Chapter 18
eighteen
. . .
Amelia
Holy fuck, McKittrick can kiss. I thought I knew what he could do after our encounter the other day, but this kiss…
it’s electric. Heat simmers in my veins, just beneath the surface.
His tight grip on my ponytail doesn’t give me an inch, and as his other hand skates over my curves, I start to tremble.
I want him so fucking badly, it almost hurts.
His fingers trail over the crease of my hip, and then between my legs. When he feels the slickness there, his lips curve into a smirk against mine.
“Shut up,” I murmur into the kiss.
“I didn’t say anything,” he says, before driving two fingers inside me.
My eyes flutter shut, sensory overload overwhelming my system. It takes a second for my brain to come back online, and every time he thrusts his fingers into me, little zaps of pleasure fry my brain. All of my synapses are firing at full speed and then some, flooding my bloodstream with pleasure.
I’m forced to break the kiss, burying my face in his neck and breathing in his woodsy scent. The scrape of his scruff against my cheek grounds me, offering me a lifeline.
When his thumb brushes my clit, I clench around him, and he lets out a dark chuckle.
“Feel good?” he murmurs, his face buried in my hair.
“Shut up,” I say again.
“Talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling.” He strums my clit, knowing exactly how to play my body.
“Can’t. Talk.”
“Oh? Should I stop?” He pulls his fingers free, and I whine, grabbing for his hand and dragging his fingers back to where I want them. He runs them through my folds, withholding what I need most.
“Close.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“I need you to touch me.” Breathing hard, I force myself upright. I’m so worked up, I’m almost dizzy. “I need your fingers inside me.”
“Yes, ma’am,” McKittrick says, a smirk on his lips. I want to slap it off.
But I’m not about non-consensual spanking, so I settle for kissing it away.
His fingers thrust inside me, curling until they find the spot that drives me crazy. I clench around him, grinding my clit against the palm of his hand.
My breaths come faster now, and when he bites at my lips and then soothes the sting with his tongue, I moan.
“Say my name.”
“Mc—”
He shakes his head. “Say my name, Amelia.”
“Jason.”
“Again.”
“Jason.”
“Good girl.”
Something inside me lights up at his praise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be his good girl.
His grip tightens in my hair, and it’s that simple sensation that tips me over the edge.
My entire body lights up with pleasure, bright white lights bursting behind my eyelids.
As I come down, Jason’s kiss gentles, his lips tethering me to this plane of existence. Once the aftershocks fade, he pulls his fingers free. I collapse against his strong chest, my eyes fluttering shut as I try to regulate my breathing.
His strong arms wrap around me, and before I know what’s happening, I’m airborne. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me into the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.
He lays me out on the center of the bed, pausing only to drop his pants and briefs before he crawls onto the bed.
But he doesn’t stretch out beside me.
No, he stops halfway up the bed, spreading my legs. I start to close them, but he forces them open, gazing at me.
And when he dips his head, tasting me for the first time, my eyes nearly roll back into my head. He settles my legs over his shoulders, and my hands slide into his hair. It’s as soft as I imagined, the strands the perfect length to grip.
Jason isn’t shy, his touch sure as he devours me. His fingers slide home inside me, intent on wringing every ounce of pleasure from my body.
And when I break for the second time, the satisfaction on his face mirrors mine.
He finally joins me against the pillows, and he pulls me into his arms, resting my head on his pecs. The coarseness of his chest hair abrades my cheek in the best possible way.
I’ve been single by choice for a long time. It’s hard to find a man who isn’t intimidated by my career or the people I hang out with. And it’s even more difficult to find someone who can abide by my schedule, the constant travel wreaking havoc on a relationship.
It’s easier to focus on one night only situations. But those don’t typically lend themselves to cuddling, to being held in a man’s arms.
Jason’s legs tangle with mine, his body wrapped around me.
As I recover, I trail my hand over his chest, down his abs, and further to his cock, standing at attention and digging into my hip. I start to think that maybe this doesn’t have to be a one night only thing.
The connection between us is electric. He knows it just as well as I do. Why should our jobs dictate who we sleep with?
His hand drives into my hair, twisting the strands around his fingers as he holds me close to him. The way he kisses me… He knows we only have tonight. So, why am I worrying about a nebulous future? I should enjoy what we have now. No need to borrow tomorrow’s trouble.
My hand wraps around his cock, giving him a firm stroke. He’s hot and hard in my hand, smooth as velvet, with sticky pre-cum easing the glide of my strokes. I use my other hand to cup his balls, rolling them.
He shudders, his hands mapping over my skin, the swell of my breasts, the curve of my hip. He’s touching me like he can’t get enough, and I have to admit, the idea goes to my head a bit. I haven’t felt desired in a long time. I haven’t felt desirable.
I don’t regretted being a surrogate, but for the last year, I lost sight of who I am. Between all the hormones before the implantation and then the pregnancy weight, it’s taken a while to feel like myself again. To feel like a woman and not just an incubator.
But now? There’s no doubting the want in his eyes, in his touch.
My body did something incredibly powerful, and yes, it doesn’t look the same as before. I have stretch marks and battle scars. My hips are wider, my breasts fuller. I can’t take it back.
And I’m not the same as before. I’m irrevocably changed.
Jason trails his thumb over my cheek, his eyes searching mine, and I realize my hand stilled on his cock when I was lost in thought.
“You with me?” he murmurs.
“I am now.”
