Chapter 7 #2
And Jared is totally focused on what makes me feel good.
I’d always felt like my job in bed was to help the guy I was with fulfill their fantasies, and I’d never stopped to question it.
But Jared is the first guy who really seems interested in observing all of my responses to everything he does, like he’s filing away what makes me moan versus what makes me beg.
His mouth travels down my chest slowly enough that I want to ask if he’s getting paid by the hour.
But then he reaches my nipple and conducts the world’s most thorough investigation into what makes me lose my mind.
Teeth first—gentle but enough to make me practically levitate off the bed.
Then, because he’s clearly evil, he blows cool air across it, and my entire body breaks out in goose bumps.
When he finally—finally—uses his tongue, hot and wet, I grab his hair like it’s a lifeline.
I’m definitely pulling too hard, but my motor control is shot to hell.
“Good?” he asks, and oh my god, he’s looking up at me through his lashes with those dark-brown eyes, like he genuinely needs to know, like my opinion matters, like he’s cataloging what I like for future reference.
Future reference.
Like there’s going to be a future where he keeps touching me like this. The thought makes my chest seize with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
“Very good,” I manage, though the words come out embarrassingly breathy.
“Well, you did say your nipples weren’t entirely useless.”
“They’re definitely not useless when you’re doing that to them.”
He continues to explore my body like he’s aiming for a PhD in Felix Studies and this is his dissertation research.
Every touch feels deliberate, like he genuinely wants to know what happens when he drags his nails lightly down my sides—I shiver and press closer—or when he bites gently at the junction of my neck and shoulder—I make a sound that might be his name or might be gibberish.
“Tell me what you want,” he says, and that’s new too. Usually, guys tell me what they want, and I go along with it because that’s what pretty boys do, right? But Jared actually seems to want an honest answer out of me.
“Just…keep touching me,” I say, which feels too honest, too vulnerable, but he smiles like I’ve given him exactly what he wanted to hear.
And he does. He finds a spot just inside my hip bone that makes me squirm when he presses his thumb there.
The tender skin behind my knee that I didn’t even know was sensitive until his fingers ghost over it.
The place where my thigh meets my groin, which produces a sound from me I’ll definitely deny later.
It’s like every cell in my body is waking up from a long hibernation, stretching and remembering what it feels like to be alive, truly alive, not just existing but burning bright.
When he finally starts opening me up, I’m already breathless, almost in a dream-like state.
Jared takes his time, watching my face, adjusting his angle when my breath hitches, going slower when I tense, deeper when I relax into it. He finds my prostate and teases me to the point where I’m a babbling, squirming mess.
It’s almost overwhelming being the sole focus of someone’s attention like this, having someone care more about what I’m feeling than about getting to the main event.
“I need you now,” I pant desperately, and Jared’s eyes darken.
I’m expecting it to be like our first night together, when he did that incredible flipping me onto my stomach move.
But instead, he puts on a condom and lines himself up with me spread out beneath him like an offering, my knees up high.
“This okay?” he asks, his dark eyes not leaving my face.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “Just hurry up.”
He gives a wolfish grin. “Someone’s impatient.”
Have I ever had so much eye contact while someone is easing inside me? I feel pinned by Jared’s gaze, unable to wrench my eyes from his.
Weirdly, something about this feels like my first time again, that same mix of nervousness and want. Except now there’s also this terrifying tenderness that makes my chest ache.
He goes slowly, watching my face for permission to continue, even though I’m already pulling him closer by wrapping my legs around him, begging with my body.
The stretch burns in the best way, that perfect edge between too much and not enough.
He stays still once he’s fully inside me, his forehead dropping to rest against mine while we both adjust. I can feel his heartbeat everywhere we’re connected, rapid and strong.
It matches the frantic rhythm of my own.
“God, you feel incredible,” he murmurs, and the reverence in his voice turns my throat dry.
When he starts to move, it’s devastatingly slow. Each withdrawal makes me want to cry from the loss, each return makes me see stars. His hands frame my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones while he sets a rhythm that’s going to kill me with kindness.
His hands slide down to grip my hips, holding me steady as he picks up the pace. The new angle makes me gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. He notices immediately, repeating the same movement, watching my face.
Like he’s making it his life’s mission to take me apart piece by piece.
The room fills with the sound of our breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, and the embarrassing noises I can’t seem to stop making.
He gets his hand between us but keeps his grip on my cock loose, just enough to provide dual sources of pleasure but not quite enough to tip me over the edge.
I’m dissolving into sensation, losing track of where I end and he begins.
My legs are shaking, my whole body trembling like I’m about to fly apart at the seams. When I’m right on the edge, so close I can taste it, Jared suddenly sits back on his heels, his hands sliding under my thighs.
He pulls me onto his lap and continues to thrust into me, lighting up that spot inside me, his grip tightening around my cock, stroking me perfectly.
“Oh my god, yes, like that, keep going.” An uncontrollable stream of words is spilling from my mouth, and for once, I don’t care about filtering myself, don’t care what I’m revealing. “Jared, god, right there, you’re incredible. How are you so good at this? Please, don’t stop.”
Everything builds and builds. When I finally come, it’s with enough force that I’m pretty sure I leave nail marks on his shoulders. I might also say something embarrassing, but my brain has temporarily left the building, so I can’t be held responsible.
I feel him fall apart right after me, his face buried in my neck as he repeats my name against my skin. Not “fuck” or “god” but “Felix, Felix, Felix” like my name is the only thing he can remember. Like maybe I’ve broken his brain as much as he’s broken mine.
I collapse onto the mattress, trying to get my breath back.
“You almost killed me,” I rasp.
Jared is breathless and gorgeous, smiling at me as he reaches over to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m guessing I should take that as a compliment?”
“Luckily, you didn’t kill me because I’m not sure if I want my last words to be ‘yeah, right there, that’s it, give me your huge cock….’”
He laughs, and the sound rumbles through his chest, wrapping around me like a blanket.
“Actually, that would be an interesting subset of last words. Last words said in a sexual context,” I say.
“What about ‘Wait, is that camera still recording?’” Jared offers.
I can’t help laughing at that. “Maybe ‘Damn, I really should have mentioned my latex allergy.’”
“Or ‘I should have paid extra for the reinforced bedframe.’”
I settle in to rest my head on Jared’s chest as he strokes my hair and we continue to come up with funny last words.
I love how each time I make him laugh, I can feel the vibrations through me.
It’s like his joy is traveling through my bones, rearranging my molecules into a happier pattern than they’ve been in for months.