Chapter 38 Violet #2
“You didn’t hurt me last time,” I remind him.
“I had more control last time.”
“And tonight’s different?” I ask with a laugh.
“Tonight, I can still taste you on my tongue.”
I bite the edge of my lip, more flattered than I have any right to be.
But seriously. I’ve heard the stories. Guys who refuse to go down on a girl.
And then there’s Jagger. The man acts like eating me out is a pleasure.
It’s hot as hell and brings with it a strange air of confidence I’m not used to having.
Not when hooking up with someone. It makes me feel…
sexy. Desired. Wanted. I like it. A lot, actually.
Slowly, I climb on top of Jagger, my knees on either side of his thighs. Slipping my hand between us, I squeeze his erection. It pulses on contact and his eyes roll back.
“Enough teasing, Little Thief.”
“Is this teasing?” I challenge, running my palm along his shaft in a slow, deliberate stroke. “I thought you wanted me to take the lead.”
“Vi,” he warns.
With a smile, I press the mushroom head against my entrance just like before, but I don’t let him in. Not yet.
“You like this, don’t you?” He analyzes my expression like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. “Being in control.”
I lower myself onto him an inch, my jaw dropping at the achingly delicious stretch. Okay, yeah, it feels amazing. “Maybe,” I breathe out.
He shifts his hips slightly, pushing in another inch, and I gasp even more.
His smiles. “Fucking beautiful.”
Seating myself the rest of the way, I press my hand to his chest, and take in a slow, controlled breath, giving myself a moment to adjust to the intrusion because, ya know, he’s not small, and despite The Drift’s rumors of being filled with sluts, not all of us have a lot of sexual experience.
So, sue me. After a few seconds, my walls relax, and I shift my hips, testing the waters.
The subtle movement makes Jagger’s head roll back, and his hands find my waist. I can’t decide if he’s wanting to keep me in place or pick me up and rut into me like a wild beast. It’s sexy to see.
Jagger Harden attempting to restrain himself.
“You don’t usually give up control, do you?” The realization makes me smile, pulling another low laugh from the man beneath me.
“Not ever,” he admits. “Think it’s a Harden trait.”
“I believe it.” Placing my hands on his, I roll my hips against him again, lifting up and lowering myself in a fluid motion.
I’ve never really been on top. That probably sounds a little pathetic, but it’s true.
It’s always been, wham, bam, thank you, ma’am.
Being like this with someone, especially someone as domineering as Jagger, it’s…
intriguing. And a little intimidating. But intriguing, nonetheless.
Honestly, it only makes me want to please him more.
And thanks to how openly he enjoyed eating me out, I feel like I have the power to do exactly that.
To please him. Jagger Harden. The idea alone is wild.
So I do it again. Rolling my hips against him as I lift, then lower myself once more.
He looks down, watching himself disappear inside me, his cock twitching with the torturously slow movement.
Leaning back a bit, I move his hand to the apex of my thighs so he can feel where we’re connecting.
When his thumb rubs in a gentle circle against my clit, my lips part in pleasure.
“Okay, yes,” I decide. “Definitely keep doing that.”
With another low laugh, he murmurs, “Yes, ma’am.”
Ma’am? Never thought I’d like the term in bed, but when it rolls off Jagger’s tongue, I can’t help but preen like he just called me a good girl.
Seriously, what is wrong with me? Scratch that.
I don’t even care. As long as the familiar ache continues to build inside of me, he can call me whatever he wants.
I ride Jagger’s cock, chasing the high I know is just around the corner.
The intrusion is so deep, it’s almost hard to breathe, but then his thumb massages the little bundle of nerves again, and the pleasure sparks until I’m shamelessly moaning.
Over and over, I rub myself against him.
Up and down. Shallow and deep. I can feel him everywhere.
His free hand slides under my shirt, palming my small breast and pinching my nipple until I swear I can feel it in my clit.
How does he feel this good? How does he know exactly what to do to me?
My body rolls forward, and I press my forehead to his, my breath coming in ragged uneven breaths.
“Tell me you’re close,” I beg.
“Ready whenever you are, Little Thief.” He bends down, sucking on my throat and hitting so deep inside of me, I come on a scream, clawing at his shoulders, my body spasming over and over again around him.
When his cock jerks inside of me, his teeth bite into my neck, proving he’s coming, too, and it’s the most delicious feeling in the world.
Sucking on the sensitive skin, he catches his breath, his large hands gently cupping my ass.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
I laugh. “Yeah.”
With another quick kiss to my throat, he lifts me off him.
“Be right back.” He disappears into the connecting bathroom, then returns with a warm wash cloth, the condom missing, and his heavy cock hanging between his bare thighs.
Seriously, that thing is…yeah, I didn’t think dicks could be attractive, but that guy?
My mouth waters, and I press my thighs together.
It twitches when he catches me staring at him, and he shakes his head. “Careful, Little Thief. You keep looking at me like this, and I’ll make you ride me all over again.”
“Yeah, sounds like a real chore,” I quip.
Amusement plays at the edge of his mouth as he climbs onto the bed. “Give it a few. You might want the break.”
He’s probably right. I can already tell I’m going to be sore. The problem is, it’s a good sore. A reminder. That whatever we just shared on this bed? It really happened. Me and Jagger? We really happened. Again. Will this ever not feel surreal?
“Here.”
Jagger attempts to open my legs, but I close them shyly. “I can do it—”
“I had my mouth on you ten minutes ago,” he reminds me. “I think I can clean you up.”
