Stroke of Midnight by Bonnie Edwards Page A

him.
    “Stop that. Not yet. Not until I’ve had my fill of these,” he said with a tight squeeze on her luscious nipples.
    Her pussy pressed down on him with each tweak of her rosy buds, as if they were directly connected to her inner muscles.
    “Do you like that?” he asked with a rasp of his thumbnail against her distended right nipple. The aureole was flushed and protruding, looked full and invited his mouth.
    He sat up and raised her so he could lave each breast in turn. She squirmed in his arms and her moisture slid across his cock. Damn, but he wanted to lift her, part her inner lips and let her slide on down to home. But he’d neglected to use a condom and he refused to take a chance.
    Instead, for her comfort as well as his own he slid a hand between their bodies and set his cock to the side. “Don’t want to slide in by mistake,” he said through gritted teeth.
    She shuddered and arched back to show him her neglected, moist clit. He rubbed his thumb across it, smearing her juice around and around it. Moist and full, he knew she was ready to come, and the idea of seeing her explode with nothing but his thumb on her appealed like nothing ever had.
    “You’re going to come for me now, Jaye. Right on my thumb.” He tapped her, letting the sticky juice of her smear and get tacky, allowing the nerve endings to scream to her brain.
    “Fuck me, Alex.” She rocked on his lap. “Suck my nipples and fuck me.”
    He latched onto a nipple and sucked hard, then harder still when she grabbed his head and held him there. Her pussy pushed against his thumb and moisture flowed across his knuckles wedged into her opening.
    “Make me come, let me c-c-come.” She surged against him and groaned deep in her throat. Breathy little grunts caught him by the balls and his cock jumped and flexed against her inner thigh.
    Just the sounds she made as she reached for her coming were enough to undo him. He pressed his cock against her flesh and held himself still lest he shoot against her.
    She rocked and crooned while he tapped her clit with delicious rubs of his thumb. She boiled in his lap, rolled against his hand, grabbed her left breast and pulled his mouth to it.
    And then she grunted, harder than before, grunted and shuddered and imploded. She gushed against his hand in a flood and he slid a finger into her to help with her inner contractions. When he reached up into her, Jaye’s eyes rolled back into her head and she shook like a rag doll with her release.
    She melted over him and he held on while she flowed into a puddle of hot woman and hotter pussy.
    All he could think was he wanted to do it again. And for longer than two weeks.
     
    Jaye focused inwardly, as she buckled her lap belt for the landing at Orly Airport. She had embarrassed herself by coming all over Alex’s lap with nothing more than his thumb on her clit, his knuckles kissing her pussy and his mouth on her breast. He’d hardly had to work at all.
    When had she turned into a woman who could do that? And why was it so damn easy with him?
    She’d had orgasms with other men. Granted, they were smaller, less messy and a very long time ago, but still, she’d had them. But they’d never been easy to come by.
    Most of the time, the effort of reaching for them seemed like more trouble than they were worth. Weak, and short in duration, her orgasms were hardly memorable.
    But Alex made her sing like a soprano. Each nerve taut with strain, her orgasms played out into a crescendo that built beyond endurance.
    She smiled at his pleased expression as he studied her from his seat across the narrow jet.
    A slight bump rattled through the cabin.
    “Touchdown,” he said. “You weren’t nervous at all. You hardly noticed.” He seemed impressed by her refusal to be afraid.
    “I was thinking of other things.” Now she was far from fearless. But was it fear of her growing feelings for him, or of flying in this small jet? Probably some of both.
    “Like what? Something