Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
There isn’t a moment of hesitation as my lips touch Jesse’s, no surprise or confusion, just his arm wrapping around my waist, pulling me flush to him as we meld together.
It’s not a sweet kiss—it’s a claiming. Lips and teeth and tongue, and then he’s moving, shifting me, lifting me. My legs move to wrap his hips, and he’s laughing as he kisses me, smiling into it as he starts to move us, leading us out of the bar.
Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, I hear cheering, and I know it’s from our friends. Continuing to kiss Jesse, I flip them off, and a chorus of laughter follows us out of the bar.
We’re headed to the elevators as my lips move down his neck, deciding he probably needs to be able to see as he moves us through the lobby with a purpose. It might be faster if he puts me down, but neither of us wants that; neither of us wants any kind of distance.
I just want his skin on mine in any way I can get it.
When we step onto the elevator, Jesse hits the button for his floor. Before the doors even close, he presses my back to the wall, grinding his already hard cock into me, and I moan.
“You’re mine,” I murmur as his hand lifts my head from his neck so he can kiss me.
“And you’re mine.” His tongue tastes me, and my chest feels lighter than I think it ever has in my life. “No going back, Hallie,” he says when he pulls back, and I shake my head.
“No going back.”
He smiles, head dropping to my neck and kissing me there. The elevator is criminally slow, but I can’t deny it to myself. “That was the hottest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Hotter than when I dry-humped you on the couch and made you come in your sweats?”
His laughter fills the small space, and I love that—love this—how when we’re so on fire, we can still joke and laugh. In fact, I feel like I’m floating with happiness.
“A million times hotter.”
“Hotter than when you ate me out on the edge of the hot tub?”
“Definitely.”
“Hotter than when I got on my knees and sucked you off in your bedroom?” I ask, and he hesitates for a moment, making me laugh again.
“Hotter, Hallie. You claiming me in front of everyone? Nothing will ever top that.”
“I have forever to try, though,” I say the words without meaning to, but I know once they leave my lips, when his entire face lights up, they were the right thing to say. His hand glides down over my hips and under the skirt of my dress.
“What the fuck are these?” he asks, pinching at my thick tights, pulling them away, and realizing they’re not actually sheer and thin.
“They’re lined tights. They’re very warm,” I inform him as his lips move down my neck, nipping and kissing and sending my need higher and higher as the elevator climbs.
“They’re criminal, Hallie.”
“What? Why? If I weren’t wearing them, the entire bar would have seen my ass,” I say with a breathy laugh that cuts short as his hand finds its way beneath the waistband and cups my pussy.
“Because if you weren’t wearing them, I’d be on my knees eating your cunt right now.”
And you know what? He makes a great point.
His finger presses my clit over my underwear, and I suck in a sharp breath.
“Jesse,” I murmur, about to tell him to take them off, destroy them, ruin them—I don’t care so long as it gets his mouth on me—but then the elevator dings, opening on our floor, and Jesse is moving us out the doors, his hands gripping my ass as I suck on his neck.
I give an apologetic look to the elderly couple, who look alarmed as we pass them, then laugh when the woman gives me a wink and thumbs-up.
When we turn the corner, that laugh turns to a gasp as one of his hands slides down, fingers grazing over my entrance, and for the second time, I vow never to wear these fucking tights again. Always easy access only.
Finally, we reach a door, and Jesse fumbles in his pocket as I press kisses to his neck before he finally gets the key out, scanning it and opening the door.
It slams behind us, and then my back is pressed to it, Jesse’s body pinning mine in place.
His lips crash down on mine with need and ferocity as my hands move to either side of his face and pull me to him.
Our teeth clash, lips smashing together, tongues tasting one another.
I’ve never felt more needed, more desired, in my entire life. But over the past month, I’ve realized that’s how Jesse always makes me feel—like there's nowhere he would rather be and no one he would rather be with than me.
When he grinds into me, his cock already hard and moving over my swollen clit with perfect precision, I groan.
“Please tell me you’re not going to cut me off again,” I beg, desperate for him.
He lets out a laugh and shakes his head. “Oh, Hallie baby, we’re not leaving this hotel room until you’re good and sore.”
A chill runs through me as he sets me on my feet, then tugs my dress off as I kick off my boots.
