Free Falling, Freestyle by Vivian Arend Page A

He’d always been her protector. Last night had taken the level of trust she had in him to a new level. Being restrained had been wicked-hot, made so much better by the knowledge she had absolutely nothing to fear. Not with Jack guarding even as he guided her through the experience. She hadn’t realized how much giving control over to another person would turn her on. Reading about it in her books was nothing compared to the reality.
    She could get to like it. A lot.
    Jack twisted them slightly, resting on his side, pulling his knee up while keeping her leg draped over his. The position opened her, the bottom edge of the oversized T-shirt she wore as a sleep shirt sliding toward her waist. The soft brush of his fingers over her hip and the swell of her butt sent a shiver up her spine.
    He kissed along her jaw, over her cheek and up to her ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to know how you taste,” he whispered.
    His hand continued to glide in slow even circles on her body, never moving any closer to her core. Dara threaded her fingers into his hair and pulled their mouths together, licking at his lips even as she opened her legs invitingly.
    Jack laughed softly against her mouth. “You’re a demanding little creature, aren’t you?”
    “Hmm, sometimes.”
    “Me too.” He leaned back, putting space between their upper bodies. “Place your hand on my chest.”
    His whole tone changed. It wasn’t cruel or harsh, but it was definitely an order. She dragged her fingers down his throat until she felt the muscular ridges of his chest. Her palm absorbed the heat radiating out from his bare skin. She traced small circles on his skin, relishing the opportunity to explore him so intimately.
    His gaze trapped hers. “Don’t move.”
    Dara smiled and pressed her open hand to his skin and froze it there. He stared into her eyes, observing, evaluating. Her pulse kicked up a notch as the endless circles he’d been making on her hip changed and he slid his fingers under the edge of her panties. It was the work of a moment to tug them to the side. A finger parted her already wet curls—just being with him had made her needy. Made her ready, and when he slid two fingers deep into her sex, she moaned aloud.
    All motion stopped.
    His voice whispered tantalizingly over her skin. “I’m sorry. I forgot to warn you. No noises either. Understand?”
    She blinked and squeezed her lips together.
    “Good girl.” He slid his fingers in and out a few times, nicking her clitoris with his thumb on every thrust. Dara concentrated hard to remain still, to not pump her hips toward his hand to add to the intensity.
    Suddenly his fingers left her and she bit back her protest. She was nowhere near done. Empty, aching. He brought his hand up to his nose and breathed deeply, moisture glistening on his fingers.
    Her heart skipped a beat.
    “Fabulous. I wonder if you’re as sweet as I think you’ll be?” Jack flipped his hand around and brushed his fingertips against her lips, the scent of her arousal strong in her nostrils as he painted her lips with her own cream.
    Then he kissed her. Nibbles and licks, tiny bites to her lower lip before dragging it into his mouth and lapping all traces of moisture away. A heavy pulse beat in her core, along with a throbbing desire to be filled, but she remembered to stay still in spite of the temptation to rub against him. As he kissed her, he returned his hand to cup her mound, holding her firmly, but without enough pressure for her to reach a climax.
    She was painfully close from only his kisses.
    His tongue thrust into her mouth and she suckled it happily, imagining it plunging instead into her heated core. Wishing there was something filling her up. The kiss went on and on, and all the while she was conscious this was Jack she was kissing—her friend, her confidant. He held a piece of her heart, and now he seemed to have found the key to her body.
    He drew back, breathless, eyes dark with