Chapter 47 #2
He released my hands and straightened above me. As he did, he flexed, muscles bunching under smooth skin, making me itch to touch him. My fingers twitched, but I kept them where they were.
He looked down at me as if I was everything he’d ever wanted.
He reached for the tie on my robe, holding my eyes as he pulled it, slowly. The fabric sliding apart, displaying a line of skin that ran from my throat, between my breasts, down my navel, and to the tops of my thighs.
He drew in a sharp breath as his eyes travelled down that runway.
He put his hands on me, just above my navel, and I twitched as his warm palms seemed to burn.
His eyes slid up to meet mine and he licked his lips.
I took in a shuddering inhale that shifted my robe further apart.
I watched, fixated as he moved his palms upwards.
His fingers dipped under the robe, until his hands met my breasts.
He paused, holding me gently in his hands as the robe parted further, falling on either side, exposing me to his hungry gaze.
“Cheonsa,” he groaned, running his thumbs over my peaked nipples. I arched my back, breath leaving me in strained pants.
He cupped me in his hands, squeezing gently before lowering his mouth and nipping me gently, grinning up at me when I squeaked.
Fascinated, I watched as he soothed the small hurts with his tongue, flicking me in maddening bursts that seemed to resonate deeper within my body, before taking one raised peak in his mouth and sucking gently.
I gasped, straining against the confines of his body, bucking my hips off the bed to collide with his. He released his mouth with one last, broad swipe of his tongue.
Jihoon looked at me with unrestrained longing, and lowered his hips onto mine, letting me know exactly what my body did to his.
“You are perfect,” he hissed, grinding against me with unrestrained abandon, drawing a long, drawn-out moan from me.
He lifted off me, and when I watched him put two fingers into his mouth, I almost expired, because in the next moment, he pulled them out and – holding my gaze – trailed his wet fingers down my abdomen.
I squirmed, until he reached the part of me that ached for him the most. He slid his hand down the centre of me, pausing to trace soft circles before pushing his fingers inside, slowly, watching my face the entire time.
There was no resistance, I was already so wet for him.
I threw my head back, mouth pulled wide in a wordless cry, my body bowing.
I moved my hips in time to his fingers, uncaring about the sounds I made, only seeing the look on his face. Desperation and restraint. From where he kneeled between my thighs, I felt him rocking, as if he couldn’t help himself.
He stroked his thumb over me in time to the thrust of his fingers, and it wasn’t long before I began to climb higher and higher, nerves pulled as tight as guitar strings, until – finally – I snapped, crying out and thrashing underneath him as starbursts of pleasure cascaded outwards, like the fading sparks of a firework.
I opened my eyes to see Jihoon staring down at me, panting as if our roles were reversed. I reached for him, but he surprised me, gently batting my hands away.
“Put your hands back on the pillow, cheonsa,” he growled.
I frowned but did as he said.
Gently, he ran his palms up my bent legs, from ankle to knee, rubbing my tense muscles gently.
Nothing could have prepared me, because in the next instant, he slid down and hooked my legs over his shoulders in one smooth movement that yanked me down. I held onto the pillow now, clutching at it as Jihoon grasped my thighs firmly in his hands.
“Joon!” I gasped, raising my head to watch him.
“I am not done,” he rasped so close to me that I felt the cool air of his words against my exposed skin.
A whimper tore from my throat as I felt his mouth on my calf, kissing his way up one leg, before switching his attention to the other. He traced his fingers softly, following the path made by his hot mouth.
Watching him move up further and further was a sweet kind of torture, because I knew what he intended, but all that knowledge did was prolong the agony of waiting.
If I’d thought I’d relieved the immediate desperation for him. I was wrong, because all I felt was an aching kind of need that seemed to expand with every sweep of his tongue.
His fingers dug into the soft skin of my hips as he held my gaze, never wavering, even as he pressed his mouth to me, but a split second later, I broke the connection, throwing my head back as I groaned. The sound was pulled out of me as the first strokes of his tongue dragged up my centre.
