The SEAL's Rebel Librarian

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Authors: Anne Calhoun
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and bent his head to her sex.
    His tongue circled her clit at the same time his fingers found her nipples. She arched and cried out, suddenly, shockingly aware of how turned on she was, slick, her clit swollen. He licked her open, circled her clit until he found a rhythm and pressure that made her quiver, then pinched her nipples.
    She came, back arched like the curve of a harp, shocked, sharp cries tearing from her throat. He licked her through it, then patted her belly gently and sat up. She opened her eyes to see him swipe his cupped hand over his mouth and jaw. His erection pressed against his boxer shorts, the fabric dark and wet in his opened fly. He paused, mid-swipe, and stared at her.
    Dangerous. Powerful. Demanding. Orgasm usually left her satiated and loose, but her nerves still thrummed with desire.
    â€œGet your clothes off,” she said, and scrambled backward, going for the condoms in the bedside table.
    Denim rasped against hair-roughened legs; when she turned back to him, a condom packet in hand, he was kneeling on the bed, naked and hard. “Oh, God,” she said, and reached for him.
    â€œDon’t even,” he said, and took the condom from her.
    Ignoring him, she knee-walked forward until she could cup his balls and trace his hip bones while he rolled the condom down his shaft. She wriggled her shoulders, meaning to take the coat off, but he stopped her.
    â€œLeave it,” he said, and wrapped his arm around her waist and twisted. They ended up with positions reversed, Jack on his back, Erin sprawled on top of him.
    â€œWhat are we doing?” she asked.
    He shifted over a little, lifting her as he did so she straddled him in the center of the bed. “Your turn to do the work,” he said, a little roughly. “Fuck. Look at you.”
    She paused in the act of scooting back, blindly seeking his cock, and looked down at herself. Her skin was blotchy and red from her orgasm, with the marks from his stubble and teeth standing out against the fading sex flush. The curls at the top of her sex were damp from her juices and his mouth, and her hands extended from the too-big sleeves of the leather coat to brace against his shoulders. She looked like a train wreck, in all the best ways.
    â€œSo … fucking … hot,” he said distractedly as he shifted and lifted his hips in one movement.
    She gasped when the blunt tip of his erection pushed against her, seeking entrance. He slid in, slick and easy, the stretch no less shocking than it was the first time they did this. She bit her lower lip and let her head fall back, inhaling a shuddering, pained breath.
    â€œBreathe,” he said. “Fuck, sorry, fuck, exhale. Erin. Exhale.”
    More helpfully he let his hips drop back to the bed, pulling out part way, leaving only the tip nestled in the sensitive flesh at her entrance. Air left her lungs the same way it came in, trembling like her arms. Tension seeped from her body, relaxing muscles; she eased down, taking him inside.
    They both groaned as she enveloped him, inch by slow inch, his hard cock stretching her soft, slick inner walls, until her hips rested against his. His fingers twitched, tightening against her hips, then relaxing.
    â€œOkay?” he asked after a long, humming moment passed. His voice was tight, and the single word sounded like it was forced out between clenched teeth.
    She let her head fall forward, then opened her eyes. Her hair was stuck to her cheeks and lips, partially obscuring her vision, but she could see the dark red flush on his cheekbones, spreading across his chest. “Don’t move,” she whispered.
    â€œNo problem,” he said, his gaze roaming from her mouth to her body, shadowed by the enveloping coat. “If I move, it’ll be all over.”
    She made an amused sound, the corners of her mouth lifting, but registered these signs of amusement with some distant part of her brain. Right now the rest of her

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