Chapter 7 - Jade
He kissed me.
Eli Cross, this rugged, gruff, older man who looks like he could break the world in half. just kissed me. Put his huge hands on my face like I'm something precious and kissed me like he's been thinking about it for days.
And it feels incredible.
His mouth is demanding, claiming, and I'm kissing him back with everything I have because I don't want this to stop. Ever. I want to stay right here in this moment where nothing exists except his hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth and the solid wall of his chest pressed against mine.
But even as I'm drowning in it, my brain kicks in.
What does this mean?
I'm not the type of girl who can just do this without knowing. I wish I were sometimes, wish I could just let go and take what I want without overthinking it. But I can't. I need to know what this is. What he wants. What happens after.
So, I pull back, my hands still fisted in his shirt. If I could, I'd have ripped it off a long time ago.
"Wait," I breathe.
He freezes immediately, his eyes searching mine. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, I just—" I try to catch my breath. "What does this mean? To you. What are we doing here?"
His expression shifts. Closes off slightly. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Stop," I interrupt, gripping his shirt tighter. "I don't care about why you shouldn't. I care about why you did it."
He stares at me, jaw tight. "I'm not the type of man who explains his actions."
"Try."
There's a long pause. I can see him wrestling with it, with himself. Then he lets out a breath.
"If you want to know so bad, I couldn't resist you. There's something about you that keeps calling to me, and I'm done denying it." His eyes lock onto mine. "But if you don't feel the same, I'll respect that. I'll take you home as soon as the road's clear, and we'll forget this happened."
I can see his fists clenching at his sides, knuckles white. This man. This absolute idiot of a man. Of course I feel it. Of course I want to know what's so special between us, want to see where this could go.
I step forward and punch him in the chest. Not hard, but enough to make my point.
"We could have been kissing this whole time if you weren't so stuck up," I say.
He blinks. His mouth opens slightly, and then he actually shoots back, "I'm not stuck up. I just need to be sure about everything."
"Are you sure now?"
"I'm sure about kissing you." His voice drops lower. "About wanting more of this."
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. "I'm sure too."
I smile, and something in his expression awakens. Something wild and hungry breaks free.
He scoops me up with one hand. One hand, like I weigh nothing, while his other hand pulls a few strands of hair away from my face with a gentleness that shouldn't be possible from someone so big.
Then he's carrying me.
Down the short hallway to his bedroom. It's sparse, like the rest of the cabin. A big bed with dark blue sheets. A bedside table with a lamp. A wardrobe. Nothing else. No pictures, no decoration, nothing personal except the bed itself.
He lays me down on it and I don't say a word. I'm curious to see what a man like him will do. What it looks like when Eli Cross lets himself want something.
He doesn't disappoint.
He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself over me, and kisses me again. Deep and thorough, like he's memorizing the taste of me. Then his mouth moves to my ear, his beard scraping against my skin in a way that makes me shiver.
"I'm going down on you," he murmurs, his voice rough and dark. "And I won't stop until you can't take it anymore."
Fuck.
I gulp, my mouth suddenly dry, and my hands are already moving to the buttons of his flannel shirt before his hands even get there. I need it off. Need to feel his skin.
"You in a hurry?" he asks, and I can hear the amusement in his voice.
"Shut up," I say playfully.
He has no idea. I'm dripping wet already, soaked through my panties, and he's about to get a very big surprise.
His hands join mine, helping me out of the shirt. Then he's working on the sweatpants, sliding them down my hips, over my thighs, until they're gone and I'm lying there in nothing but my beautiful black lace panties.
I'm so fucking glad I wore these today.
His eyes darken as he takes me in. Then he moves lower, settling between my legs, and starts kissing along my inner thighs. Soft, teasing touches that make my breath hitch.
I bite my lower lip, resisting the urge to grab his hair and pull him where I want him. He's taunting me, testing me, seeing how I'll react.
But I'm not giving him the satisfaction. Not yet.
Then he finally makes his move.
His fingers hook into the right side of my panties, sliding them down. Then the left. Slowly. Until I'm completely exposed to him. He just stares for a moment, taking in the view, and I feel myself flush under his gaze.
"Your pussy is beautiful," he says, his voice thick. "And you're already soaking wet. I fucking love it."
I'm about to say something, thank him, maybe, or tell him to stop talking and do something, when he just dives in.
No warning. No preamble.
