Chapter 7
I wake up on my eighteenth birthday wet and aching.
Two months of almost kisses and one stolen one that tasted like spun sugar. Two months of his arms around me and his voice in my ear—not yet, baby.
Two months of wanting a man determined to be honorable. And I both love and hate him for it.
After the night at the park, Jordan became even more strict, to my utter frustration.
Prolonged denial has turned me into something feral. Something that spends entire nights sobbing into a pillow because I can’t get him out of my head, or off my skin, or out of the place between my legs he absolutely refuses to touch.
I roll over with a groan and press my face into the pillow. Eighteen. Finally eighteen.
As if on cue, a knock sounds on my bedroom window.
My heart stops. He’s here. He warned me he'd be the first thing I see when I woke up today.
I dart to the window and pull the curtain aside—and the air leaves my lungs in a rush.
Jordan stands outside, looking like every sin I’ve been dying to commit for months.
Grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a black T-shirt clinging to his chest. His hair is tousled from the wind, his jaw shadowed with stubble, his blue eyes burning into mine like he’s barely held himself together all night.
And then there’s the other thing. The thick, unmistakable outline of his erection, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.
My mouth goes dry. He lifts a single brow, a silent challenge. You gonna let me in?
I don’t hesitate.
The window slides up with a quiet creak, and Jordan steps into my room. Jordan has never been in my room before. He'd sit on the sill and let me talk to him about everything and nothing but never come in. Having him now in here feels like another barrier taken down.
“Sleep well?” he murmurs, his voice rough.
I shake my head.
"I know, baby. Neither did I."
His gaze drags down my body—my thin tank top, my bare legs—and his throat works as he swallows. The air between us crackles, charged with weeks of denied tension.
Suddenly, I’m molten. It feels as though one wrong move would have me sinking straight through the floor.
He stalks toward me, then lifts a hand to my face, his thumb gently grazing my cheekbone.
His thumb slides down, over my jaw, stopping at my lower lip. My breath hitches. “Have you any idea how hard the past two months have been?”
“I think I know,” I whisper.
“Good,” he growls. “Then you understand why I’m going to ruin you.”
Heat explodes through my stomach. I grab his shirt, desperate, pulling him closer.
He catches my wrist. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and hungry. “Tell me you want my hands on you, Sabrina.”
“Touch me,” I hear myself say, no longer afraid. “Everywhere. Please, Jordan.”
Jordan watches me for a beat, and then he’s cupping the back of my neck, his mouth crashing onto mine like he’s been dying for this moment.
It's deep, starving, and consuming. His other hand slides down my back, gripping my ass hard enough to bruise, pulling me against him until I can feel his arousal against my lower hip.
Gasping, unable to believe he's letting me feel him in a way I've only dreamt about, I shift until I'm grinding the part of me that aches most against the thick, steely length, moaning when the ache in my core sharpens into an inferno.
He groans against my mouth but doesn't stop me. “Christ, you’re killing me, Sabrina.”
“I can’t help it. I want you so bad.”
“I know,” He kisses me again, another soul-drugging kiss that turns my need into something else, and I'm humping his thigh and moaning shamelessly.
“Shh. Let me take care of you, baby. Lay back on the bed for me. Grab the railings.”
Not needing to be told twice, I scoot onto the bed, and do exactly as I'm told.
Jordan’s gaze rakes over me, possessive and reverent all at once. “I’m not going to fuck you today.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
His lips curl, wicked and slow, as he lowers himself to me. “There’s something I need to do first.”
His hand slides down my belly, lower, until his fingers trace the edge of my pajama shorts.
My breath stops.
He slowly kisses his way down my torso, each press of his mouth sending lightning through me.
When he reaches the apex of my thighs and takes a deep whiff of me, I know exactly what he plans to do.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, then looks up at me through his lashes, his expression a sinful mix of hunger and tenderness.
“Jordan.” I grab his hand in a moment of uncertainty. No boy has ever seen me naked. Will he even like how I look down there?
