CHAPTER ELEVEN
Raina
I nearly kneed the poor man in the head.
That first flick of his tongue on my clit almost sent me to the moon.
Then he did it again.
And again.
And again.
I squirmed on the bed, unable to make sense of the sensations crashing through me. Of the way his tongue—nimble, soft, and slippery—felt against my clit.
Sure, I masturbated. Gabrielle bought me my first vibrator shortly after Josiah died. But not one of the toys in my locked nightstand drawer felt like Jagger’s tongue did against my clit.
When he first flicked my clit, my eyes slammed shut, but curiosity overcame my fears and I pried one eye open, staring down my body at him and his face buried between my legs.
Fuck, that was hot.
He’d ditched his glasses and his eyes were closed, his nose pressed tight against my pubic bone as he swirled and licked.
Dropping my head back against the pillow, I shut my eyes again and let the pleasure take over.
He locked his lips around my clit and sucked, sending me to a whole new level and causing my hips to leap off the mattress on their very own.
I made a noise, desperate and raw—a rough, low edge to it that I didn’t intend as he sucked harder.
His hand pressed down on my lower stomach gently but forcefully, and he pulled up on the skin and muscle just a tad, which had me scaling to an all new elevation on pleasure mountain.
Dear lord. This was what I’d been missing all those years with my terrible husband. And the seven years since? What the fuck?
Then the remorse about ghosting Jagger at the café and missing out on this for so long hit me like a drop kick, and I almost lost that tingle to even keep going to the finish line.
Almost.
I made a lot of mistakes that day, and after that.
Missing out on this was my punishment.
My thoughts raged like angry thunderclouds desperately trying to twist into a tornado.
“Get out of your head, Elsa,” he growled, his lips buzzing against my swollen lips before going back in and sucking on my clit again.
“F-finger,” I stammered, my hand landing on the top of his head. “P-please.”
He didn’t reply, but slowly, gently, a finger probed my center, swirling around my entrance and driving me wild, before finally pushing in and curling upward.
“Oh god!” I whimpered. A pleading, desperate noise, as I rocked my hips.
He alternated between licking circles around my clit and sucking on it, all the while, lazily drawing his finger in and out of me. I writhed on the bed, my head thrashing, hair splayed wildly across the pillow. I was already close. Here I didn’t think I’d get there, and I was already close.
I didn’t want it to end though.
Not this quick. Not yet. Why’d he have to pump the accelerator and turn this into a Formula One race? Couldn’t we take the windy back roads? Treat it like a Sunday drive to nowhere in particular.
Latching onto my clit, he gave it another suck before pulling his finger free of me. Then he swapped the two. His thumb rubbed back and forth against my clit while his tongue dove inside of me.
I wasn’t at all prepared for the orgasm that hit me full speed.
My upper body lurched up off the bed, forcing me to balance on my elbow as the fingers of one hand dove into his hair and I gripped his scalp like I wanted to snatch him bald.
My entire core pulsed as intense wave after intense wave rushed through me, into my limbs, up into my breasts, and making my clit swell and pulse like it had a heartbeat of its own.
I held on tight to his hand, my other fingers bunching in the bottom sheet as my toes curled and Jagger just kept going. He never paused. Never stopped moving his tongue in and out, or his thumb on my clit.
One orgasm—one life-altering orgasm—turned into two. Just when I thought I was over the peak and sliding down the backside, a second climax caught me off guard until I was practically sobbing from the leg cramp and overwhelming pleasure. Everything buzzed with an electric charge.
Sometime between climax one and climax two, Jagger swapped his finger and tongue again—that might have been what pitched me into a second one so fast—and he curled that finger inside me, until a deep pressure made me feel like I needed to pee.
My orgasm only intensified after that, and he sucked harder on my clit until I thought it might fall off.
Based on the way he never slowed down, I thought for sure he was determined to give me a third, but I was too sensitive at that point. Carefully, I released his hair and tapped his head.
Dragging his mouth away, his eyes hazy and unfocused, and his beard thoroughly soaked, he peeled his body off the bed—a very noticeable erection in his pajama pants—and stalked off to the bathroom without saying a word.
