Chapter 15 #2
We share the fries on the drive home, the salt and grease coating my fingers. It’s the first real food I’ve had all day that doesn’t sit in my stomach wrong.
I pull into my driveway and kill the engine.
As soon as we’re inside, he kicks his shoes off by the door. He doesn’t bother to line them up neatly; he leaves them there and heads straight to the table, dropping the bag down.
He moves to the cupboard. His hand immediately reaches for the plates, second shelf, left side. He knows because he’s been here enough times now that he just knows.
Something about watching him move through the kitchen does something to my chest. I move to the fridge, pull it open, and grab two cans of Coke.
When I return to the table, he’s already got everything laid out. Both burgers are unwrapped. Fries are divided between the plates. Napkins are pulled from the bag and placed beside each one.
He glances up at me and catches me staring. “What?”
I shake my head and set the cans down.
“Nothing.”
But it’s not nothing. It’s everything. It’s him buying me dinner and laying it out and acting for one second that someone gives a shit whether I eat or not.
“You didn’t have to buy me dinner,” I say quietly as I sit down next to him.
“I wanted to.” He shrugs and reaches for a fry. “Plus, I used my charm tonight. I was out front serving tables and got a really good tip from two older ladies.”
I laugh. “So, you flirted.”
“I wouldn’t call it that.”
“Well, what would you call it then?”
His mouth curves into that slow, dangerous smirk. The one that probably got him those tips in the first place. “Letting cougars dream. Can’t help it if they want to fantasize about corrupting the youth.”
I laugh again. Harder this time. He’s such an asshole sometimes. Such a cocky, self-aware asshole who knows exactly what he’s doing and doesn’t apologize for any of it.
Never change, I think. Please don’t ever fucking change.
“Well, thank you, Jace, for buying me dinner,” I say, still smiling.
“You’re welcome.” He says it simply. Easy.
But I can see how proud he is of this moment.
The way his shoulders straighten just slightly.
The way his eyes hold mine for a beat longer than necessary.
For once he’s the one taking care of me instead of the other way around.
For once he’s the one making sure I eat.
He takes a bite of his burger, and I stand up and step back into the kitchen. I grab a knife from the drawer, walk back over.
“Did you seriously just cut your burger in half?” His says.
I glance back at him. “Yes.”
“Who the fuck does that?”
“People with manners.”
“It’s a burger, Bells. Not a steak at some fancy restaurant.” He shakes his head and takes another massive bite of his own burger. “You’re supposed to just shove it in your mouth and pray nothing falls out.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“That’s efficient.”
I roll my eyes and pick up one half of my burger. “You’re such a caveman sometimes.”
“And you’re such a princess.” He grins around his mouthful of food. “Guess we balance each other out.”
When I take my first bite, the flavor hits me all at once. Grease, cheese, and something perfectly seasoned. I can’t help it. A sound escapes my throat, low and satisfied. My eyes close instinctively.
When I open them again, Jace has gone completely still. His burger is halfway to his mouth. His eyes are locked on me. Dark. Intense. Something hungry flickering behind them that has nothing to do with food.
“What?” I say.
“You can’t do that,” he says. His voice is rough, strained in a way that makes my stomach flip.
“Do what?”
“Make those fucking sounds while you’re eating,” he shifts in his chair, adjusting himself under the table. “I don’t want a fucking boner while I’m trying to eat dinner.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Oh, as if.”
“Feel it if you don’t believe me.”
I stare at him.
He stares back, dead serious, with that cocky challenge written all over his face.
I wipe my hand on my napkin, then reach under the table. My palm lands on his thigh first, then I move upward, pressing my hand against the front of his jeans.
Sure enough, he’s hard. Straining against the denim.
“Well,” he says, his voice dropping lower. Darker. “While you’re down there...”
I yank my hand back and slap his arm. “Not now. You bought me dinner, and your cock isn’t going to stop me from eating it.”
He laughs.
I take another bite of my burger on purpose, keeping my eyes on him.
He tosses a few fries into his mouth and chews casually. But his eyes are still dark, still watching me.
“Your mouth should be fucking illegal,” he says after a moment. “The sounds you make. The way your lips wrap around that burger. It’s obscene.”
“Then stop watching.”
“Can’t.” He takes a drink of his Coke. “You’re too pretty when you eat.”
I roll my eyes but I’m smiling. I can’t help it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re sitting there moaning over a burger when you could be moaning on my cock instead.”
“Romantic.”
“I’m a romantic guy.” He grins. Shameless. “What can I say?”
We keep eating. The banter flowing easy between us.
Filthy and exactly what I need after the day I’ve had.
He makes another comment about my tongue.
I tell him where he can shove his opinions.
He suggests I shove them somewhere else entirely.
I threaten to finish his fries, but he pulls his plate closer and guards them possessively.
By the time we finish our burgers and fries, my sides hurt from laughing. My face hurts from smiling. The heaviness that’s been sitting on my chest all day has lifted just enough that I can breathe again.
I wipe my hands on my napkin one last time, then stand.
His eyes follow me. Curious. Hungry.
I climb into his lap and straddle him, with my hands resting on his shoulders.
“Now,” I say, my voice low. Teasing. “Where was I?”
His hands find my waist immediately. Grip tight. Possessive. “Pretty sure your hand was on my cock.”
I lean in, my lips brushing against his, barely touching. “Right. I remember now.”
Then I kiss him. His hands slide up my back, pulling me in closer, pressing me against him until there’s no space left between us, making sure I feel his hard cock.
He groans into my mouth before standing and lifting me up. My legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and he carries me out of the kitchen and down the hallway, never breaking the kiss.
