Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
JASMINE
S trider’s been saying things that I’ve so often dreamed about hearing. After the last few months, when I tried to get him out of my mind by reminding myself he was committed to somebody else and always would be in this world and the next, I couldn’t let down my guard and let myself believe him.
When I left him, I hurt so damn badly I thought my heart would never mend. The only men I’d had any time for were the ones who existed in my head and who I painted onto the canvas of my novels. He’s spoiled me for anyone else, but I’d hoped in time I would forget him, and be able to move on.
If it hadn’t been for Barclay and today’s violence, I wouldn’t have weakened and let myself come back with him. For a moment, I must have lost my damn senses when I pushed him to let me ride on his bike. If I hadn’t known the story of the accident he’d previously had, I’d have been surprised at how carefully he was riding. Even though we hadn’t gone fast, I’d loved every minute. I’d felt I was dreaming, flying down the road with my hands wrapped around his waist.
Everything he’s done, everything he’s said since the moment he came back into my life, has been exactly what I’ve always hoped to hear. But it would destroy me if I was being optimistic for no reason.
I thought if I could reduce this to a simple fuck, it would give him a way out without the organ that keeps my blood flowing around my body being shattered for good.
He said he wants me to be his old lady and his wife. Oh, how I wish I could believe him. For some reason I can’t, even though he’s said all the right things, and by God, the way he’s touching me now, caressing me with his touches and cajoling me with his words. I want to trust him, but I must stay detached to protect myself.
But oh, it’s so hard.
When he asks me to call him his government name, I refuse. It’s an intimate step too far.
Then, as his hands finally, but slowly, unclasp my bra, he weighs my breasts in his palms, for a moment just staring at them as though he’d never seen them before. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he rasps before reapplying his attention to the nipples he already knows are sensitive as hell. The way he’s pinching, sucking, and licking makes me wonder if I could orgasm from just his touch there.
Wetness rushes through me, and my clit throbs. I try to rub my thighs together in order to ease the ache. He chuckles, the bastard . He knows exactly how he’s winding me up.
Straightening, he moves his lips away from my breasts and settles them on my mouth. His tongue demands entry, and I can’t resist. I’ve so missed his taste. There’s no other word to describe what he’s doing other than to say he’s devouring me. I can’t pull away. I’m no unwilling participant and I give it my all. Tongues duel, teeth clash, and I know my lips will be bruised in the morning. My nostrils are full of a perfume that’s uniquely his, and my body responds as though my brain has nothing to do with it. There’s a rumbling coming from his chest, and when he starts to pull back, I grasp him to me, unable to get enough of him.
He chuckles and then gives me what I want, coming in to kiss me some more.
Of its own volition, my left leg rises off the floor and bends to wrap around his lower limbs, pulling him closer, then shamelessly, I’m trying to rub myself against him.
Again, his mouth leaves mine, but only enough to whisper gruffly, “If we keep on like this, then I’m going to come in my pants like a teenage boy.”
At least I’m not alone in my suffering. “Guess we both better get naked then,” I suggest.
“Always knew you were smart,” he replies, the mirth discernible in his voice. “I, er, kind of need to let you go for that.”
Taking his point, I reluctantly return my foot to the floor and ease away from him. But when I go to unzip my jeans, his hands are already there. And when he’s got them undone, he lowers both my pants, panties, and himself to the floor, leaning forward so his face is right in my crotch, and then he inhales.
“Fuckin’ best scent in the world,” he states, as if to himself.
My jeans are around my ankles, making it difficult for me to move, and his proximity to my nether regions is no help at all to my state of arousal. He seems to be enjoying himself, breathing me in once more.
“Strider,” I whine. He’s not the only one wanting to relearn what we’d enjoyed so many times before. I want to see if his cock is just as good as I remember.
He pauses, then huffs a breath making my clit twitch. I’m so fucking close and he’s barely touched me at all. “What did I tell you to call me?”
“Strider, please. Can we just fuck?”
He chuckles, the vibration all but setting me off. “Not going to fuck you. We’re going to make love.”
“I don’t care what you call it,” I cry out. “Just take me now.”
“Ask me.”
“Strider…”
He makes a grunt of disapproval and touches me right there.
Oh, Jesus, help me, but I can’t prevent his name escaping my mouth in a half-scream. “Colt.”