He buries his face between my legs, and I cry out. His mouth is everywhere. Sucking, licking, his tongue twirling around my clit with precision that shouldn't be possible. He's devouring me like he's been starving for this, and I feel every fucking thing.
All I can see is his dark hair between my thighs, and I finally give in. I grab his hair, arching my back when his hands grip my inner thighs, holding me in place.
I'm writhing now. My legs spasming, my arms shaking, sounds coming out of me that I can't control. He doesn't stop. He's a man on a mission, and nothing is going to stop him from completing it.
He licks back and forth, pauses for just a second to adjust his angle, then goes back in with even more intensity.
It's too much. I'm only human. I can't take it anymore.
My eyes roll back. Saliva drips from the corners of my mouth that I can't control. My whole body goes taut, every muscle locked, and then—
I shatter.
The orgasm hits me like a freight train, ripping through me in waves that don't seem to end. I've had orgasms before. Alone, with others, but never like this. Never this intense. Never this all-consuming.
And it was just his mouth. The main course is yet to come.
He finally stops, raising his head, and fuck, his beard and lips are coated with my juices. His hair is a mess from where I grabbed it. But he has never looked this fucking gorgeous.
I pull him to me and kiss him. I can taste myself on his tongue, but I don't care. It feels right. It feels perfect.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says against my mouth. "But I have more to give you."
"I know," I say, my voice breathless. "I want it all."
My eyes drop to his bulge. It's straining against his jeans, thick and hard and throbbing. Fuck. He must be big.
He follows my gaze. "Jade—"
"I want it," I say, meeting his eyes. "All of it. Don't hold back."
"You're sure?"
I palm his bulge through his jeans, grabbing it, feeling the thick length of him straining against the denim. I stare straight into his eyes while I do it.
"I'm more than sure," I say.
His belt hits the floor with a clank. His jeans follow, shoved down and kicked off until he's standing there in nothing but his briefs, his cock hard and pressed against the fabric, the outline of it making my mouth water.
"Can I take off your briefs?" I ask.
"You don't need to ask," he says, his voice rough.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of his briefs and start pulling them down. At the same time, he reaches up and pulls his shirt over his head.
He's out of this world.
Those abs I caught a glimpse of earlier are even more incredible up close: defined ridges and hard muscle that flex with every movement. But that's not what has my attention.
His cock springs free, thick and long and throbbing, and I wasn't wrong. He's fucking big. I reach out to stroke it, wrapping one hand around the shaft, but one hand isn't enough. I have to use both, and even then I can barely encompass him.
He groans, low and deep. "Fuck. Your hands feel incredible around my cock."
I look up at him, squeezing gently, watching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. Then I let go and lie back on the bed, spreading my legs wide, hands resting beside me.
"I'm ready," I say. "I want to take it all."
He climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between my thighs. One hand braces beside my head while the other wraps around his cock, guiding it to my entrance. I'm so wet that the head slides in easily, and he pauses, his eyes finding mine.
"You okay?" he asks.
"I feel perfect," I breathe. "Keep going."
He presses deeper, inch by inch, and I've never felt this filled before. It's like I can barely move without feeling him everywhere, stretching me, claiming me, taking up every bit of space inside me.
He starts thrusting slowly. One. Two. Three. Four strokes, letting me adjust to his size. Then he starts to quicken his pace. I moan, the sound escaping before I can stop it, and I slap a hand over my mouth.
"Don't," he says, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away. "No one will hear you but me. And I fucking love your voice."
I smile, pull his face down to mine, and kiss him while whispering against his mouth, "Fuck me harder."
He growls and then he's pounding into me, his cock buried to the hilt over and over again. The old bed is creaking beneath us, the headboard knocking against the wall with each thrust, but we don't stop. Not even a thunderstorm could stop what's happening right now.
I grip the bed sheets as sweat trickles down my forehead. I'm trying to keep my eyes open, trying to take in every detail, but all I can manage are flashes—
The sweat dripping down his whole body. His eyes wide open, locked on mine. His mouth slightly open, jaw tight. His chest heaving after each powerful thrust.
It's too much and not enough all at once.
But there's no way I'm letting him do all the work. What will he think of me if I just lie here and take it? I tap his shoulder, and he immediately slows down, concern flashing across his face.
"You okay?" he asks, breathing hard.
"I want to ride you," I say.