We stumble into his bedroom. He lays me down on the bed. Follows me down. His weight presses me into the mattress.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my throat. His lips drag across my skin. Hot. Wet. Taking their time. “I’ve been thinking about this all fucking day.”
“Yeah?”
My hands find the bottom of his shirt. I pull it up over his head and toss it onto the pile of clothes already on the floor somewhere behind him.
“Yeah.” His hands work at the button of my jeans. “Thought about you in that hospital room, sitting there waiting. Thought about getting you home. Getting you under me. Making you forget everything else.”
My breath catches. “Jace.”
“I got you, Bells.” His mouth finds mine again. Deep. Consuming. “I got you.”
He kisses me for a long time, his mouth moving against mine with a lazy confidence that makes my toes curl. His tongue slides against mine. It’s the kind of kiss that says he’s got all night and plans to enjoy every second of it.
His hands slide up under my shirt. Palms rough against my stomach and ribs. He’s not rushing or grabbing. Just touching. Learning. Memorizing.
“This needs to come off,” he murmurs against my lips. His fingers tug at the hem of my shirt.
I lift my arms. He pulls it up over my head and tosses it aside without looking. His eyes drop to my chest. To the plain black bra I’m wearing.
“Fuck me,” he says quietly. His thumb traces the edge of the cup, barely touching, just enough to make my breath hitch. “You’re so fucking pretty, Bells.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious.” His eyes lift to mine. Dark. Heated. Something almost vulnerable flickers behind them before he blinks it away. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Before I can respond, his mouth is on my neck—kissing, sucking. His teeth scrape my pulse point, and I gasp. My hands fly to his hair, gripping tight.
He takes his time working his way down. His lips trail over my collarbone. The swell of my breasts above my bra. He kisses the valley between them, then moves lower. His mouth hot against my stomach.
His hands finally move to my jeans. He pops the button, then slowly unzips them. He hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls, sliding them down my hips and thighs as he takes his time peeling them off.
When he looks up at me from between my legs, my stomach flips.
“These too,” he says, his fingers tracing the edge of my underwear. Black cotton. Nothing special. But the way he’s looking at them you’d think they were made of silk.
“Jace.”
“What?” His mouth curves into that cocky smirk that drives me insane. “I want to see all of you.”
He slowly pulls my underwear down, watching my face the whole time. When they’re off, he doesn’t immediately touch me; he just looks, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed skin.
“Stop staring,” I say, my voice breathless.
“Can’t help it.” He runs his hand up my calf, over my knee, and along my inner thigh. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”
His fingers brush over my pussy, feather light, testing.
“Shit, Bells.” His voice drops lower. “You’re already soaked for me.”
“It’s your fault.”
“Yeah?” He does it again. Drags his fingers through my wetness. Circles my clit with just enough pressure to make me squirm. “Is this all for me?”
“Don’t be so cocky.”
“Bells, I’m always cocky.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my inner thigh. Then higher. “Especially when I’ve got you spread out in my bed looking good enough to fucking eat.”
My breath stalls. “Jace.”
“What?” Another kiss, this time higher. His breath hot against my skin. “Are you telling me you don’t want my mouth on you?”
I do. God, I do. But I can’t seem to form the words.
He interprets my silence as consent. His mouth finds me. Tongue sliding through my folds. Slow. Tasting every inch of me.
My back arches off the bed, and I cry out. My hands fly to his hair.
“Fuck,” he groans against me, the vibration making my thighs shake. “You taste so fucking good.”
His tongue circles my clit. Flicks over it. Then he sucks it into his mouth and I see stars.
“Jace.” My fingers tighten in his hair. “Oh my god.”
He hums his approval and takes his time, using his tongue in ways that should be illegal. Licking. Sucking. Alternating between soft teasing touches and firm pressure that makes my vision blur.
Then his fingers join in. One slides inside, then crooks, finding that spot that makes my whole body jolt.
“There it is,” he murmurs. Smug. Satisfied. “Found it.”
He adds another finger. Works them in and out while his tongue continues its assault on my clit. The dual sensation is too much.
“Jace.” My hips roll against his face. Chasing the pleasure. “I’m going to—”
“Not yet.” He pulls back. “Not until I say so.”
I want to kill him. Want to beg. Want to do something besides just lie here trembling and desperate.
He kisses his way back up my body, taking his time, and pauses to pay attention to my hip bone, ribs, and the underside of my breast. Finally, his mouth closes over my nipple through my bra, and I gasp.
“This is in the way,” he says. His hand slides around to my back. He finds the clasp, flicks it open with practiced ease.
He tosses the bra aside, then presses his mouth to my bare skin. Hot. Wet. He sucks my nipple into his mouth, rolls it with his tongue, and his teeth graze over it, making me whimper.
“Sensitive,” he murmurs, before switching to the other breast, giving it the same treatment. “I’m going to remember that.”
His hand slides back down between my legs. Fingers pushing inside me again. Pumping slow. Building me back up.
“Please,” I finally manage to say. My pride is gone. Burned away by need.
“Please what?” He lifts his head and looks at me with those dark eyes. That cocky smirk plastered on his face.
“Fuck me.”
“I am fucking you.” He curls his fingers and hits that spot again. “Or do you want something else?”
“You know what I want.”
“Say it.”
“Jace.”
“Say it, Lola.” His thumb finds my clit and rubs slow circles. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need your cock.” The words tumble out. “Please. I need you inside me.”
“There we go.” He pulls his fingers out and sits back on his heels. That fucking smirk still on his face. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”