Looking down, I inhaled sharply at the sensation of his blisteringly hot tongue, and the stream of cool air as he withdrew a moment later to blow gently across my now wet skin.
He gave me no time to recover, save for a predatory smirk, before pressing his tongue against me and lapping in ever increasing broad, fast strokes.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth to muffle my cries, but Joon wasn’t having it.
He pried my hand away and brought it to his wicked mouth, where he pressed a kiss to my palm.
“It’s been so long since I’ve heard the sounds you make when you cum for me, jagiya, don’t deprive me.”
I would have blushed in another life, but all I felt then was need. Raging, obsessive need. I speared my fingers through his hair, feeling the motion of his mouth as he lowered his face.
Nothing muffled my cries now, and I couldn’t bring myself to care as he edged me closer and closer to that peak.
My entire body tensed as waves of pleasure crested over me, and I shattered upon the rocks once more.
Joon growled against me, a resonant vibration that prolonged my orgasm as my chest heaved, even as the waves faded into ever gentling currents, and I settled back into myself.
I didn’t let him rest though. I pulled his hair slightly, tipping his head back, partly to put some space between him and my over-sensitive skin, but also to see his face.
The feral look in his eyes at once floored me and filled me with more need than would have thought possible so soon after satiating it. It was a kind of madness.
It wasn’t just a need for sex, although that was certainly front and centre. The other need I couldn’t – wouldn’t think about.
He stared up at me, panting slightly, on his knees as if he was begging me for something.
“Kaiya,” he said, more prayer than name.
I didn’t wait to recover, I couldn’t – I felt too frenzied to allow myself any breathing space. I sat up and brought my mouth to his, dragging my tongue over his bottom lip, before playfully nipping at him. I could taste myself on his mouth.
He groaned around a chuckle, and I pulled away, watching him through heavily-lidded eyes even as aftershocks still pulsated through me.
“You seem remarkably composed,” I commented, chest heaving.
“Is that how I seem?” He smirked, catching my hand in his again. He pressed little kisses to my wrist before he lowered my hand to the obvious bulge in his trousers.
“Do you feel what just the sight of you does to me, jagiya? The taste of you.” He panted as he pressed my hand against him, and when I wrapped my fingers around his hard length, he threw his head back and let out a groan.
“The way you feel – I could not let myself remember, it would have been torture. Now I have you again, I do not know how I lived without you.”
I couldn’t respond. I could only react.
I’d forgotten how perfect he felt in my hands. The last thread of my self-control fell away.
Pulling my legs beneath me, I rose onto my knees and crowded into his space. He looked up at me, watching me with a kind of reverence that in itself was a heady aphrodisiac.
I shrugged off my robe, letting it slip to the ground, feeling the way his eyes travelled over my bared skin like a physical touch.
“Lie down,” I commanded, enjoying the way his eyes darkened at my words, enjoying even more the way he acquiesced immediately without taking his eyes off me, as if he couldn’t bear to. As if I might disappear if he did.
I was completely naked, while he still wore his trousers, but instead of reaching to to take them off, a wicked thought made me grin as I lowered myself to crawl up his body.
Starting from his waistband, I lowered my tongue to his abdomen and licked my way upwards, delighting in the way his muscles jumped under my touch. I raised my eyes to his face, watching his jaw clench and the fierce look settle in his eyes as he tracked my every move.
I straddled his narrow hips and settled my weight on him, feeling him buck beneath me, as though in irritation at the fabric still between us.
I grinned as I pressed my mouth to his throat, kissing the skin there gently, until the mischievous side of me took the wheel and I moved to the side of his neck, biting harder and sucking.
He gasped and raised his hands to my face. I expected him to shift away, but he only held me closer as I nipped at his skin, knowing damn well that what I was doing would leave a mark. He either didn’t care or wanted it too badly.
Which in turn made me want it more.
To soothe the hurt, I ran my tongue over the area and up to his mouth, claiming him with my lips, teeth and tongue.
