Chapter 25 Yes. Please. #2
No, but I will be. “Yeah,” I murmur. “Just nervous.”
His mouth tugs into a crooked smile. “Didn’t think you could get nervous.”
“I’m just nervous you won’t be as good in bed as you think you are.”
That makes his brow lift, mischief flaring in his gaze as he reaches for the bottle. “Oh, really?”
His gaze locks with mine as he warms the liquid between his fingers, eyes dark with focus. Slowly, he slides his hand beneath my dress.
The first glide of his fingers is gentle, a teasing press that makes my breath catch.
His eyes stay on mine, watching, adjusting, learning, the intensity making my pulse stutter.
Then he tilts his fingers—
And the sensation changes.
Not just good.
Perfect.
A rhythm builds, my spine arching, lips parting on a shaky exhale, pleasure blooming like fire under my skin.
His groan is low, rough with restraint.
“So good,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “Perfect. Like you were made for me.”
I feel it, the truth in his words.
For the first time, the past falls away.
Only this exists.
The heat of his palm. The rough touches. The way he watches me, like every reaction is sacred.
He captures my mouth, tongue coaxing mine into a lazy, intoxicating rhythm.
I melt into him, arms looped around his neck, fingers threading through his hair.
His weight presses into me—hot, hard, ready—a promise against the barrier of his jeans. His forehead rests against mine, breath uneven, control fraying.
Jacob stands in one swift motion, taking my dress with him, stripping me bare except for my black lace thong and heels.
His body locks.
Muscles flex, chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths. Pupils blow wide, lethal want etched in every line of him.
I can see the battle, restraint against desperation, the urge to slam inside me warring with his need to take his time.
His gaze meets mine after what feels like forever, though it’s only seconds.
His voice is rough, wrecked. “I will never make you wait again.”
He pulls my legs wide, his grip bruising, a silent warning. Then he descends, lips tracing a slow path down my body.
He lingers at my breasts, lips wrapping around a nipple, tongue flicking, lapping, while his hand pinches the other, a sharp pleasure that has me writhing beneath him.
“That’s what you get for teasing me,” he murmurs against flushed skin.
Mental note: tease him more often.
I’m about to retort when his mouth keeps moving, sliding lower, lower—
Until his lips press a kiss through the lace of my thong, right over my throbbing center.
A moan escapes me.
He groans, the vibration sinking into me, rattling bone. “You smell so fucking destructive.
Then he kneels.
His fingers hook the thin fabric, tugging it aside before his tongue finds me—hot, slick, devouring.
My head slams back into the mattress, spine arching at the first stroke of his tongue.
He settles in, throwing my legs over his shoulders, my heels digging into his back as he eats me like I’m the main course.
A rough groan vibrates against my clit, sending shockwaves through me. He doesn’t let up—licking, sucking like he’ll die if he doesn’t wring me dry.
I’ve never come from this alone before.
But Jacob is relentless.
Heat pools low, coiling tight, unforgiving. Darkness creeps at the edges of my vision.
Then—he pulls away, mouth leaving me with a slick pop, and before I can protest, he slides two lubed fingers inside me, deep, curling just right.
“Fuck.” My voice breaks, thighs trembling.
He kisses along my inner thigh, murmuring soft worship, tracing delicate paths with his lips. I’m right there, so close, legs fighting to stay open, not to crush his hand.
Then he presses his thumb hard to my clit.
I break.
His name rips from my throat in a choked, ragged cry as my body shatters, pleasure crashing so hard I forget to breathe.
My thighs quake, my pussy clenching around his fingers, dragging out every last pulse as he works me through it, coaxing every drop from my overstimulated body.
I’m a sweaty mess, barely clinging to reality.
He presses one last kiss to my inner thigh before gently pulling out his fingers. Then, fuck me, he leans down, brushes a featherlight kiss over my still-sensitive clit, making me jolt.
Jacob chuckles, straightening to his full height. “Good girl.”
Then he drags his tongue over his fingers in deliberate licks, eyes locked on mine.
Holy shit.
Heat flares again, rekindling despite the fact I should be a heap of jelly.
I prop myself on my elbows. “Your turn. Take off your clothes.”
Jacob grins. “So bossy.”
My tongue drags over my bottom lip. “No, honey. Just want to return the favor.”
His brows lift, amusement sparking in his darkened gaze. “Well, in that case . . .” He winks, grips the back of his shirt, and yanks it over his head—golden skin, hard muscle, and intricate ink revealed in one motion.