His fingers tuck under the waistband of my tights and pull them and my underwear down, moving to his knees as he does.
I step out of them with his help, and then I’m naked before him.
He shifts until he’s face-to-face with my pussy, and the man groans.
He groans loudly, and I tighten at the sound.
A finger trails up my inner thigh, and I slowly step to widen my legs and give him room, a smirk forming on his lips, though he doesn’t look up my body at me.
Instead, his eyes stay locked on my center.
“I’ve fucking dreamed about this cunt, Hallie.”
“You could have seen it in person weeks ago,” I say, words shaky as that finger slides over the crease where my leg meets my hip.
“No, no. This is so much better. Now it’s mine.” He leans forward and places a soft, almost chaste kiss on my clit, and I sigh.
“Jesse,” I murmur, fingers moving to his hair, but he doesn’t move. Instead, his other hand moves up, thumbs parting me, and then he groans again when my cunt is revealed to him.
“So fucking pretty.”
His head drops, lips circling my clit and sucking deep.
My head falls back, knocking on the door, but I can’t focus on anything but the way he feels on me, the way his fingers bruise my thighs, and the way his tongue flicks over my clit.
My eyes snap open to look at him, and when I do, he’s standing, tugging his sweater off in one smooth move, tossing it aside without a care.
“I want to eat that all fucking night, Hallie. I really do. But right now, what I really need is to be inside of you.” I nod, eyes wide.
“Yes,” I say, and he laughs as I step closer, his hands hesitating on the button of his jeans. I reach up, brushing his hair back and looking in his eyes. Even now, even in this moment of need and desire, I need him to know it’s not just one night, like last time.
“We’ve got time for the extras. This first time, I just want you.”
It’s written clearly on his face, the understanding of what I’m saying crashing over him—joy and acceptance and gratitude I don’t deserve.
In that moment, I knew for sure he would wait an eternity if I asked it of him. He’d wait for me for as long as needed, and that means more to me than he’ll ever know.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait, and he knows that now.
He bends, grabbing my hips and lifting me again.
His lips are on mine as he takes long strides to his bed, then tosses me onto it, just like that first time.
I find a giggle leaving my lips, and I hope it’s always like this with us—fun, hot, and filled with need but also friendship.
God, I love this man.
The thought crashes through me, a realization that isn’t necessarily new or groundbreaking, but still, I sit with it as he starts to undo the button on his jeans. I find that it’s not scary at all, just warm, comfortable, and safe.
Just like the man before me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock bobs free, and my lips part, my pussy tightening with sudden need, and I say the first thing that comes to mind.
It’s not a prolific confession of love.
“Please, for the love of God, tell me you brought a condom.”
He lets out a deep laugh that fills the room, reaching for his pants, forgotten on the ground.
His pecs flex, and I lick my lips, taking in his naked upper half as he rifles through his pocket, grabbing his wallet and pulling out a condom, then tossing it on the bed.
I sigh with relief before he tosses the wallet on the ground and takes two long, prowling steps toward the bed, climbing on.
His movements are graceful and precise, and just like last time, he dips his head to my ankle, pressing a kiss there, then to my calf.
Despite the need, desire, and feat, suddenly my throat gets tight.
Jesse has never hidden anything from me, not when it comes to how he feels.
He may have played things down to avoid scaring me off, but he has always deeply cared for me.
That night, he was showing me the same things he’s showing me now—pressing a kiss to my thigh and then my hip.
He loves me, every bit, every inch, even the flawed, scared part of me.
“Wait, wait,” I say, trying to keep my head on straight when he reaches my belly. He raises his eyebrow at me and smiles.
“Is this your kink?” he asks, and I roll my eyes, shaking my head before moving to my knees and then grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward me.
“No. I just. I want…” I take a deep breath, trying to muster the courage before I close my eyes.
We’re on our knees before each other on the bed, and I reach up to cup his jaw, my thumb moving on his mustache I am so obsessed with.
“I love you, Jesse King,” I whisper into the room.
It’s too soon—far, far, too soon—but also, it’s so late.
Because I’ve loved Jesse for years, my feelings have evolved, but I can’t deny that over the past few months it’s become glaringly apparent.
I am head over heels in love with Jesse King.