Chapter 17 Liam
SEVENTEEN
LIAM
Juniper’s back hits the bookshelf with a soft thud, the paperback in her hand dropping to the floor, forgotten.
This kiss is different from our tongues fighting over candy.
It’s not the teasing kind. This one is all hands and hunger.
All frustration and unfinished business.
Her fingers fist in my sweater, her legs parting just enough for me to slide one of mine between hers, snug and intentional.
She rocks forward without even thinking and her legs clench tighter around my thigh.
She gasps, but it turns into a whimper when my hands grip her ass and pull her harder against me.
“Liam. Oh, god.”
I wanted to kiss her, but dragging her sensitive clit roughly across my denim-clad thigh seems like a good idea, too.
“You like that, Firefly?” I nip at the corner of her mouth.
“Yes.”
“Well, I like these skirts of yours.” I let my hands dive beneath said skirt and grip her through the cashmere leggings beneath. “I like how easy they make it to slip my hand beneath and touch you. Just like this.”
We lose ourselves in it. Kissing like we’re teenagers who just discovered how good it feels. Open mouths, hot breaths. Her nails scrape through my hair and I grip her waist tighter, rolling my hips into hers without shame.
She’s arching against me now, chasing friction like it’s air, and it makes something sharp and possessive snap loose in my chest.
“You’re mine,” I mutter, not even meaning to say it out loud.
She moans, biting my bottom lip, then says, “You wish.”
She’s all stubborn contradictions, but she’s pulling me closer, not pushing me away, so I’ll take it.
Her body rolls against mine like she’s past the point of caring. When she presses down again, a soft, strangled noise escapes her throat that nearly undoes me.
“Right there?” I whisper against her ear.
She nods, fast and desperate. Her hands are gripping my sweater like she needs something to hang on to.
“Use it then,” I rasp, dragging my mouth down her neck, kissing along her jaw. “Ride my thigh, Firefly. I want to feel you come just like this.”
“I—I can’t—” she chokes out.
“Yes, you can, baby,” I encourage against her ear. “Grind that sweet cunt on my thigh until you shatter.”
Her breath stutters at the command. “Liam—”
“You’re so close already, aren’t you?” My hands grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements with just enough pressure to make her whimper. “Don’t hold back now.”
Her body goes taut, breath catching, and then she falls apart against me with a soft, bitten-off cry, still grinding down against me like she never wants the feeling to end.
I hold her through it, chest heaving, my own body so wired I’m half afraid I’ll lose it, too.
But watching her fall apart for me, because of me, is more satisfying than anything else.
When her legs finally stop trembling, I kiss the corner of her mouth and whisper, “You’re mine, Juniper. Whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”