Free New Life by Bonnie Dee Page A

when she
finally let go with a little gasp. “Whoa.” Her wide eyes gazed into
mine. “I didn’t really mean for that to happen.”
    I was breathless, and my mind was too blown
to put together a coherent thought. And so I reached for her again,
pulled her close, and went for round two. She tasted so good, and
her body melted against mine as if she didn’t really regret the
kissing at all.
    It seemed like a dream, an impossible
fantasy. But the sensations were too intensely real to be a dream.
Anna’s arms were so tight around me I could hardly breathe, and her
tongue invaded my mouth, stealing away the last fragments of
logical thought. My cock was rigid between us, demanding the
natural next step. I followed its direction, walking Anna backward
across the room toward my bed.
     

Chapter Eight
    Kissing is a tricky thing. What techniques
work or don’t are different for everybody and can change depending
on who you’re with and how much you’re attracted to them. To have
the person, the mood, the technique, and desire all come together
in a perfect storm is a rare thing. I’ve kissed enough men to know
the difference between so-so and superb. That night with Jason was
indescribable.
    I’d planned to end our date with a handshake,
maybe to meet again or maybe not. But suddenly we were slow dancing
in his shabby apartment, and then I was all over him. A spark, a
hunger, a madness overtook me. We tumbled onto his narrow bed, his
weight bearing me to the mattress, my legs wrapping around his.
    “Hey, we’re not going to…” I said between
kisses. “I don’t plan to have…” More kisses. “Sex tonight.”
    “Mm-hm.” His mouth moved from my lips to
nuzzle under my jaw. I lifted my chin and groaned as he kissed my
neck as if he would devour me, vampire-style. His hunger echoed
mine—rushed, desperate, needy, but in a good way. I craved the cock
I felt nudging against me. But I wasn’t going to give in to desire.
Not tonight at least.
    “Look. This is great, but we’ve got to slow
down.”
    “Okay.” His tongue dipped into the hollow in
my throat. I suppressed another moan as he cupped one of my breasts
and teased the nipple to a point.
    “I’m serious.” I made myself a liar by
clutching his ass through his jeans, pulling him even closer.
    Jason’s mouth drifted to my cleavage.
“Nothing below the waist,” he promised, his breath heating my
breast.
    “’Cause this is going way too fast,” I
reiterated weakly, then whimpered when his mouth engulfed my
nipple, dampness soaking my thin cotton top with the built-in cups.
The tug sent a bolt of fire lancing through me. Surely just a
little more making out would be okay.
    I relaxed against the pillow as Jason pulled
down my neckline until my breasts popped free. He kissed and
fondled them, commanding my nipples to attention with his sucking
mouth and molding fingers. I slid my hands into his hair, holding
his head to me as I gave in to the blissful sensations darting
through my body.
    I glanced down at Jason’s profile, dark
eyelashes shielding those amazing eyes, his lips stretched around
my nipple. I hadn’t expected this, but didn’t regret it. I stroked
his hair and murmured how good it felt as I arched my breasts into
his touch.
    After a bit, Jason moved back to kissing my
mouth. His chest pressed against mine, and I wanted to feel skin
against skin. I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and started to haul
it up.
    Immediately, he pulled away. “Wait.
Don’t.”
    I blinked, my lustful stupor dispersing.
“Why?”
    His dark eyes stared into mine. “I have
scars. Worse than the one on my face.”
    “I don’t care.” I tugged on his shirt
again.
    “I do.” He sat up, and I nearly whimpered at
the loss of his body covering mine. I gripped the front of his
T-shirt, not letting him move too far away.
    “Please, don’t be self-conscious. I want to
feel your skin against mine. Your scars don’t matter to me. Hey,
you’ve seen my tits. It’s