Hot For It. Jodi Copeland Lynn

       Carinna

      With my bedroom door firmly closed, I sank down on the edge of the bed, pushed my hands through my tangle of curls, and accepted the throbbing ache in my core for what it was: the raw desire to fuck Jack.

      The want came as no surprise, or was anything I could pin on alcohol--though the handful of drinks I’d downed before he’d confiscated the gin bottle did have my tension lessening and my belly buzzing with warmth. The truth was I’d had dreams of sleeping with Jack since I was old enough to appreciate the concept of fitting tab A into slot B.

      Tonight was no dream, and I’d long since moved past giving juvenile names to body parts. What I wanted was to strip him naked, put my hands and mouth all over his work-hardened body, and take his cock into my dripping pussy again and again. I wanted to forget the events of the last two days completely. Forget how weak my father’s death had left me, how emotionally drained and wrung out.

      I wanted to feel whole, and I knew Jack could give that to me.

      But would he?

      Parading around in my underwear had definitely roused his interest--I’d seen the flicker of male awareness in his eyes. Had it roused the rest of him, as well?

      Any other night and with any other man, I wouldn’t be sitting on this bed wasting my time by wondering. I would be out in that kitchen, pushing him up against the table, taking his cock inside me and riding him hard. But tonight was no typical night and Jack was no ordinary man. With him I had to consider the repercussions. All those many reasons that had stopped me from giving voice to my desire for him in the past.