When Promises Come True （Or How Jake Kept His Word） #2
I grabbed the sheets and tried to remember how breathing worked.
Jake was relentless. Hot and wet and hungry. The sounds he made when I rolled my hips were pure fucking worship. I felt them more than I heard them.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasped into me, like he was talking to himself, not me. “So soft. So goddamn wet.”
Both his hands were now around my thighs, his fingers digging into my skin like he didn’t want to let me get away. Like I could ever want to.
Then he flattened his tongue and dragged it from bottom to top, filthy as hell, finishing with a flick over my clit that had me crying out.
He did it again. And again.
And then he started sucking.
My hips bucked and he groaned like that’s what he’d been waiting for. His hands pinned me down and his tongue circled my clit with obscene skill, flicking, sucking, stroking, like he knew exactly how to break me.
I moaned. Loud. Desperate. Unfiltered.
“That’s it,” he said. “Let me hear you.”
He sucked harder.
“Jake—fuck—oh my god.”
He was devouring me like he’d starved for it, like my body was the only thing that could satisfy a need that was driving him out of his fucking mind. One hand slid from my thigh, his fingers tracing down, down, inside.
I moaned loudly again as he pushed one thick finger into me. Then two. My back arched off the bed the pleasure was so intense.
“Fuck, Eden,” he said, finding my G-spot. “Tight little pussy grippin’ me already. You close, baby?”
I nodded. Or tried to. Everything was pressure and pleasure and the heat of his mouth. I couldn’t be certain what my head was actually doing.
He sucked on my clit while fucking me with his fingers, his rhythm perfect and so fucking deep I saw stars. I was a mess of breath, gasps, and oh-my-god-please-don’t-stop noises that included me crying out his name. The whole building would absolutely know who was making me come.
“I want you to come on my tongue,” he said, before licking me in one long, deliberate stroke that had my whole body trembling. “I want to taste what I fucking do to you.”
That undid me.
My orgasm hit hard and fast, and I clung to Jake’s hair like it could save me.
He didn’t stop. He kept licking. Kept fucking me with his fingers. Kept dragging every ounce of pleasure out of me like he wasn’t satisfied with only one orgasm. Like he wanted all of me.
My thighs shook. My voice broke. And still— still —he didn’t let up until I was limp beneath him, panting, sweating, ruined.
Only then did he rise, his beard wet.
And the look in his eyes?
It wasn’t casual.
It wasn’t one-night anything.
It was Jake looking at me like I was something he’d just claimed, carefully and thoroughly, and couldn’t wait to mark again.
“You good, darlin’?” he asked, his fingers brushing my hip gently.
I blinked at him. Dazed. “What the hell did you just do to me?”
His smile was all filthy satisfaction. “You think I’m done?
” He placed both hands to the bed to lift himself up and prowl over me.
“That was me warming up.” He leaned down and kissed my jaw.
My neck. Licked my skin like he owned it.
“You’ve got another two in you, at least. Maybe three if you keep screaming my name like that. ”
With a swift, confident movement, he stood and discarded his boots and jeans, and then his T-shirt and underwear. And I was unable to do anything but just stare at his inked muscles.
The power in his body, the raw masculinity, was intoxicating.
His gaze swept over my body, lingering on the dampness between my thighs.
I, meanwhile, was a hot mess looking at his dick. It was big. Physics-defying, rearrange-my-insides big. I think I saw God. I think She waved. And then pointed at Jake like, you’re welcome .
He grabbed a condom from his wallet and then came back to the bed. His body moved over mine, all hard lines, and my legs parted for him. His cock brushed my inner thigh, and every inch of me throbbed for it.
I reached for his neck as I wrapped one leg around his body.
“So fuckin’ sweet,” he murmured, bracing one hand beside my head and palming my breast with the other. His mouth dropped to mine and he kissed me. It wasn’t quick. He took his time, deepening it, making all kinds of sinful sounds while his hand moved down from my breast to my clit.
I moaned and rocked my hips when his finger circled my clit. I was still raw and oversensitive from the orgasms he’d already given me, but that didn’t stop me from wanting more.
He ended the kiss, gently pulling my bottom lip between his teeth for a second. Then he said, “I’m gonna fuck you, darlin’. Are you ready for that?”
I could only nod, my body already humming with anticipation.
“Tell me, Eden. I need to hear you say it. How much you want this too.”
I dug my fingers into his neck. “I want you to fuck me. So fucking badly.”
“ Fuck .” He reached down and stroked his cock once, twice, his eyes all over my body.
Then, he lined himself up, stared into my eyes, and pushed inside me. And holy fuysbdkgsdfywerbl.
He filled me inch by inch, so thick, so slow, the stretch unbearable and perfect and too much and not enough. My nails dug into his shoulders as I clung to him, struggling to breathe around the feeling of him sinking so deep it felt like he was moulding my body to fit him.
Jake’s muscles locked tight as he held still once he was all the way in. Like he was tensing against a pressure rising too fast. “Jesus, Eden.” His voice was unsteady in the most obscene way. “You take me like you were fuckin’ made for me.”
He pulled out, almost all the way, his forearms flexed, then he sank back in. “Fuuuck.” His lips caught mine, greedy, unfiltered. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”
His pace turned relentless, every thrust sending sparks up my spine.
I met it, matched it, and the room filled with the kinds of sounds I’d never heard during sex.
Or maybe I’d just had such bad sex that I hadn’t paid much attention.
Either way, there was no way I could ever go back to shitty sex again.
Jake’s indecent sounds.
My moans.
The slap of skin against skin.
Faster.
Harder.
Deeper.
Jake’s control slipping and the pleasure reaching new highs.
His name leaving my lips.
My name falling from his in amongst other dirty words no man had ever said to me.
I orgasmed right after he told me he wished he was fucking me raw so that I’d still be full of his cum tomorrow. (Sidenote: I’m going to have to spend time analysing the wrongness of being so turned on by this. I may need a spreadsheet.)
Jake came after me, with one last hard thrust that almost slammed my head through the headboard of the bed.
(Sidenote: the fact this also turned me on in new ways may also require analysis.
I really don’t think he can call me sweet or good anymore.
Good girls wouldn’t be hoping and praying for him to do that again and again, and maybe a little harder next time, right?)
He collapsed on top of me, his weight a welcome pressure. We lay together, our breaths coming in ragged gasps, the silence broken only by the beat of our hearts against each other. Then he rolled onto his back, pulled me close, and pressed a kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin.
“Don’t even think about falling asleep yet, darlin’,” he murmured. “I need to hear you scream my name again.”
Later, much later, after more orgasms and long, lazy conversations between kisses—talking about everything and nothing, tangled in my sheets and each other—I realised something that terrified and thrilled me in equal measure: I was falling for him. Hard. Fast. Utterly.
Current status : Thoroughly claimed, completely ruined for all other men, and contemplating if it’s possible to die from satisfaction. Also wondering how I’m going to explain the marks on my neck tomorrow.
P.S. Is it possible to be addicted to someone’s touch? Asking for science, of course, not for a friend that is me.
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