Next thing I knew, he was perched over me, his arms braced on the back of the couch, caging me in. “Okay, then. I will.”

His mouth closed over mine. I’d been too immersed in my own grief the last time I’d kissed him to pay much attention to the actual kissing. His lips were softer than I’d remembered, but his touch was firm. His tongue moved confidently against mine, licking me with aggressive strokes that made my belly flip-flop and my panties damp. Made me twist and turn as I tried to take everything he had to give. Made me forget what I’d been doing and the failure that I’d met. Made me forget myself all together.

JC cupped a hand around my neck and wrapped a hand around my waist. With some expert move that was lost on me, he sat down on the couch and pulled me into his lap, straddling him. All without breaking our kiss. I liked this position. I could cling to his shoulders for support and squirm against the bulge in his pants while he worked at my bun until my hair fell loose around my face. Then, with one hand tangled in my locks, his other hand stroked my clit through the thin material of my panties.

We made out like this for long lost moments. He didn’t ask to take off my shirt. He simply tugged at the hem until I broke our kiss long enough for him to pull it over my head and toss it aside. Then, while he kissed at the skin above my bra, he unhooked the back—expertly, I noticed—then pulled that garment off me as well.

He pressed his palm against my chest and gently pushed me back so he could look me over. I watched his eyes as they feasted on me. Saw his pupils as they dilated with lust.

“Gwen, you have spectacular breasts. So beautiful. You hide them away behind your shapeless clothes. Are you simply being modest or are you uncomfortable with how gorgeous you are?”

“Uh…”I didn’t know if I was supposed to answer. If I was, I didn’t know what the answer was.

Not seeming to care that I hadn’t responded, he cupped a hand over each mound and squeezed, hard enough to really feel it. He kneaded his fingers into my skin then pulled at my nipples until I let out a soft cry of pleasure.

“Grab your breasts, Gwen.” He moved his hands out of the way so I could put mine in their place. “Yeah, like that.” He covered my hands with his and together we massaged and rubbed my sensitive skin. “Jesus, that’s so hot. One day, while you touch yourself like that, I’m going to slide my cock between your tits. Would you like that?”

“Hmm,” I moaned. It was the only sound I could make out. I was too turned on by his talk and the way he was touching me—the way we were touching me. I thought I might be able to come from this alone.

“That’s not good enough, Gwen. I need you to tell me. With words.”

“I would like it,” I gasped.

“You’d like what? Say it.”

I’d heard dirty talk, but nothing quite like the way JC talked to me. And certainly I’d never been expected to reciprocate.

What’s more, I never knew how much I wanted to reciprocate. “I’d like you to fuck my tits.”

JC rewarded me with a bruising kiss. “I’m going to,” he said when he pulled away. “Not today, but sometime soon. I promise.”

Christ, the idea practically made me explode. It was so base. So primal. So…naughty. It was exactly what I wanted.

There was something else I wanted. Wanted now. “You too,” I said, my breathing labored. “Your shirt off too.”

JC seemed pleased, if with my request or with the fact that I had stated it out loud, I didn’t know. “You want my skin touching yours?”

I nodded more vigorously than I needed to, eager to have him reveal a part of himself when he kept so much else hidden.

“Then let me make that happen.” He took his sweater off. Then the white T-shirt he wore beneath. He stilled to let me study him.

As I fondled my breasts, my eyes raked across his torso. He was trim and sculpted, not overly toned, but still sporting a washboard. His pants hung low on his hips. I couldn’t decide what to focus on first—the creases that shot down in a V below his waistband or the tattoos that decorated his skin. One on his bicep, a compass just above the pit of his elbow. Another, words written in a grid on his opposite forearm. A third, Chinese lettering running down one side of his ribcage.

Before I’d gotten a chance to examine much of him at all, he turned me so that I was laid out on the couch. Then he climbed over me. “I love the way you look at me, Gwen. And I hope to give you more time to explore all of me later on. But I’m playing selfish today. Today I’m exploring you.”

With a hand on each side of me, he held his weight so that he could brush his chest against me, back and forth across my nipples, which burned and stung from the too-gentle touch. I pushed my breasts closer together, trying to get better contact with his skin.

“That’s so good, Gwen. So hot. Now keep touching yourself like that, okay? I need to suck on you.” He pushed himself back on his knees and lowered his head to my breasts and drew a taut nipple into his mouth.

I sighed at the near brutal way he sucked and tugged at my tender flesh. His total attention was on this one breast, his hands cupping it as he worshipped it with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Subconsciously, my fingers mimicked his ardor on my other nipple—pinching it to a peak, pulling it to the brink of pain.

I didn’t even realize I was gasping until he said something.

“I love those little sounds you’re making, Gwen.” He licked a trail from the breast he’d been feeding on, down the valley in between, and to its twin. “I need to hear them louder. Can you make them louder for me?”

As he gave the same attention to my second breast, I tried to be louder. It wasn’t easy for me. I wasn’t in control of them in the first place, and now that he’d called me out, I felt awkward.

Fortunately, JC was patient. He worked me up again, kneading me with his hands, devouring me with his mouth until I was panting noisily.

When his lips eventually left my chest, he returned to my mouth for another deep, urgent kiss. He stretched his legs out behind him, settling between my thighs so that I could feel the stiff ridge of his erection through his pants against my crotch.

“Ah, fuck, I’m so hard for you right now. I’m steel.” He ground his hips into me. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes, yes. I feel you.” My voice was tiny and quiet, so I bucked my pelvis up to let him know how well I could feel him, how much I wanted to feel him more, in case he didn’t make that out from my small statement.