I sit up, my fingers itching to trace the art carved into his skin.
Twisting roots, sprawling trees, delicate flowers intertwined with woodland creatures. Vibrant colors shaded with exquisite detail—a story painted across his body.
I press a kiss to his chest, trailing lower, following the ink, tasting the heat of his skin as my lips glide down his stomach.
By the time I reach his jeans, I can feel the tension in him, the way muscle tightens beneath my touch.
I pop the button, unzipping slowly, dragging his jeans and briefs down, finally freeing him.
Damn.
He’s thick, hard, flushed, like he’s just as desperate for me as I am for him.
Beautiful. Dangerous. Mine.
My fingers wrap around him, stroking, pumping, savoring the way his breath hitches, the way his jaw clenches, the way every part of him reacts.
Jacob hisses, his head tipping back, a guttural growl tearing from his throat. “Lyla.” He says my name like a prayer.
The foil crinkles in his hands, a promise. That cocky, teasing smirk curves his lips, and it hits harder than his touch.
“Never thought I’d miss the sound of foil tearing,” he murmurs.
I laugh, breathless, warmth blooming in my chest. The tenderness beneath the heat makes something deep inside me ache, makes the truth I’m hiding feel heavier. The closer I pull him, the more it feels like I’m setting fire to something I’m desperate to keep.
Then his expression shifts.
Softens.
“As much as I’d love to come in your mouth,” he says, voice low and rough, “I want to hear your moans the first time I enter you.”
My stomach tightens, heat surging through my veins.
He grabs the lube, pops it open with his teeth—God, that’s hot—and squeezes it into his palm, warming it before sliding his hand down, parting my thighs, coating me with slow strokes.
I whimper, thighs quivering, needing more.
He watches everything, how I glisten, how my hips arch to meet him, how I can’t hide the way my body responds to him.
The intimacy is suffocating and intoxicating. I want to drown in it, even knowing that if he knew what I’ve done, why I joined them, he’d rip this away in a heartbeat.
He pours more lube into his palm, stroking himself, slicking every inch until he’s impossibly harder.
His gaze darkens, chest rising and falling with barely leashed control. “Ready?” His voice is strained.
I nod, wanting him more than air. And hating myself for thinking that when I’m one word away from destroying it.
Jacob moves over me, bracing on his forearms, his body solid above mine. Then he pushes inside, stretching me open, filling me inch by inch.
Pressure. Ache. Perfect.
I exhale sharply, adjusting, taking him in, and his lips brush mine, whispering soft encouragements.
“That’s it,” he murmurs, voice rough. “Fuck, Lyla. You feel so good.”
We move together like it’s muscle memory, like this is where we were meant to be all along.
His hands map me, fingertips tracing my sides, a thumb skimming my jaw before tilting my chin up for another deep, searing kiss. He reads every shift, every breath, adjusting when I tense, groaning when I moan his name.
The cramped camper turns it into something almost unbearably intimate—the bed creaking, our breaths mingling in the close air.
Outside is ruin. Inside is life. Inside is him. Inside is this.
And then it hits.
That heated coil, winding tight, pulling me toward the edge.
“Lyla,” he groans, grip tightening on my hip.
Then he throws my leg over his shoulder, sinking deeper, hitting that devastating spot.
“I need you to let go. Right.” Hard thrust. “Fucking.” Hard thrust. “Now.” Hard thrust.
His hand slides between us, fingers pressing to my clit, rubbing fast, precise circles. White-hot pleasure floods me, my body clenching around him.
“Yes. Yes, Jacob. More. More.” My hands brace against the wall above my head, driving him deeper.
His mouth drops to my nipple, nipping just hard enough to make me jolt, then soothing with his tongue—pain and pleasure blending until I break.
Pleasure detonates, ripping a raw scream from me.
Jacob follows, shuddering, my name breaking from his lips as his body convulses, his release dragging mine out until I’m limp beneath him.
He buries his face against my neck, breath hot, lips dragging open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone.
I shiver, still feeling the aftershocks, still clinging to the shape of him inside me.
For a long moment, we don’t move.
I feel him everywhere—his weight, his warmth, the way his fingers draw lazy circles on my hip without thought.
He shifts just enough to meet my gaze, thumb brushing my cheek. His expression is soft in a way that destroys me.
Then he grins, lazy, satisfied, completely mine.
And now I know exactly what I stand to lose. The terror of it is worse than any monster waiting outside these walls.