Chapter Twenty
Twenty
Lane
Jameson’s hips thrust forward, filling me fully. My eyes slam shut, a strangled cry rips from my throat. Now I understand the saying ‘It hurts so good’. The mix of pleasure and pain is almost too much.
My hands fist in the comforter. “You’re too big,” I hiss, though the sting is already giving way to pleasure that curls hot and low in my belly.
He nips at my bottom lip. “Your pussy says otherwise, baby,” he murmurs. “I can feel your walls clenching around me, begging me for more.”
He pulls out almost completely, then slowly, so slowly, thrusts back in, my moans mixing with his low growl.
“God damn, baby, you feel so good.” Thrust. “So wet.” Thrust. “So fucking tight.”
The sting fades, replaced with pure pleasure. “Please,” I beg, needing more. Needing all of it.
He takes my mouth, his tongue, licking and sucking mine as he continues to sink into me slowly, until I’m a withering mess below him. Only then does he pull back, that sexy smirk on his lips.
“You’re so polite when you beg me, Wildflower,” is all the warning I get.
He grabs my legs, pushing them up to my chest, opening me wider to him. Then he really starts to fuck me. Hard.
A scream rips from my throat. Not from pain, but from the overwhelming pleasure. He pounds into me, his piercing scrapping along that perfect spot with precision. My hips rise and fall, meeting him thrust for thrust. My pussy clenches around him, desperate for release.
“Fuck,” he groans. “You keep squeezing my cock, with your greedy little pussy like that, and I’m not going to last, baby.”
His filthy words spur me on. I squeeze him tighter, pulling a curse from him.
“Hold your leg up,” he commands.
I obey without hesitation, bracing a hand under each thigh.
He swipes two fingers through my arousal, and draws slow circles around my clit, his cock still slamming into me. Each thrust, punishingly deep and hard. The sounds coming from me become unnatural as my head thrashes back and forth.
“Eyes on me,” he warns.
I hear his words through my fog of need and slowly bring my eyes back to his.
“Good fucking girl.” His fingers press harder, circling faster. “Come for me, Wildflower.”
He pinches my clit and I explode. My body seizes as my orgasm rips through me. I think I scream his name but I’m not sure. My vision goes black momentarily, and my ears ring.
My orgasm continues on, but Jameson doesn’t slow, fucking me through the aftershocks. He slams into me hard. Once, twice, three times, before his hips jerk and feral growl rips from his throat as he follows me over the edge.
He rolls on to his back, taking me with him. I collapse on his chest, the steady beat of his heart mingling with our heavy breaths.
He runs his hands through my hair, a favorite of his. “Nothing has ever felt better than that,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against my forehead.
Then he does something I don’t expect; he rolls me off of him and climbs out of bed. I stare after him. Shocked. Where is he going? Is he leaving? After he made me say I was his? After he said he was mine? Hurt overtakes me.
Normally, I want my ‘partner’ to leave right away. Not wanting them to touch me outside of sex. But with him it’s different. I want him to hold me while I fall asleep in his arms. I thought he wanted that too.
“Don’t leave,” I beg, hating how pathetic and small my voice sounds. How vulnerable I feel.
He stops, his back going rigid. When he turns his eyes are soft and he’s at my side in two long strides. His hand comes up, cupping the side of my face. “I will never leave you.” He brings his lips to mine, kissing me softly. “I was just going to the bathroom for a warm rag to clean you up.”
My eyes follow as he straightens and walks toward the bathroom. He pauses at the door, turning to face me, hands gripping the top of the frame. “I’m spending the night, Wildflower. I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”
My pussy throbs, heat igniting through my body. He has definitely been reading some romance books. I hope he continues.
The next morning, I wake up wrapped in Jameson's arms, feeling satisfied and deliciously sore. He wasn’t lying when he said he wasn’t anywhere close to being done with me. He made me come three more times.
Once more with his mouth and twice on his very impressive, very pierced dick. I didn’t even think coming that many times in one night was a real thing.
And the piercing? That was a pleasant surprise. A very pleasant surprise. I could feel it dragging along my inner walls with each thrust, adding another layer of pleasure.
Not that he needs any extra help. Jameson knows exactly how to use his very impressive dick, fingers, and his mouth.
Don’t even get me started on his body. It’s a thing of beauty wrapped in colorful ink. Last night was the first time he let me touch him. The first time he’s let me see him naked. Hell, it’s the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt on.
It was worth the wait.
Tattoos cover most of his body, leaving only his lower back, ass, and right thigh bare. I haven’t had a chance to explore them fully yet, but I plan to.
And not only with my eyes.
“Wildflower, as much as I’d love nothing more than to start my day with my cock buried inside of you,” Jameson murmurs against my ear, his whisper rough from sleep and need.
“I know you are still sore from last night, so I’m going to need you to stop rubbing your wet pussy all over me.
Because my restraint is slipping and I don’t want to hurt you. ”
I freeze. Jesus Christ. How can I still be so horny after coming that many times in one night? I’ve never had more than two orgasms in one night, and that only ever happened once.
