Storms and Dreams (Becoming Jane Book 3) Read Free

my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles tenderly, “Do you want me?” he asked.
    “Yes,” I whispered. “Desperately.”
    “Do you trust me?”
    “Utterly,” I said as my legs started shaking against his body. “Oh God.” I moaned in frustration.
    “Shhh,” he said, cupping his hands under my knees, lifting my thighs and pushing them back. “Try to relax, let your body go, let me do all the work,” he said. “Just watch.” I looked down and saw his pelvis framed between my legs, his erection jutting forward as my body responded, opening to him like a flower blooming. “You’re so wet,” he said, glancing up at my face. I felt my cheeks flush hot at his words, and a new wave of wetness flooded my core. “So beautiful,” he said, fisting his erection. He guided it to my opening, dragging the hard blunt head between my swollen folds. His other hand curved behind my back to support me, and as he pushed forward I grasped my knees and met his advance, moaning as he eased his length inside me.
    I felt my muscles strain against his girth, opening wider even as they gripped him, contracting and sucking him deeper. He moaned and faltered then, bowing his head till his forehead rested against mine, pulling me closer still. I tilted my head, lifting my eyes to his face, and found his expression transformed by passion. His mouth was slack, his lips bruised and wet from my kisses. His cheekbones seemed sharper, his brows a knitted slash over eyes that were hooded and dark with need.
    “Look,” he whispered, glancing up at me, his voice strained. “God, just look at you.”
    I looked down, my eyes following his and saw our bodies, a double arch joined at the root, Thomas’ cock plunging in and out of my cunt with strokes so deep and slow, that each connection sent a new wave of convulsions through my limbs. The sight of him, of us, thrust together and apart again, over and over, drowned my senses and for a moment I thought I’d faint at the feel of him, stretching me, claiming my body from the inside out.
    “Thomas,” I cried out as my arousal pitched. I was shaking in earnest now and lost my grip on my legs. His hands swept in to replace mine and he lifted my thighs, hooking his elbows under each of my knees.
    “Put your arms around my neck, and hang on.”
    I hung off of his shoulders, my fingers braided behind his neck, as he lifted me from the marble countertop, my body perched on his arms. His hands gripped my hips firmly, supporting my full weight, when he stepped back from the counter and walked with me to the far end of the kitchen.
    “What are you doing?” I asked, still trembling in his arms, but less so now that he held me steadfast against him.
    “Trust me,” he said. Dipping his head to press his lips to mine, he swept in for a deep kiss before pulling back. He turned so that our bodies were parallel to the large bank of windows in the kitchen, and nodded at them. “Look. Look at us.”
    I looked at the windows, puzzled at first when I saw only blackness, rain and the soft glimmer of the night sky through the panes. But then he lifted me, his length sliding free, and I saw the movement in the glass. My focus shifted and I realized I could see us, the reflection of our bodies clearly outlined in the window. I gaped at the image. He was so tall, so strong and large, holding my body, folded tightly against his, my legs splayed, my pussy poised just above his cock as it reached for me. I hugged him to me, my cheek pressing against his shoulder, watching in the reflection as he lowered me slowly onto his cock.
    “Oh fuck.” He groaned as he entered me and I echoed the sound. The angle was so steep, the penetration so complete, that I felt impaled, deliciously stretched and open to him, even as my muscles clamped down around his cock. He lifted me, withdrawing almost completely, before lowering me again, his eyes finding mine, searching, trying to gauge how fast he should go, how hard he should