He was in there longer than I expected. Which, of course, sent me spiraling down an anxiety-fueled vortex. What if I tasted bad? What if he regretted it? What if I had hurt him?
I put my underwear and pajama bottoms back on, then tugged the top sheet and duvet all the way up to my chin as I counted the ceiling tiles again, waiting for him to come out.
Surely, he would want something in return. As payment for … helping me.
He was a man. All men were selfish. They never did anything for a woman without expecting something in return. Josiah forced me to give him blowjobs when I had my period, because the idea of having sex with me while I was “unclean” repulsed him.
I never enjoyed it. It was a wifely duty. One I had to do. But Josiah’s cum tasted awful, and he was very aggressive, making me gag and hammering his nasty-smelling pubic hair into my face the closer he got to climax.
The man wasn’t a huge fan of bathing. He usually showered once or twice a week, which made sharing a bed with him, let alone having sex or doing anything sexual with him, something I dreaded.
The bathroom door finally opened, and Jagger stepped out, going over to the window seat again and gathering up the pillows.
He tossed them onto the floor, then went to the closet and retrieved a bunch of spare blankets.
I rolled over onto my side and watched him curiously.
He never glanced my way, but his movements didn’t come across as angry either.
After he grabbed the lantern from his nightstand, he made his way to the nest of pillows and blankets on the floor, and with a manly grunt, reclined down to his back.
His makeshift bed was at the foot of my bed, but more offset and perpendicular to the length of the so-called queen.
His head also put him in my direct line of sight.
I blinked at him as he tucked his arms under his head.
“What’s wrong, Rosebush?” he asked, obviously feeling my eyes on him.
“Do you not want … Aren’t you expecting … I can, if you …”
Rolling over to his side and propping his head on his elbow, which just made his arms bunch, he regarded me with amusement. “Finish a sentence, please.”
“Surely, you’re expecting reciprocation. Right? I mean, no man does that … I know you said, but come on. I … I can if you want me to. I’m offering.”
His gaze hit me hard, his eyes darkening, even in the dim light. “You think I would say something just to coerce you? To get what I wanted?”
I shrugged, regretting this entire exchange, but feigning nonchalance since it was the only shred of armor I had left. “All men are the same.”
“No, Raina, they’re not. I’m not like that.”
I swallowed.
His stare intensified. “I offered that to you with absolutely no strings attached. None. And I keep my word. Did you enjoy it?”
Like a child being chastised by a teacher, I nodded and looked away from him. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Good. That’s all that matters. For the record though, I also enjoyed it.”
My face was on fire again. “I’m sorry if I almost ripped out your hair.”
His smug smirk almost had me orgasming for a third time. “Don’t be sorry. I love it.”
Oh my god.
“We good?” he asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Okay then. Goodnight, Elsa Rosebush.”
Smiling at his nickname, I rolled over onto my back, and he seemed to do the same. “Goodnight, McEvoy.”
He turned off the lantern.
It was impossible to sleep after what had just happened between us.
After what he just gave me. Not only was it two of the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life, but it was a new faith in men.
Not all men were like Josiah. I was wrong.
That wasn’t something I admitted to often or easily, but I could admit that now.
I was wrong to assume Jagger was anything like Josiah.
A thought struck me in the head like a bolt of lightning. “Did you go into the bathroom and jerk it?”
He didn’t hesitate for a second. “Of course I did. I wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
My mouth dropped open before curling into a smile.
God, that was hot.
Silence settled between us again, but I was still too electrically charged.
I could barely keep my eyes closed, because every time I did, I just kept seeing Jagger with his head between my legs.
My eyes adjusted to the darkness enough that I was able to count the tiles on the ceiling again. I counted them six more times.
“Did you notice that fancy ceiling yesterday?” he asked, his deep voice like a sexy lion’s purr in the dark.
Chuckling, I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. “No. I guess I was too drunk.”
“Yeah … me too.”
With a deep sigh, I rolled my eyes. “It’s stupid that you’re on the floor. Get in the bed, McEvoy.”
“I’m fine.”
“No. You just … did that to me. We’re not enemies right now, and you slept in the bed last night. You’ll wreck your old man back sleeping on the floor. Get in the bed.”
“I’m fine, Elsa. Go to sleep.”