“We don’t have to do this.” He’s so fucking earnest, like his cock isn’t throbbing in my fist. “If you’re not into it…”
“That’s not what it is. I was—it doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’m focused.” Giving him a sultry smile, I resume stroking him. “Do you have a condom?”
He moves my hand off his cock. “Maybe we should talk about whatever’s bothering you.”
“It’s not bothering me.” But taking the hint, I roll away from him, intent on getting out of the bed. If we aren’t having sex, I definitely don’t want a heart-to-heart conversation with him.
But Jason follows me, molding his body against my back. His erection presses into my ass, but he doesn’t make any attempt to grind it into me. He wraps his arm around my torso, his hand on my ribcage, just beneath my breasts.
“Talk to me, Amelia.”
“I just… thoughts. I had thoughts.”
He presses a kiss on the back of my neck. “Bad thoughts?”
“No. They were… insecurities. Things I don’t really want to verbalize right now.”
Or ever.
“How can I reassure you? How can I prove that I want you?”
“You could fuck me.”
He goes still.
“Amelia…”
“Fuck me stupid, actually, is what I asked for.” I heave an exaggerated sigh. “But if you don’t want to follow through…”
His hand slides from my ribs to between my legs, cupping me there.
“That’s not what this is. Not at all.”
“Then, what is it?”
“I don’t want to do this, if you’re not into it.” Jason strokes his fingers through my folds, but makes no attempt to enter me. “I don’t want empty, meaningless sex. I want you.”
Carefully, I turn in the circle of his arms.
“Then, fuck me,” I whisper.
His lips crash down onto mine, and it’s just as electric as every other kiss has been. He gets under my skin, digging in and pressing on all of my insecurities.
With a gasp, he breaks the kiss, then rolls away. Rummaging in the nightstand, he comes up with a condom and a bottle of lube. As I watch, he suits up, and then liberally applies the lube. I’m plenty wet, but there’s no such thing as too much lube. And given it’s been a while for me…
I move to the center of the bed, and he joins me there, his cock bobbing. He notches the head at my entrance, and I tense.
He freezes. “What is it?”
Swallowing, I admit, “It’s my first time since Ainsley. Just… go slow.”
His face softens. “Always.”
Dropping forward onto his elbows, he kisses me, slow and deep. And when I finally relaxed, melting into him, he slides inside me. I wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his neck. His scent immediately calms my racing heart, his body a weighted blanket soothing my overstimulated synapses.
Ohhhhh fuck. This is even better than I imagined. My cunt pulses around him, adjusting to his size. He gives me time to breathe through it.
Our bodies are connected in the most intimate way possible, but it’s more than the physicality of it. It’s more than pure, unbridled lust. Sure, we have that in spades. All he’s offering me is one night; I don’t get any more of him. Not if I want to keep my job.
But as he fucks me with firm, steady strokes, it becomes more and more difficult to remember why that’s so important.
Financial independence? A healthy self-worth?
Who needs those things when I can spend all my time being speared by the hockey captain’s massive cock?
I could be his on-demand cock sleeve, ready and waiting in his bed at all hours of the day.
It’s a fantasy. It’s not real life. It’s not something I want for myself, even in the deepest confines of my mind. It’s fun to think about, but I’m not cut out for a true submissive sexual connection.
Jason lifts my hips off the bed, supporting my body weight and changing the angle until he hits the spot that makes me moan, my skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“There it is,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple.
His hands skate over my body, playing with my nipples, brushing my clit, fisting my ass. He doesn’t stop touching me, his reverence sending butterflies fluttering in my belly.
“I—”
I don’t know what to say. I have no words. They’re all gone. Poof. He’s stolen my ability for rational thought, and I’m not even upset about it.
My hands move from his shoulders to his chest, down the ladder of his abs, and further to where we’re connected. As my fingers brush my clit and the base of his shaft, he stiffens, and I can’t hide my pleased smile.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” he says, nudging my hand away.
And then he touches me, his thumb moving in determined circles around my clit. I’m teetering on the edge, every fiber of my being stretched tight, like an elastic at its limit.
Pulling him onto me, his chest hair brushing my breasts, his hand trapped between our bodies, I finally snap.
“Jason,” I gasp, and he lets out a growl of satisfaction that rumbles through me.
I unravel in his arms, and he fucks me through it, his steady strokes faltering. It’s not until I collapse back against the pillows that he takes his own pleasure, fucking me so hard the headboard rattles against the wall.
“Come for me.” I run my hand through his hair, and when I cup his cheek, he presses it into my palm.
Two thrusts later, his entire body tenses, the veins in his neck raised in stark relief. His cock jerks inside of me, emptying into the condom.
Pulling out and still breathing hard, he collapses beside me, his hand reaching out to thread his fingers through mine.
“That was…” I have no words.
“Yeah.”
We lay there in silence for a moment, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing.
After a few minutes, he rolls out of bed. I turn my head to watch as he pads to the bathroom, dealing with the condom and cleaning up. Even though I need to get up, I need to go home, I’m not ready for this to be over.
Jason returns with a wet washcloth, steam rising from the terrycloth. My stomach clenches at the idea he warmed it up for me, rather than running the cold tap. I go to take it, but he shakes his head, taking care to clean me up before tossing the washcloth onto the nightstand.
“C’mere,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms.
“I should go home.”
“Okay,” he says, tightening his arms around me. “Just not yet.”