“I'm dying to see you, baby,” he growls. “To taste how much you want me.”
His words…his desperation sends a bolt of need through me and with a moan, I let him go.
He drags my shorts down my legs along with my panties.
I bite my lip in anticipation when he grabs my knees and spreads me open to his gaze.
“Fuck. Baby,” he whispers, “you’re gorgeous.”
My lids flutter closed at his adoration, and I wait.
He presses a kiss to my inner thigh. Then another. Closer and closer to my core, dragging the tip of his nose along my skin. I’m shaking. Actually shaking.
When his breath fans against me core I stop breathing.
The first stroke of his tongue is a languid, bold, sinful hello that sends heat rippling up my spine. My fingers leave the headboard and fly to his hair, gripping tight. “Jordan—”
“Shh,” he murmurs. “You have to be quiet, baby.”
It comes rushing back. We’re at my house. In my bed. My creaky bed. And he’s going down on me. I nod frantically, but then his tongue flicks over me again, and a broken sound escapes my throat.
His hand clamps over my mouth, his eyes flashing up to mine a dark warning in them. "Behave or I'll stop."
My pulse spikes. Oh God I'd die if he stops. But my parents are also two doors down.
He licks me again—longer and slower, like he’s savoring me. My hips jerk, and I make another sound.
“You’re going to get us caught,” he murmurs against me, his voice rough with amusement. “Would you like that, Sabrina? Your father coming in here finding you with your legs spread, your sweet pussy clenching around my tongue?”
I shake my head frantically, but my body betrays me, arching into his mouth.
He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against my center. “Liar. You loved the sound of that.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I'm sick for reacting to his words this way. And then pleasure obliterates shame as he spears his tongue into me.
My back bows off the bed, but I manage to quell the scream.
“That’s it,” he rasps. “Take it you fucking sexy woman.”
He goes to town on me. Licking, sucking. Again and again. Until my thighs clamp around his head, my fingers twisting in his hair.
“Jordan, please—” I sob.
He holds my thighs open, then sucks gently on my clit and my vision whitens at the edges.
“Oh—God—Jordan!”
His hand slams over my mouth as he groans against me. The vibration only sends another jolt of pleasure through my body.
His finger circles my entrance, then gently slips in, and I bite the inside of my cheek not to scream. Before I can fully contain the onslaught of pleasure, he returns to sucking on my clit while his finger curls into my front wall rubbing against a spot that makes me see stars.
I come. Suddenly. Violently. Shamelessly. My vision blurs. My brain empties. My soul leaves my body and files a complaint because it is never recovering from this.
I sob into his palm, my body shaking uncontrollably, my thighs like a vice around his head. He devours every tremor, every clench, and every drop spilling from me.
When I finally collapse back onto the bed, boneless, Jordan kisses the inside of my thigh and whispers, “Happy birthday, baby.”
I can’t move. I can barely breathe.
He crawls up until he’s lying beside me, gathering me into his arms like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.
“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing hair from my face.
“No,” I whisper honestly. “I think… you broke something inside me.”
He laughs softly. “That's fair, considering you blew my mind, too.”
My cheeks burn with his praise. as I gesture weakly to the large wet spot on his sweatpants. “Jordan… did you just—”
“Come in my pants? Fuck yeah.”
“But… you could have—”
He groans, pulling me tighter. “I told you, I’m not going to take you. Not here. Not now. I need a place where the neighbours won’t hear you screaming.”
I flush hard.
Four hours later in Biology class, the recess bell rings, but I don’t move. I’m still throbbing. Every time I shift in my seat, I’m reminded of Jordan’s mouth, and the way he owned me before sunrise. I'm spending tonight at his mansion. Molly's covering up for me.
“Sabrina?”
I blink, realizing my teacher is staring at me. “Yes?”
“Are you alright? You look… ill.”
I swallow hard. “I'm just… warm, that's all.”
The teacher looks pointedly at my wool sweater and a few kids snicker.
I don’t care. Because all I can think about is what he's going to do to me tonight.