Chapter 14 #2
His grip tightened slightly, finding that perfect pressure that had my hips jerking involuntarily.
Then he started to move, a long, slow stroke from base to tip that made my toes curl and my back arch.
His thumb swept over the sensitive head, gathering the wetness there and using it to ease his next downward stroke.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, completely unprepared for the jolt of pleasure that raced through me. My head fell back against his shoulder, exposing my throat to his hungry mouth.
He took advantage immediately, his lips latching on to my pulse point, sucking hard enough that I knew it would leave a mark—a thought that sent another wave of heat through me. Perfect. Just what I needed—visible evidence of our illicit activities.
But I couldn’t bring myself to care, not when Jaxson’s hand was working me over with devastating precision, not when his mouth was doing sinful things to my neck that made my brain short-circuit.
With each upward stroke, his thumb would circle the head of my cock, spreading the slickness that was now flowing freely, making the glide of his hand smoother, faster.
Each downward stroke was firmer, his grip tightening just enough to make my breath hitch.
His strokes became more deliberate, more purposeful, his grip perfect—not too tight, not too loose, just right in a way that made me wonder if he’d been practicing or if he was just naturally gifted at everything.
His other arm held me tight against him, preventing me from squirming away as pleasure built inside me like a gathering storm.
The dual sensation of his hand working my cock while his mouth claimed my neck had me writhing against him, caught between pushing into his grip and pressing back against the hard length I could feel through his pajama bottoms.
I clutched at his forearm with one hand, feeling the muscles flex as he worked me.
God, even his forearms are unfairly attractive.
Is there any part of him that isn’t perfect?
My other hand reached back to tangle in his hair, needing another point of contact, needing to ground myself in this storm of sensation.
Each pull of his hand sent waves of pleasure crashing through me, each one more intense than the last. That honey-sweet scent was growing stronger between us, wrapping around us like an invisible cocoon that separated us from the rest of the world.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with desire. “So perfect in my hand.”
His wrist twisted on the next upstroke, changing the angle in a way that had me gasping, my back arching sharply.
He repeated the motion, learning from my reactions what felt best, what made me tremble the most. His grip would tighten, then loosen, finding the perfect rhythm that had me panting and squirming in his lap.
He knew exactly what he was doing, every touch calculated to drive me crazy, to reduce me to a trembling, needy mess in his arms. His lips found the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the curve while his hand continued its relentless rhythm.
Of course he was good at this. He was experienced, worldly, everything I wasn’t.
He probably had a PhD in making people lose their minds while I was still stuck in Sexual Tension 101, desperately trying to pass the midterm.
And suddenly, I wanted more. More than just his hand, more than just physical release.
I wanted everything he was willing to give me, everything I’d been dreaming about for years.
“Jaxson?” My voice was barely a whisper, breathy and desperate in a way that would make my future self die of embarrassment.
“Having second thoughts?” His breath ghosted across my neck, warm and minty, raising goosebumps in its wake.
His hand never stopped its movement, though it slowed slightly, giving me space to think.
His nose traced the curve of my ear, inhaling deeply as if my scent was something he couldn’t get enough of.
“No, I just… what’s it like? Kissing someone you love?”
What the hell, Lan? Did those words actually just come out of your mouth? Abort! Abort! Someone please hit the emergency shut-off valve on my vocal cords before I say something even more mortifying.
His hand stilled, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was our uneven breathing, the silence stretching between us like a living thing. The silence was so complete I could practically hear my dignity packing its bags and slamming the door on its way out.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I confessed, my heart doing its best drum solo impression, pounding so hard I was sure he could feel it even from behind me.
Stop talking! Why are you still talking?
This is like watching myself drive off a cliff in slow motion.
“I don’t want my first kiss to be as awkward as Nico’s attempts at cooking. ”
Great. Perfect. Now I’m comparing my nonexistent kissing skills to Nico’s cooking disaster. Someone please put me out of my misery.
He shifted, turning me in his arms until I was facing him, the movement gentle but inexorable.
The sudden change in position had my pulse skyrocketing, my body hyperaware of every point where we touched.
His expression in the dim light made my breath catch—something fierce and protective and hungry all at once, like a dragon guarding its most precious treasure.
“Lan.” His voice was dark, hoarse, like he was fighting for control, like he was holding himself back from something. The sound of my name on his lips sent another wave of that strange warmth cascading through me. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?”
No, I’m asking about the weather. YES, I’M ASKING YOU TO KISS ME, YOU GORGEOUS IDIOT. Oh God, I’m going to die from embarrassment right here in your arms. What a way to go.
I swallowed hard, gathering courage from the depths of my terror.
My eyes dropped to his lips—the lips I’d been dreaming about for years, cataloging their shape like a scientist studying a rare specimen.
Those lips had starred in more of my late-night fantasies than I’d ever admit even under threat of death.
“Well, you’re the expert here,” I mumbled, feeling bold despite—or maybe because of—the way his fingers still rested intimately against me, a constant reminder of how far we’d already crossed the line. “Think of it as… private tutoring?”
Private tutoring? PRIVATE TUTORING? That’s what my brain came up with? I sound like I’m auditioning for a role in some cheesy romance novel. Just kill me now.
His eyes darkened, pupils dilating faster than my bank account empties during bill season. The sound that rumbled from his chest wasn’t human—a growl so primal, so possessive that it sent shivers racing down my spine and heat pooling low in my belly.
Holy shit, that’s hot. The sound was almost feral, like something wild and ancient had awakened inside him. This wasn’t composed, controlled Jaxson anymore—this was something else entirely, something that made my knees weak and my breath catch.
“Private tutoring? That’s what we’re calling this?
” His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity burning in his eyes.
“Just so we’re clear—if I start this lesson, there’s no hitting pause. No quick saves. No respawning.”
His gaming reference would have made me laugh if I wasn’t so turned on, if my entire body wasn’t thrumming with anticipation like a live wire. “I’m counting on it,” I whispered, channeling courage I didn’t know I had, courage born of years of wanting and never having. “Teach me.”
“Fuck!” The curse exploded from him like he’d just discovered someone had reorganized his closet, raw and primal. The sudden intensity made me jump, a small gasp escaping me.
Then suddenly the world tilted, and I found myself on my back, Jaxson’s weight pressing me into the mattress like the most delicious anchor.
His body covered mine completely, all hard muscle and barely contained power, his thighs bracketing mine, his arms caging me in.
I could feel every inch of him, including the hard length of his cock pressing against my thigh, making it abundantly clear that this wasn’t just a teaching moment for him either.
The realization that he was hard—for me, because of me—sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me, settling low in my belly like liquid fire.
He wants me. Jaxson Sinclair actually wants me.
This wasn’t pity or brotherly comfort. This was desire, raw and real and reciprocated.
If my face got any hotter, the fire department would probably issue an evacuation order for the building.
That strange warmth between us was becoming unbearable now, a living thing with its own heartbeat.
The honey-sweet scent was everywhere, filling the air between us, making my head spin.
It felt like being drunk and perfectly sober at the same time—hyperaware of every sensation, every breath, every heartbeat.
“This is how you kiss, Lan,” he growled, his hands cupping my face with surprising gentleness despite the intensity burning in his eyes.
Like a dragon trying not to frighten away a particularly skittish treasure.
Though most treasures probably weren’t actively trying to get claimed, weren’t arching up into the touch with embarrassing eagerness like I was.