Jem pulls his T-shirt off too and lifts me onto his lap, his eyes level with the inked words on my skin. He runs a finger along the tattoo on my side, and up to the quote beneath my right breast. “Oh, you’re right. I remember now.” He circles my nipple with his tongue.
I grip his hair, and he runs his hand over my bare legs, squeezing my ass in both hands. “You drive me fucking mad the way you do that.” He pulls away and looks up at me. “Always wearing just T-shirts and nothing but panties. I deserve a medal for the self-control I have every time you walk past me.”
Holding his face, I kiss his cheeks across to his ear. “I know.” I nip his earlobe.
He inhales sharply. “Why do you do it?”
“Because I feel comfortable around you, and it’s comfy for me.”
Jem holds my hips firmly and pushes against me, his arousal pressing between his jeans and my lace panties. “Quite often it’s not very comfortable for me.”
I smirk and wriggle against him a little more so he groans. “Sorry.”
“Ruby…” he warns.
“Yes?”
“Remember you told me this morning that I didn’t need to be so cautious?”
I run my fingers lightly up and down Jem’s back, pushing myself closer so his mouth almost touches my breast. “I did.”
“If you don’t stop teasing me, I won’t be cautious.” Jem presses his hot mouth to my skin.
I love the hoarseness in Jem’s voice, the way he looks at me when I’m turning him on. The feel of his hard cock against me, his heat, touch, kiss… everything Jem. What we have is real, an intense physical need for each other that pushes colour into our world.
“Okay, I’ll stop. Pass my T-shirt.” I swing my leg to climb off Jem but he grips my hips and holds me in place.
“Um. No.”
I laugh and fight to climb off him, but he wraps his arms around my waist in a vice-like grip, mouth on my breasts. As he sucks on my nipple, I gasp and dig my nails into his back.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says as he pulls away again.
“Really?” I run my fingers into his hair, holding his curls so he can’t put his mouth back on me.
“Really.” Jem stands and I hook my arms and legs around him, expecting Jem to take me back to the bedroom. Instead, he backs me against the wall of the house and presses himself against me.
The bricks scrape my back and I wince. “Ow! Jem… That hurts. Not here.”
Jem doesn’t reply and glances around, his hold on me firm. The remnants of our meal rest on the smooth marble table nearby, plates and glasses, and a half empty bowl of salad. Jem strides over, and one arm around my waist, he pushes everything to one side and sets me on the table.
“Here.” Before I can respond, Jem covers my body with his, eager mouth and hands harsher than usual as he pushes me backwards against the hard surface. I gasp as he nips at my neck, runs his hands across my breasts, and rolls my nipples between his fingers, hands not leaving me for a second.
I’d protest that we’re outside and exposed in the fading sunlight, but Jem switches everything off but the need for more. He pulls my legs to the edge of the table and opens them; pressing against me, his jeans and my panties barriers I don’t want. I make an involuntary sound in my throat and wrap a leg around his waist pulling him closer. In response, Jem slides his hand up the inner thigh of my other leg, parting them further.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he says and runs a finger along my panties. I suck air through my teeth, the barrier too much. Jem silently agrees, hooks his fingers around the edge, and pulls them down, the black lace rough against my thigh as he does.
As I kick them off, I sit and quickly unbutton his jeans, pulling out his cock. I run my fingers along the hard length, circling my hand around the base, and Jem groans, fingers sliding along my pussy. As he pushes one into me, he shoves me back onto the table, so I’m forced to let go of him. Gazing down, Jem slides his finger out and rubs along my folds, thumbing my clit. I squirm, at the intensity of the touch and discomfort at Jem seeing me so clearly, so exposed.
“You look—” Jem swallows and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom.
I watch as he slides the condom on but before I decide whether to help, he’s done; the thick tip of his cock already against my sensitive flesh. Jem watches as he slides himself along me, breath ragged.
I sink back, head against the cool marble and look up at the emerging stars, the ones in the sky and my mind, my chest tightening as my breath shortens too.
“I want to go slow, but I fucking can’t.” Jem’s voice is hoarser and he places a hand on the table next to me, leaning down to kiss my face.
“I don’t care.” I barely get the words out and Jem plunges into me, hard and fast, stretching, and filling me. There’s more friction than usual—I’m turned on, but without as much attention from Jem, I’m not as aroused as usual. “Fuck!”