He growled into my mouth, deepening the kiss as he grasped my bare hips, his fingers digging in so hard that I knew they would leave behind bruises. I pressed my weight down on him harder before I tore my lips away.
“Condom,” he panted.
“I’m on birth control,” I replied.
His eyes searched mine, each of us making the decision.
“Are you sure?” He asked, an edge of desperation to his words.
I nodded.
“I’ll take care of you,” I mirrored his earlier words and I leaned down to kiss my way up his neck again, because I remembered how much he liked it when I did. Instinct, and memory was in control now.
I was stretched over him, touching him in so many places, except the one we both strained for. My breasts were pressed against his chest, and I imagined I could feel his heartbeat. Racing, like my own.
I claimed his mouth in a bruising kiss that he matched, leaving no doubt in my mind that my lips would be swollen tomorrow, but the thought only turned me on more.
Unable to bear it any longer, I reached down between our bodies and took hold of him through his trousers. His hard length jerked in my hand, and I grinned against his lips.
“Cruel woman,” he growled as I stroked him, up and down, too light to be satisfying.
I bit his lip as I dragged his zipper down, silencing his objection. In fact, he went so still that I pulled back to look at him.
“Okay?” I asked, watching his face.
He looked at me as if I drew the stars from the sky.
“If you stop, cheonsa, I will die.”
“I won’t stop then,” I grinned, a flutter in my chest, like a butterfly waking up from hibernation.
I pulled his zipper down the rest of the way and sat up, looking at him underneath me, spread out like my own personal fantasy. Holding his gaze, I reached my hand in, wrapped my hand around his length, and pulled him out. He hissed, unable to help looking down at where I now held him.
His skin was so soft as I worked him up and down, squeezing slightly, enjoying the play of emotions over his face, like the way fire shifts and dances.
But while I enjoyed touching him, that was not the end game. I paused my hands, and recaptured his focus. We locked eyes as I shifted my hips up, guiding him to my entrance. My chest heaved with concentration. His hands on my hips steadied me as I lowered onto him, inch by delicious, slow inch.
I slid down, and our heaving breaths synchronised, barely restrained until he was seated to the hilt.
It was in that moment, when he was finally inside me that I knew I’d been adrift, because suddenly I felt tethered.
Home.
I let out a gust of air that was part relief, part moan, and for a few moments I stayed there, unmoving, getting used to the stretch of him. My body remembered every inch.
His fingertips traced over me as I began to move, slowly at first, tentatively building up a rhythm like a dance I was remembering the steps to, until gradually, the beat of my body took over.
I barely focused on what my hips were doing, so lost to the sensation of Joon being inside me, and watching his eyes as he alternated between watching me and where we were joined.
He moaned my name, along with a string of Korean that came out too guttural for me to understand, but I understood the sounds he made well enough.
That I had forgotten how this felt with him was unthinkable.
Self-preservation.
My pace began to falter as the inferno began to build in me. He started to move under me, no longer content to have me setting our pace. He gripped me and helped me to rise, and fall, even as he thrust upwards, driving me further, and harder to the point of oblivion for the third time that night.
“Ah, Joon,” I cried, uncaring at how loud I was, at how my breath sawed in and out of me in staccato pants. “Fuck, I’m–”
I tried to keep my eyes open, needing to see the look of desperation on his face. I was trying so hard to hold my release at bay, I didn’t want this to end, because I knew. I knew it wouldn’t happen again.
But he knew me too well.
“Come for me, jagiya,” he growled, jaw clenched. “This isn’t our last time. I belong to you.” He gasped, eyes nearly rolling back as I tightened around him as the first explosion of my orgasm tore through me.
I reached for him, and he reached back, holding onto me as shudders shook my body.
He surged upwards, curling against me as he panted into my neck, and I felt him release inside me a moment later.
He latched onto my throat, like I’d done to him, and together we rode the downwards momentum of our orgasm, grasping each other and holding on for dear life.
Like there was no moment besides this one.
And that could be true. For now.