Normally, I’d be lucky to have one at all.
“I’m not sore,” I lie, grinding my ass against him.
I definitely am, but not enough that I can’t take him. Not enough that I don’t want him.
He hisses, hand tightening on my hip, halting my movements. I let out a frustrated groan.
He chuckles, running his rock-hard dick through my wetness. “Trust me, baby, I want you just as much right now. But I have a surprise for you, and I’m going to need you to be able to walk.”
I eye him warily over my shoulder. “What kind of surprise?” I ask, trying to decide if a surprise from Jameson is worth giving up morning sex with him.
“The kind you have to get out of bed for.” He nips at my bottom lip playfully before getting out of bed and holding his hand out.
Sighing playfully, I take his hand and let him lead me into the bathroom, without a fight. I know he put a lot of thought into this surprise. He always does.
He turns on the spray of my glass-enclosed shower, checking the temperature before stepping back. I step inside, the steam wrapping around my body.
My brows pull together when he doesn’t follow me into the shower. “You aren’t joining me?”
He bites his lip, eyes glued to my naked body.
“Lane, I can’t join you. If I’m inside you even once right now, I’m not going to let you leave this house.
I will stay here all day with my cock buried inside you, and we will miss your surprise.
And trust me, you don’t want to miss it,” he says, voice dripping with lust.
“You have a shower and I’m going to make us some breakfast.” He shuts the glass door, closing me inside the shower.
Fuck.
I’m so wet right now that I'm thinking about begging. Maybe I’ll just take care of myself while I’m in the shower. Just to take the edge off.
“And don’t even think about touching yourself,” he warns, closing the bathroom door behind him with a soft click.
My jaw drops as I stare at the door. I can touch myself if I want to. He’s not the boss of me. He doesn’t own my pussy. I’m an independent woman who does what she wants, when she wants.
Well, apparently, he does, in fact, own my pussy.
Instead of giving myself the relief I desperately need, I am currently sitting uncomfortably in one of my kitchen chairs. My center throbs and aches with unfulfilled need as I stare at the plate in front of me; pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast.
My mouth waters, the savory aroma of fried pork mixing with the sugary sweetness of the syrup drowned pancakes. “This is a lot of food for just the two of us.”
His lips lift in a knowing smirk. “You’re going to need your energy.”
I pick up my coffee, a soft moan leaving my lips when the bitter sweet liquid touches my tongue. “How did you know I take my coffee?”
He forks up a bite of fluffy scrambled eggs, and shrugs. “I called Kam and asked her.”
My eyebrows knit together. “You called Kam just to ask how I make my coffee, so you could have it ready for me when I got out of the shower?”
He chuckles but his eyes are serious when they meet mine. “Yes, Lane. It took me minimal effort to find out.” He nods at my plate. “Eat your breakfast. We have to get on the road soon. We have a bit of a drive ahead of us.”
I cut into my pancake, the fork gently scraping across the glass plate. “Can I have a hint?” I ask, bringing my fork to my mouth. A moan slips from my lips when the sugary, buttery goodness hits my taste buds. They are so fluffy and soft. I think he added vanilla and maybe a little cinnamon.
His eyes twinkle with satisfaction, but he doesn't budge. “Sorry, Wildflower. It’s called a surprise for a reason. If it helps ease your mind, Kam helped me plan it. Now eat so we aren’t late.”
He called my best friend to ask how I take my coffee. He also asked her to help plan a surprise for me. Not to mention the delicious breakfast I’m currently eating and all of the amazing dates he’s taken me on already. Oh, and let’s not forget his magical, pierced dick.
Just when I think there’s no way he could be more perfect, and there is no way I could want him more, he proves me wrong.
I’m practically vibrating with excitement as we stand in line outside of a used book store. “I can’t believe you did this.” I cock my head to the side. “How did you do this? Tickets sold out almost immediately.”
My favorite author, Katherine Stuart, announced her book tour months ago and I eagerly waited for the tickets to go live. They sold out within seconds, and Lady Luck was not on my side that day.
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I have a friend who’s an editor. He owed me a favor.”
I put my hands on my hips, a playful grin tugging at my lips. “You just so happen to have an editor friend?”
He slings his arm around my shoulder, pulling me against his side. “I’m full of surprises, Wildflower.”
Guilt rushes through my body coiling in my gut. “Was this the surprise you had for me the night everything happened at the bar?” I ask softly, looking away.
He tips my chin up, forcing my eyes to his. “Tell me about this author, Wildflower,” he says, changing the subject, not letting anything, even me ruin this day.
A smile tugs at my lips, and I sink into his hold. I swear I hear a few women around us swoon as he listens intently, taking in everything I’m saying, only interrupting when he has a question.
Somehow I manage to hold my shit together when it's our turn to meet Katherine.
She is warm and welcoming, offering both a hug and a personalized autograph, which she scribbled in the special edition copy of her newest book, courtesy of Jameson.
The picture at the end completed the day, landing it at the number one spot for best day ever.
Life is good. So good that part of me is afraid to enjoy it. Afraid something is going to happen, ruining the happiness I’ve finally found.