Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Jay
We barely make it back to my car, and Liv is kissing me.
Her hands fist in my jacket, pulling me closer, and all I can do is let her, because there’s no part of me that doesn’t want this.
It’s messy, rushed, sloppy, and so fucking hot, and when she finally pulls back, she’s grinning against my mouth.
“Sorry,” she whispers, though she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
I brush my thumb over her cheek, already leaning back in. “Don’t be.”
I take her mouth again, running my tongue along her lips, and she opens so willingly for me. Every time I think I’ve had enough of her, it turns out I haven’t even scratched the surface.
When she finally breaks away, we’re both breathing hard, our foreheads pressed together, her smile stretched wide and a little wild.
“Friendsgiving was a success,” she pants.
“It was. Finn’s stuffing was good.” I run my hands around her waist, pulling her closer again, not missing the hitch in her breath.
“And the turkey…” Her hands wind around my neck, threading into my hair.
“The turkey was great. And the dessert.”
“Jay?”
“Hm?” I say, rubbing the tip of my nose to hers.
“I think I’m done talking about food.”
“Thank god.” I dive in again, taking more from her, feeling her under my palms as she pushes against me. There’s something to be said for making out with a girl under the cover of darkness and streetlamps. It makes me feel like I’m in high school again.
She pulls back, and I try to chase her. “We need to get home before I can’t stop.”
“My car is right here.”
“Jay Oliviera, are you saying that you want to fuck me in your car?”
My hands tighten at her waist before I can stop them, the challenge in her voice sparking straight through me. “I’m saying,” I murmur, leaning in until my lips brush hers, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t care where we are.”
She throws her head back and releases the biggest cackle before looking at me again. “In that case, then, let’s go home. I want you all to myself.”
She pecks me once more and leaves me wanting; she’s really freaking good at that.
The drive is short but feels endless. Liv’s fingers trace lazy patterns on my thigh, crawl up my arm, skim the nape of my neck like she knows every place that makes me twitch.
I can’t even look at her without picturing her spread out beneath me, so I grip the wheel tighter and count the damn streetlights.
The second we’re inside, she pushes me against the door, her mouth finding mine again. I let her have it, let her climb into my space, because there’s no part of me that doesn’t crave her like this.
“You feeling horny, gatinha?” I mutter when she nips at my lip.
“Pretty sure that’s your fault.” She’s smiling smugly.
I walk her back step by step until her legs hit the couch, and she sinks down, pulling me with her. My weight settles between her thighs, and she arches into me like she’s been waiting all night. Welcome to the club.
Her hands roam everywhere—my shirt, my shoulders, my hair. She’s bold, reckless, and I love it. She’s trying to grind into my thigh, get any kind of friction I know she needs, but I hold back, loving the frustration building beneath me.
“I need…” she stutters, breath ragged as she rolls her nipple between her fingers.
I catch her wandering hand and bring it lower, slipping it beneath the band of her leggings myself. Her lips part on a gasp, and I smirk. “There. Better, isn’t it?”
She tilts her head, pupils blown, but somehow, she still manages to give me that trademark sass that I’ve noticed make a comeback lately. “What if I like doing it myself?”
“Then let me watch.” I lace my fingers over hers, pressing her hand deeper between her thighs. My palm covers hers completely, guiding every twitch, every circle. “Better yet, let me help.”
Her eyes flutter closed as her breath ghosts over my lips, the scent of sweet wine engulfing me as she nods slightly.
“I could get used to this version of you that behaves,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her jaw as I set the pace, dragging her fingers exactly where I want them.
“Just like that.” Her moan spills into my mouth as I move, needy and desperate, her body already moving in time with the rhythm I set. She pushes harder against me, desperate for more, but I ease her back, slowing her fingers until she lets out a breathless whine.
“You want it fast, don’t you?” I taunt, letting my voice deepen with my desire for her. I speed her up suddenly, driving her hand harder, and her hips buck beneath me, curses falling like whispers from her mouth.
But just as her eyes flutter shut, right when her breath stutters into a ragged rhythm, I rein her in. My grip tightens, pulling her back into a slow, cruel drag that makes her squirm.
“Or maybe you like it slow,” I whisper against her ear, letting my lips ghost over her skin, never giving her the pressure she craves. “Drawn out until you can’t take it anymore.”
Her nails dig into my arm, a frustrated sob escaping her throat. She’s trembling, caught between pleasure and fury, and I can feel the need radiating off her in waves.
“Which is it, Liv?” I ask, guiding her hand in one long, aching circle, then switching it into quick, relentless strokes that make her cry out. “Do I take my time with you…” I slow again, excruciatingly. “…or do I make you fall apart right now?”
Her head tips back, lips parted, chest heaving like she can’t get enough air.
She tries to chase the faster pace, tries to grind against me, but I hold her still, forcing her to feel only what I give.
Her whimpers are breaking, and the sound of them curls heat so deep in me I nearly lose control and give her what she needs.
She cracks one eye open, defiant. “I can make myself come perfectly fine.”
The corner of my mouth kicks up, and the sound that leaves me is more a huff than a laugh. “Is that right?” I press her hand harder, force her body to respond, and she growls like the adorable kitten she is.
Her mouth falls open, her whimper cut short by my lips brushing hers, my tongue dragging across her lower lip. I stop my guidance abruptly, holding her there, trembling.
“Who’s making you feel good right now, Liv?” My voice is rough, barely above a whisper.
Her eyes blaze with resistance. “I am.”
“Wrong answer.” My lips graze her ear, the edge of my teeth catching her lobe. “Try again.”
She squirms, desperate, trying to move her wrist. I don’t let her.
“It might be your finger, Olivia,” I say, dragging the words out, “but you’ve been listening to me this whole time. I’m the one telling you where to touch, how fast, how deep. So who’s really making you come?”
Her body shudders under mine, torn between pride and surrender. I wait, hovering, letting the silence stretch until it’s unbearable.
“You love to talk, Liv. Say it, or I’ll find a way to keep that mouth busy.”
She sucks in a thin, trembling breath. “You are.”
I smile against her neck, heat curling in my gut.
“Damn straight.” And then I push her hand out of the way and thrust two fingers inside her, crooking them, keeping my thumb on her clit, applying pressure.
“Be loud. Make noise for me. I wanna hear it. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be anyone but you when we’re together.
I want every single breath to whimper my name when you come. ”
Every thrust of my fingers drags her higher, every press of my thumb makes her cry out louder.
“Jay—” she gasps, voice breaking, and the sound of my name on her lips is as close as I’ll get to heaven.
“That’s it,” I rasp, my mouth at her throat, kissing, biting, claiming everything. “Say it again.”
Her nails claw at my shoulders in the way she loves to do, her hips bucking helplessly as her moans dissolve into a string of curses and pleas. And then she comes apart, back arching, mouth open wide as she sobs my name the way I told her to.
I don’t stop until her body goes lax beneath me.
When I draw my hand away, slick and glistening in the low light, I don’t rush to wipe it on anything. Instead, I hold her gaze as I bring my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean, one by one.
I let my tongue drag slowly over the last knuckle, savoring her, before I lean in to kiss her swollen lips.
“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted,” I murmur against her mouth, my forehead pressed to hers.
Her laugh is broken, breathless, but her eyes shine as her fingers fist in my shirt like she’ll never let me go.
It’s the next morning when that feeling of contentment creeps in, and I’m sated with another night of her, and for the first time, I remember that this has an expiration date, and I wish it didn’t.