Growling, I tossed the covers off my body, climbed out of bed, and stalked over to his nest, standing over him. He blinked up at me, his arms tucked behind his head. “Get in the bed, Jagger .”
“I’m fine, Raina .”
“Get in the bed, Jagger ,” I gritted out.
“You get in the bed, Raina .” Oh, he was like a toddler talking back to me. I didn’t put up with it when Marco did it, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to put up with it when the Beard did it.
Growling again, I stomped my foot, reached down, and aggressively yanked the pillow out from under his head. The back of his skull hit the floor with a dull thunk .
“Ouch,” he grumbled. “Dammit, woman. Why the fuck did you do that?”
“I’m not going to be able to sleep knowing you’re on the floor wrecking your geriatric spine. We can sleep in the same bed. It will be fine. I promise not to shiv you in the middle of the night, if you promise to keep things G-rated.”
Humor glimmered in his eyes, even in the darkness. The sides crinkled and the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Get in the bed, McEvoy.” I plunked my hands on my hips and stared him down.
With an eye roll and a grunt, he held out his hand. “Help me up, Elsa.”
The man was nearly twice my weight, but he pretended that I actually helped pull him up. We returned the pillows to the window seat, and the blankets to the closet.
“You’re a stubborn, bossy, little cactus,” he said, shaking his head.
“So, are we sleeping head-to-toe? Seeing as you think I have nice feet and all. Maybe that’s your kink?
” He bobbed his eyebrows up and down, but managed to catch the pillow I hurled at his head.
“You’re never going to live down that comment, you know?
I’m going to pay a skywriter to advertise it in the clouds.
” He swept his palm high in the air. “ Raina Aaronson Loves Jagger McEvoy’s Feet . ”
“Maybe you should sleep on the floor,” I grumbled, hating that I was smiling as I slid under the covers. “Break your back. See if I care.”
“No takesies-backsies,” he said, peeling back the covers and climbing under as well. “You invited my sexy feet into the bed, and now they’re here to stay. I’ll even let you play footsies with them if you ask nicely.”
Pulling in a deep breath and digging down deep for the last remaining shred of my patience, I rolled over onto my side away from him. “Goodnight, McEvoy.”
“Goodnight, Elsa,” he replied, utter amusement coloring his words. “Thanks for my midnight snack.”
I whipped around back onto my back and smacked his chest.
“Ouch!” he said, chuckling. “Why do you keep hurting me? You really are a rosebush. All pretty and nice smelling, but up close, you’re out to maim.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I said, grinning like a fool.
“Go to sleep, Elsa.”
“You go to sleep, McEvoy.”
“I am. But someone won’t shut up.”
“I’ll shut you up.” I yanked the pillow out from under my head and hit him with it, but the man was not only bigger than me, but way stronger too and I found myself pinned down, his arms on my wrists above my head, his body hovering over mine as we both laughed.
Our chests heaved as our eyes snagged in the darkness. The laughter stopped.
I swallowed, and he studied me with such open fascination I absolutely did not deserve.
I blinked up at the man who just two days ago I may not have pissed on if he caught fire. Now, all I wanted was for him to kiss me. To feel those talented lips on my lips. To feel his arms around me.
His eyes continued to search my face with a long, lingering look before that charming, slightly crooked smile chased all the wickedness away like shadows at high noon.
A nervous flutter behind my ribcage had my breath hitching.
That teasing smile was still there, like there was some secret joke only the two of us were in on.
A noise. A single, low syllable, from the deepest depths of his chest, had my toes curling.
I felt it more than I heard it. His chest heaved against mine as he held himself over me, the solitary rumble vibrating into my spine, down to my curled toes, and pausing in that throbbing spot between my legs.
I licked my lips, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.
Kiss me, goddammit.
But a branch against the window outside broke the trance between us, pulling our attention. He cleared his throat and blinked before releasing my wrists and sitting back, giving me my pillow. “We should really get some sleep, Elsa. Who knows what adventures tomorrow has in store for us.”
Disappointment swamped me as he rolled over, pulling the duvet cover up over his bulky shoulder when he positioned himself on his side.
“Right,” I whispered to his back. “Hopefully we get to go home.”
“’Night, Elsa.”
I exhaled through my mouth. “Goodnight …”