He lifts me, carries me to the bed and lies me gently down. He removes my boots then my jeans. At last, he pulls my panties off my ankles.
All action stops. I’ve been writhing in anticipation, head thrown back, eyes closed. After a moment, I lift up to glare at him. He’s staring at me with such reverence it takes my breath away. If the author part of me was trying to describe a look of adoration, then that’s what I’m seeing here. His lips are curved in pleasure, his eyes hooded, his cheeks flushed. His jaw tightens as he gives a little shake of his head.
“It should be criminal to have such a glorious pussy.”
I snort. “Hey, fella. Perhaps you can touch it and worship it rather than just stare at it.”
He catches my eye. “Say, please, Colt.”
I’ve already capitulated and don’t want to delay anymore. “Please, Colt.”
I rest my head back down, but still, he holds back.
“You want me to eat your pussy?”
I’m half-annoyed, half-amused and taut with expectation. “Please, Colt,” I repeat.
I must have forgotten how talented this man is with his tongue, as within moments, my muscles are spasming. My reaction spurs him on. He licks my clit and puts a finger inside me, and then one more. He knows exactly where to curl around to hit that spot that drives me wild.
I scream and bend forward, the orgasm so extreme it’s almost too hard to bear. My vibrator hadn’t compensated at all for the loss of him over the past months. As my body tenses and releases with aftershocks, he brings me back to earth.
“I’ve got to get inside you.” His voice is gruff.
“I want you.” I can’t wait to feel that large cock of his again. My arousal is building up at the thought of welcoming it back like an old friend. Strider, Colt , has moves, and I want him to remind me of them.
I hear boots falling to the floor, a zipper being lowered, then the rustle of fabric. Watching him through lazy eyes, I see his tee ripped over his head.
He hasn’t changed at all since I last saw him naked, though maybe he’s even more delicious than he was before. He’s a big man, but it’s all hard-earned muscle.
Bringing his body down over me, I feel his dick against my entrance.
I bat my hands against him and shout, “Condom!”
He rears back. “You’re not on the pill?”
“Not since I left here. It didn’t seem worth it.” And just to make sure I’ve made it clear, I say, “There’s been nobody else.”
He looks like he’s battling with himself. His mouth works, then he swallows as if changing his mind about what words to use. He’s still as a statue when he raises his eyes, closes them, then opens them again as he looks down. Seriousness is written all over his features.
“There’s nothing more I’d like than a child with you.” He places his finger over my lips. “I know with all the past that comes between us that you’re unsure. I’ll protect you for now,” his lips quirk, “as best as I’m able to.” It makes me remember that it was a condom that broke before. “I’ll wait until you're certain of me, Jasmine. But please, understand, a future with you, a family, is what I want.”
He doesn’t wait for my response, which is lucky, as I’ve no idea what to say. Raising his body off mine, he leaves the bed and rummages in a drawer. “Must be some in here somewhere.” Finally, he fishes some out. He squints and holds them up to the light. “They’re still in date, thank fuck.”
Wait a moment . Sitting up, I narrow my eyes. “When was the last time you used them?”
Looking at me, he shrugs. “Last time you were in my bed, Jassy. Ain’t been anyone else.”
Wow. As I watch him roll on the latex, I realise I’d been sure that while I was pretty certain he hadn’t had anyone else while I was still in the club—club girls aren’t known for being discreet—I’d convinced myself he’d have had a revolving door on his bedroom once he’d known I was gone for sure.
His task finished, he looks up and meets my eyes. “Didn’t want anyone else, Jasmine. And I knew it was only a matter of time before I found you again. Wasn’t going to stop looking.”
As he repositions himself and eases inside me, I close my eyes, relishing the feeling that’s like coming home. When he starts to move inside me, my body responds automatically, meeting thrust for thrust. It’s slow, as he promised. It’s not a frenzied coupling. It’s making love.
He’s worshiping me with his slow penetration, making me feel loved.
So different from our first time together. I was a club girl, there not even for a night, just for the time it took for him to get off. I knew the score and wasn’t disappointed. Next night, it was the same, the following no different. I don’t know when it happened, but slowly, it changed, so gradually, I didn’t really notice. He was always a generous lover, not expecting a club girl to be disappointed. But he didn’t need to go down on me, didn’t need to kiss me, didn’t need to make me feel like I was cherished.
And that’s exactly what he’s making me feel now. Cherished.