{BOOK THREE}...When unworldly literature student Jeon Jungkook first encountered the driven and dazzling young entrepreneur Kim Taehyung it sparked a sensual affair that changed both of their lives irrevocably. Shocked, intrigued, and, ultimately, r...
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Jungkook P.O.V. (Pay attention to the dates during the email section!)
His hand travels down at an infuriatingly slow speed to my hip as he worships my nipple with his mouth. I moan loudly, my breath short and shallow, and I try once more to entice him into me, rocking against him. He's thick and heavy and close, but he's taking his own sweet leisurely time with me.
Fuck this. I struggle and twist, determined to buck him off me again.
"What the—"
Grabbing my hands, Taehyung pins them down on the bed, my arms spread wide, and rests his full bodyweight on me, completely subduing me. I am breathless, wild.
"You wanted resistance," I say, panting. He rears up over me and gazes down, his hands still locked around my wrists. I place my heels under his behind and push. He doesn't move. Gah!
"You don't want to play nice?" he asks astonished, his eyes alight with excitement.
"I just want you to make love to me, Taehyung." Could he be any more obtuse? First, we're fighting and wrestling then he's all tender and sweet. It's confusing. I'm in bed with Mr. Mercurial.
"Please." I press my heels against his backside once more. Burning hazel eyes search mine. Oh, what is he thinking? He looks momentarily bewildered and confused. He releases my hands and sits back on his heels, pulling me into his lap.
"Okay, Mister Kim, we'll do this your way." He lifts me up and makes love to me. -
I trail my fingers through the hair on Taehyung's head. He lies on his back, still and quiet beside me as we both catch our breath. His hand thrums rhythmically down my back.
"You're quiet," I whisper and kiss his shoulder. He turns and looks at me, his expression giving nothing away. "That was fun." Shit, is something wrong?
"You confound me, Mister Kim."
"Confound you?"
He shifts so that we're face to face. "Yes. You. Calling the shots. It's . . . different."
"Good different or bad different?" I trail a finger over his lips. His brow furrows, as if he doesn't quite understand the question. Absentmindedly, he kisses my finger.
"Good different," he says, but he doesn't sound convinced.
"You've never indulged in this little fantasy before?" I blush as I say it. Do I really want to know any more about my husband's colorful . . . um, kaleidoscopic sex life before me? My subconscious eyes me warily over his tortoiseshell half-moon specs. Do you really want to go there?
"No, Jungkook. You can touch me." It's a simple explanation that speaks volumes. Of course, the fifteen couldn't.
"Mrs. Robinson could touch you." I murmur the words before my brain registers what I've said. Shit. Why did I mention her?
