“Stop,” Jen burst out.
He froze. Started to pull out, but she dug her fingers into his ass to keep him in place.
“Stop reining it in,” she clarified with a frazzled look in her eyes. “I won’t break, cowboy. So stop with the slow and gentle routine and do what I know you want to do to me.”
He hissed out a breath. “What I want to do is f**k you like a goddamn animal.”
“Good. Great. Now do it.”
The last thread of restraint snapped inside him like a rubber band.
No finesse, no controlled movements. All he heard was their ragged breathing, the rhythmic squeaking of the couch springs, the deafening roar of his pulse. He f**ked her hard. Deep, steady strokes that soon became shallow and erratic. It didn’t take long before Jen’s body arched beneath his, before she was moaning again, begging for more. Cash angled his hips in order to stimulate her clit with each stroke, and when her pu**y spasmed around him and she started to climax, he let himself go. A zing of pleasure set fire to his balls and unleashed an orgasm that shot up his shaft, sizzled his spine, and made him forget his name.
His mind fragmented. Heart stopped. Surroundings faded. The only thing that registered was the agonizing pleasure seizing his body.
When he finally regained the use of his mental and physical faculties, he became aware of something ringing.
“Phone,” he mumbled.
His reaction time was slower than usual, but he managed to stagger off the couch in search of his cell, glancing at Jen over his shoulder. “Sorry, but it could be the—”
“Base,” she finished. “Don’t worry, I know the drill.”
It took him a moment to remember that both her father and brother were military.
Her brother. Oh shit.
Cash quickly pushed all thoughts of Carson from his mind as he headed for the kitchen counter and grabbed his phone. He’d deal with the threat of drowning later.
Fortunately, the call wasn’t from his CO. He almost didn’t pick up when he saw Dylan’s number on the screen, but changed his mind at the last second, answering before the call kicked over to voice mail. “What’s up?” he asked in lieu of greeting.
“Just doing my sponsor-ly duty and checking in to see how you’re holding up,” Dylan said. “Or should I say, how you’re holding out.”
Cash’s gaze moved to the couch, where Jen was pulling her black panties up her legs. Her bare br**sts swayed as she bent down to search for her bra.
“Let’s just say you’re the worst sponsor ever,” he muttered.
A hoot sounded in his ear. “You caved? Already? We saw each other two hours ago.”
It had only been two hours since he’d left the guys? Wow. Apparently he had even less self-control than he’d thought.
His friend’s laughter continued to fill the line.
“Is there anything else you wanted?” Cash asked through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, to remind you we’re having beers on Monday. You know, when my guys beat the shit out of your guys.”
“You mean when my guys clean up the field with yours?”
“You wish, bro.” Dylan threw in a few expletive-laced heckles, then said, “So we’re still on for the Monday-nighter?”
“Definitely.”
“Cool. See you then.”
Cash hung up and saw Jen’s quizzical expression. She’d put her tank top and shorts back on, and was in the process of tying her hair into a ponytail. “What was that about?” she asked.
“Football rivalry,” he explained. “Arizona’s playing San Fran on Monday, so Dylan’s coming over to watch my team kick his team’s ass.”
“Dylan? As in your go-to ménage buddy?”
He scowled at her. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s naked.”
Shit. She was right. Ignoring her mocking look, he crossed the room and gathered up his clothes. As he bent over to pick up his shorts from the floor, he heard Jen gasp.
“Holy hell,” she breathed. “That’s hot.”
Cash had to grin. “Didn’t realize my bare ass was gasp-worthy.”
“It’s not. Well, it is. But I was looking at your tattoo.”
He tugged his shorts up to his hips, jumping when he felt Jen’s warm hand on him. There was nothing sexual about the touch—she was tracing the tattoo on his upper back, which spanned from shoulder to shoulder—yet his dick jerked at the contact.
Get yourself together, he ordered the big guy.
Jen’s finger danced over the bumps of his spine. “What’s the date underneath the eagle?” she asked curiously.
“The day I got my SEAL trident.”
“Nice.” Those fingertips continued to travel over his skin. “Is it weird that this tattoo really, really turns me on?”
Smothering a groan, he ducked out of her grasp and quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head before turning around to face her. “Jen,” he began.
Her expression grew cloudy. Perching her hands on her hips, she searched his face, then frowned as if she didn’t like what she saw. “Don’t you dare tell me what happened just now was a mistake. You know you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
He couldn’t deny that even if he tried, but that didn’t alter the fact that he’d totally screwed up. He’d promised Carson he wouldn’t touch Jen, and horn dog that he was, he’d caved the second she’d placed that dainty hand of hers on his dick.
