on, and on.

“Kitten… You okay?”

I hum an affirmative, unable to speak just yet. We stay like that, his face buried in my neck, me clutching at him, trying to come back to earth, shivers running down my spine. I’m fully seated on the counter by now, legs wrapped around his hips, and when he shifts again, uncomfortably, his massive hard-on pokes me where I’m still throbbing pleasantly.

“Oh God.” I bite my lip harder when he groans softly and rocks, rubbing his hardness over the soaked lace of my panties.

Suddenly the crazy orgasm I’ve just had isn’t enough. I need him inside me right now. I reach for the fly of his pants, and he pulls back a little, his eyes so dark they look black. When my fingers brush over his trapped erection, he jerks and grunts.

I grip the zipper. “What do you want—”

“You,” he says without hesitation and puts his hand over mine, shoving it down so that I unzip his fly. “How about you? What do you want, kitten?”

Bold, as I always am around him, I pull the zipper down all the way and slide my fingers into his pants. “This.”

But we both gasp, because—surprise, surprise—he’s going commando, and my hand finds the velvet skin of his hot, diamond-hard cock.

He’s panting harshly now, sweat making his brow gleam. We’re locked in a frozen time-frame, my hand wrapped around his hard-on, and he leaning with one hand on the counter, the other sliding up my arm.

A heartbeat passes. Then another, a vein beating on the underside of his cock fluttering against my palm. I rub my thumb up and down the soft skin, so deliciously stretched over a core of steel, and he whimpers as if he’s in pain.

“Embers,” he hisses, teeth gritted. “Can you just… Goddammit.”

I’m pulling his cock free of his pants, not an easy process. He’s big, and very hard. I end up undoing the button of his fly, opening his pants all the way.

He gives a heartfelt groan when I stroke him from root to tip, his eyes falling shut. I do it again, fascinating by the thickness of his shaft, the softness of the head, the wet spilling from the small slit, the small twitches it gives as I tug on it.

Fascinated by the sounds coming from Jesse with every stroke, the way his arm shakes and his hand clutches the back of my head like he has no control over his muscles. His jaw is slack, his lips parted. His eyes open when I tug on him harder. He lifts them to meet my gaze, but they are unfocused and heavy-lidded.

I trace the ridge behind the head of his cock, and his hips buck forward, a choked moan leaving his throat.

“Fuck…” He’s trembling, rocking into my hand. “No.”

And with that, he draws back, forcing me to let go, then grabs me under the thighs and lifts me up.

I squeal, totally unprepared for this sudden change. “What are you doing?”

“Hang on.”

That’s exactly what I do. I wrap myself around him like a starfish, only too aware of his hardness trapped between us, its heat seeping through my panties.

“JJ…”

“One sec.”

His hands hold me up like I weigh nothing. He turns, carrying me over to the kitchen table. Bending his knees, he settles me on it and sweeps off with one hand everything on it. Distantly I hear something crash to the floor—and then he’s pulling down my panties, spreading my legs and bending over me, the head of his cock kissing my entrance.

A long, hot, wet kiss, and my folds part under the insistent pressure, letting him in.

Oh my God. Holy crap. I cling on to him, my back arching over the table, as he slides home, inch by unbearably pleasurable inch. My eyes are falling close as my body shakes, an overdose, but I stubbornly keep them open, needing to see his face.

His dark brows are drawn together, a deep crease between them, and sweat clings to his long lashes in crystal drops as he holds himself still for an endless moment.

Then he draws back, his cock doing a slow drag against my inner walls, only to slam back in.

We both cry out. He lowers himself over me until his face is directly over mine. He captures my mouth, kissing me hard, while he does the withdrawing-and-thrusting-back-inside thing. Again. And again.

He fills me up, possesses me like no one else has. His hard cock inside me burns, stretching me as far as I can go, but it’s good. So good I want to cry. Pleasure of this magnitude should be illegal. A boy so sexy should be outlawed.

A boy so kind.

But he breaks the kiss, lifts up on his hand, doing a reverse push up, thrusting a little bit deeper, a little bit better—and the fleeting thought is swept away in the torrent of pleasure as my body convulses. My core closes in around his cock, tightening like a steel coil, cutting off my breath.

He grimaces, his movements growing faster, frantic. He swells inside me and he lets out a pained groan, his mouth falls open…

Stars burst behind my eye lids—I didn’t realize they’d fallen shut—and I manage to whisper his name before I shatter into a million pieces.

***

“Hey, kitten.” He’s in the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes bright, a small smirk on his lips. He crooks a finger at me. “Come here.”

“We’re late.” I fuss with my dress. Crazy that we never got undressed. The shiny fabric falls flawlessly over my hips and thighs. No sign that he pushed it up and made me come on the kitchen counter, then fucked me on the table.

Oh God, that was…

“Embers.” He catches me in two strides, throwing the towel on the rack, and cups my face in both his hands. “Look at me.”

“Why?” I have no choice by to lift my eyes to his, and I tumble into their depths—a starburst of moss green against smoky gray with flecks of gold. It’s dizzying, so I place my hands on his hips to steady myself.

“Because.” He leans in and drops a soft kiss on my mouth. So warm. So unbearably sweet and full of promises of tenderness that a knot forms in my throat.

“Now you’ll tell me you’ve never done this before, either,” I whisper, my voice rough. Because I sure as hell haven’t, and it makes me nervous. I’m falling deeper and deeper for him. “And I…”

“I haven’t,” he says, his hands shifting on my cheeks, cradling my jaw, his gaze clear and honest. “Any of this. And certainly not this.” He bestows one more kiss on my lips, the briefest caress, and there comes that faint smile no one can fake. Boyish, innocent, full of happiness.

Shooting me straight through the heart.

We’re late for the wedding, but right now I don’t care. I smile back and we just hold on to each other.

Could he be serious about this? About wanting to be with me? Give up on one-night stands, stop hooking up with the hordes of girls lusting after him? How can I believe a sex god like Jesse Lee will keep his word?

Has he even given me his word?

Does it matter?

“You’re trembling,” he whispers, and he pulls me to him, crushes me to the wall of his muscular chest. His heart thuds steadily against my ear. “Are you okay? Is it because of wedding reception?”