Well, damn. When he puts it that way, the man makes a good point.
Biting the edge of my lip, I let my legs go limp, and he sweeps the warm washcloth against my core. A quiet hiss slips through my teeth. He’s right. I’m definitely sore.
“Told you,” he mutters. “Want me to pour you a hot bath?”
A hot bath? Who is this man? I would’ve never pegged Jagger as being someone who’s thoughtful.
Maybe it makes me an ass in the whole, assume makes an ass out of you and me bit, but still.
Jagger Harden? Offering to draw me a hot bath in his billion dollar mansion?
Okay, billion dollars is probably a stretch, too, but I digress.
“I’m okay,” I murmur.
“Okay.” He tosses the washcloth across the room.
It lands with a wet plop on the bathroom tile, and he leans back, tugging me into his side.
It should feel weird. And maybe it still does?
Or maybe it’s my upbringing saying it’s weird.
This Harden man is supposed to kick me out now that he’s gotten what he wanted.
Instead, he’s keeping me tucked in his bed, just like last time.
What is this life?
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
It’s a good question. A scary question. One I’m a little too nervous to answer. Afraid it’ll scare him off or…I don’t know. Ruin the moment, I guess?
Burrowing closer to him, I whisper, “I’m thinking…I like you like this.”
“Like what?” His low, sexy voice rumbles through his chest.
The vibration against my cheek makes me smile. “Relaxed. Off-guard. Open.”
“Pretty sure I’m the one who pried you open, but sure.”
I smile even wider against his chest, then lift my head and kiss his warm skin, settling against him.
“What made you get this one?” I trace a compass with my fingertip.
It’s beautiful and sexy as hell. He lifts his head from the pillow, looking down at the tattoo in question before shifting to get comfortable again on his mattress.
“There’s a kickass artist who opened a shop here a while back. Name’s Raine. I followed her work online for a couple years until she posted a few openings to get the new shop some traction, so I signed up. Told her to draw whatever she wanted.”
“You didn’t even care?” I ask.
“Nah. Everything I saw of the girl’s work was incredible, so I wasn’t worried.”
I examine the compass a bit more, taking in the swirling ink and how she managed to combine thick, bold shadows with delicate lines. It’s beautiful. “She did a good job,” I murmur.
“Yeah, she did.”
My brows furrow as I continue tracing the tattoo with my fingertip.
She had to have touched him like this. Felt his bare skin.
They probably talked for hours. I never considered how intimate it can be.
Getting a tattoo from someone. But thinking about it now, I don’t know.
Maybe if I had a tattoo and experienced it hands-on, I wouldn’t feel the way I am right now, but I can’t help myself.
It shouldn’t matter. Jagger’s probably been with a hundred women.
Who cares if his tattoo artist’s name is on the list? Unless…
“Do you still talk to her?” I ask.
“Who?”
“The tattoo artist.”
“Every once in a while. Why?"
“Just curious how deep the relationship goes,” I offer, unsure what else to say.
Jagger stays quiet, then sits up, dragging me with him as if I’m his own personal rag doll until I’m straddling him again. Once I’m situated, he asks, “Are you jealous?”
Jealous? Is that what I’m feeling? The realization catches me off guard.
Avoiding his gaze, and feeling way too vulnerable for my own good, I stare at his broad chest, and lie, “No?”
“You sure?”
“I mean, you talk about this girl like she hung the moon or something—”
Amusement rolls through his chest, and I tear my focus from his right pectoral to look him in the eye. “You think this is funny?”
“Seeing you jealous?” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “Not funny. Hot as hell.”
“Then why did you laugh?” I ask.
His hand cups my cheek. “I was laughing at the idea of crossing a line with Raine and pissing off her husband.” He laughs even harder. “I know I have a death wish, but I’m not that stupid.”
“What do you mean?”
“Raine, the artist,” he clarifies, “has been married to a guy from the NHL for years. She’s constantly posting them together, and if I had goals of what I’d want a relationship to look like, it would be hers.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” His smile softens as he stares up at me. His head propped on the pillow. He looks so…carefree. So…not Jagger. Or at least, not the one I first met.
“What else would you want in a relationship?” I ask. I can’t help it. I’m curious.
“I dunno. Someone to just…be with, I guess. No drama. No work—”
I snort. “Well, then I guess I’ll be going.”
I start to climb off him, but Jagger tugs me against him again. “It’s not work with you.”
The man can’t be serious. No work? No drama? Since the moment I snuck into his house and asked for my money back, our lives have been filled to the brim with drama. And work. So much so, I might as well see myself to the door right here, right now. “So this is easy?” I challenge.
“What I feel for you?” He shrugs. “Yeah. It feels as easy as breathing. It’s the other shit that gets hard.
” Gripping the back of my neck, he tugs me into him and kisses the crown of my head.
“But here’s the thing, Little Thief. When you’re around, you make the other shit feel easier, too, not harder. ”
You make the other shit feel easier, too, not harder.
Is that what I’m feeling with this man? Ease?
I’ve been fighting my whole life. For food.
Clothing. School. Then, in walked my dark knight, sweeping me off my feet after being kneed in the balls despite my best effort to keep my distance.
It’s a scary thought. Letting someone in.
Trusting someone enough to let them in. To let them see the real you.
The tension in my muscles oozes into contentment, albeit a little forced. But hey, I’m a work in progress.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I don’t know what else to say, but…thank you.”
His arms tighten around me. “Anytime, Vi.” He kisses me again.