He froze. Started to pull out, but she dug her fingers into his ass to keep him in place.
“Stop reining it in,” she clarified with a frazzled look in her eyes. “I won’t break, cowboy. So stop with the slow and gentle routine and do what I know you want to do to me.”
He hissed out a breath. “What I want to do is f**k you like a goddamn animal.”
“Good. Great. Now do it.”
The last thread of restraint snapped inside him like a rubber band.
No finesse, no controlled movements. All he heard was their ragged breathing, the rhythmic squeaking of the couch springs, the deafening roar of his pulse. He f**ked her hard. Deep, steady strokes that soon became shallow and erratic. It didn’t take long before Jen’s body arched beneath his, before she was moaning again, begging for more. Cash angled his hips in order to stimulate her clit with each stroke, and when her pu**y spasmed around him and she started to climax, he let himself go. A zing of pleasure set fire to his balls and unleashed an orgasm that shot up his shaft, sizzled his spine, and made him forget his name.
His mind fragmented. Heart stopped. Surroundings faded. The only thing that registered was the agonizing pleasure seizing his body.
When he finally regained the use of his mental and physical faculties, he became aware of something ringing.
“Phone,” he mumbled.
His reaction time was slower than usual, but he managed to stagger off the couch in search of his cell, glancing at Jen over his shoulder. “Sorry, but it could be the—”
“Base,” she finished. “Don’t worry, I know the drill.”
It took him a moment to remember that both her father and brother were military.
Her brother. Oh shit.
Cash quickly pushed all thoughts of Carson from his mind as he headed for the kitchen counter and grabbed his phone. He’d deal with the threat of drowning later.
Fortunately, the call wasn’t from his CO. He almost didn’t pick up when he saw Dylan’s number on the screen, but changed his mind at the last second, answering before the call kicked over to voice mail. “What’s up?” he asked in lieu of greeting.
“Just doing my sponsor-ly duty and checking in to see how you’re holding up,” Dylan said. “Or should I say, how you’re holding out.”
Cash’s gaze moved to the couch, where Jen was pulling her black panties up her legs. Her bare br**sts swayed as she bent down to search for her bra.
“Let’s just say you’re the worst sponsor ever,” he muttered.
A hoot sounded in his ear. “You caved? Already? We saw each other two hours ago.”
It had only been two hours since he’d left the guys? Wow. Apparently he had even less self-control than he’d thought.
His friend’s laughter continued to fill the line.
“Is there anything else you wanted?” Cash asked through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, to remind you we’re having beers on Monday. You know, when my guys beat the shit out of your guys.”
“You mean when my guys clean up the field with yours?”
“You wish, bro.” Dylan threw in a few expletive-laced heckles, then said, “So we’re still on for the Monday-nighter?”
“Definitely.”
“Cool. See you then.”
Cash hung up and saw Jen’s quizzical expression. She’d put her tank top and shorts back on, and was in the process of tying her hair into a ponytail. “What was that about?” she asked.
“Football rivalry,” he explained. “Arizona’s playing San Fran on Monday, so Dylan’s coming over to watch my team kick his team’s ass.”
“Dylan? As in your go-to ménage buddy?”
He scowled at her. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Me? You’re the one who’s naked.”
Shit. She was right. Ignoring her mocking look, he crossed the room and gathered up his clothes. As he bent over to pick up his shorts from the floor, he heard Jen gasp.
“Holy hell,” she breathed. “That’s hot.”
Cash had to grin. “Didn’t realize my bare ass was gasp-worthy.”
“It’s not. Well, it is. But I was looking at your tattoo.”
He tugged his shorts up to his hips, jumping when he felt Jen’s warm hand on him. There was nothing sexual about the touch—she was tracing the tattoo on his upper back, which spanned from shoulder to shoulder—yet his dick jerked at the contact.
Get yourself together, he ordered the big guy.
Jen’s finger danced over the bumps of his spine. “What’s the date underneath the eagle?” she asked curiously.
“The day I got my SEAL trident.”
“Nice.” Those fingertips continued to travel over his skin. “Is it weird that this tattoo really, really turns me on?”
Smothering a groan, he ducked out of her grasp and quickly pulled his T-shirt over his head before turning around to face her. “Jen,” he began.
Her expression grew cloudy. Perching her hands on her hips, she searched his face, then frowned as if she didn’t like what she saw. “Don’t you dare tell me what happened just now was a mistake. You know you enjoyed it as much as I did.”
He couldn’t deny that even if he tried, but that didn’t alter the fact that he’d totally screwed up. He’d promised Carson he wouldn’t touch Jen, and horn dog that he was, he’d caved the second she’d placed that dainty hand of hers on his dick.
