39 Birdie
BIRDIE
Jasper is kissing me, and I want to melt like a candle. I’ll contemplate what a terrible mistake this is later. For now, I just want this. No processing. No freaking out. Just passion, and power, and control. I want to give him control. I want to get out of my head.
He tips my head back, taking charge. “Can I touch you?”
“Yes, please.” I’m already pressing myself closer.
God, he smells so good. His cologne is sweetly spiced, like autumn in a bottle.
Warm fig and cedar, notes of amber. I want to press my face to his neck and breathe him in while I grind against his hips.
Dropping my hands between us, I tug on the hem of his shirt and start unbuckling his belt.
He groans, breaking our kiss. “Birdie—”
I chase my name from his lips with another kiss, flicking my tongue in a tease before he can pull away.
“You really want this?”
I nod, still unbuttoning his jeans, but he tips my head up sharply, his expression hard as iron.
“Say it then.”
“You told me to show you,” I tease, smoothing my hand over the hard outline of his dick.
He grabs my wrist. “Say it, or you’ll get nothing else from me.”
He’s changing the rules, which isn’t fair now that I’m turned on. He told me all I had to do was show him. Intimacy is so much easier without words. I just want my body to feel something other than this panic. “Jasper, please . . .”
His grip on my wrist tightens as he glowers. “You think I don’t know your game? I invented it, Birdie. We are two sides of the same fucking coin.”
I try to twist out of his hold. “Let me go—”
“You’re not fighting me, you’re fighting yourself. Let go of your damn shields. You want me inside you? Before that happens, you have to unlock the door, and let me in.”
“Jasper—”
“Look at me.” He takes me by the chin, forcing me to look up. “You’re in me, Birdie. Look in my eyes and see it for yourself.” His steely grey eyes are so open and honest.
Tears well in mine as I cling to him. “Jasper, I can’t—”
“You’re in me,” he says again. “Do you know the last time I told someone who and what I really am?”
My heart is racing as I cling to my shields. “I’m guessing never?”
His thumb smooths away my tears. “Never. Only you. I have been alone all my life, forced to stand in the shadows so I’d cast none of my own. I’ve been called reckless and worthless, a disgrace to my family and my name.”
Anger wells in me at his words. Was I not told much the same? I cup his face, holding his gaze. “Lies. Don’t believe them for a second.”
He nods. “I know who I am. Here in your arms, I know what I am. I would have you know me too. Say yes.”
I drop my hands to his shoulders, still searching his face. “What do you want from me?”
He tucks my hair behind my ear. “I want you to see me. I refuse to be one more nameless fuck to you. I’m guessing you’ve had enough of those to last a lifetime. So have I,” he adds before I can voice my feigned indignation.
He’s right, of course. All I’ve ever had are nameless fucks. If I have it my way, they’re usually faceless too. A warm body with willing hands in the dark hallway of a busy bar is usually enough for me to get off. I don’t do relationships. Ever. Maybe the occasional repeat hookup.
“No more hiding,” he urges. “No scratching an itch or fucking to escape. Be present with me. Feel this with me.” He presses his hand over my heart again. We both hold our breath as we feel it race beneath his palm.
Jasper Prescott could never be a nameless fuck to me.
This man is haunting me, consuming me, filling up every empty space inside me.
It hasn’t even been a week, and I can’t remember life before him.
The sound of his voice makes me ache to get closer.
The feel of his rough hands on my skin sets me ablaze.
“Do you want me?”
God, I can’t even think in his arms. Can’t breathe. I can only nod.
“Then say it.”
“I want this,” I say on a breath. “Jasper, I want you. Please—god, I want—”
He steals the rest of my words with a kiss, rewarding me for lowering my iron shield at last. I all but whimper with relief, my arms going around his neck. He trails both hands down to my hips, lifting me off the floor. I gasp against his mouth, my legs going around his waist.
Holding me with ease, he walks us over to the kitchen island, setting me on the edge. With one deft yank, he has my top off. My pierced nipples pebble as my breasts are exposed to the cool air of the room. I lean back, catching myself with both hands, fingers splayed against the granite counter.
Jasper’s gaze is covetous as he takes in my chest full of tattoos. His thumb traces along the line of Ma’at’s colorful feathered wing that sweeps beneath my breast. “So beautiful,” he murmurs. “You know, I thought she was Isis at first.”
I perk up, offering him a smile. “Oh, yes?”
“Yeah, well I didn’t get as good a look last time. And I was in a bit of a rush having almost just died.” He strokes a finger along the blue ostrich feather tucked in her hair. “The feather gives her away though. Lady Ma’at.”
The goddess of motherhood isn’t really my style. Ma’at stands for truth and justice, sacred order. Reaching out with one hand, I weave my fingers into his hair and give him a tug, reeling him closer. “Gold star goes to the king of witches.”
He hums, a feeling of mirth in the sound. “It’s a bit of an odd choice, no?”
“How so?”
“You value truth in others yet offer none for yourself.”
His words sting, even as I can admit he has a point. I’m too guarded by half, terrified of letting others in. But what I can’t share in words, I can show in other ways. “My body is full of truths,” I offer. “Taste it and see.”
Smiling, he leans down and kisses Ma’at’s painted face. Then his tongue licks up between my breasts. Skating higher, he folds himself over me to kiss the hummingbird on my left clavicle.
“Hmm, you’re right,” he teases. “Surly and opinionated, with just a hint of sugary sweetness—but only here on your tits.” He flicks one, which makes me gasp.
Laughing, I tug on his hair again. He comes so easily, his body falling in with mine.
Both his hands cup my breasts as he quickly takes the left one in his mouth.
That first suck has my head tipping back, lips parted on a sigh.
His tongue licks and teases, sending a flutter of heat racing down my body, straight to my clit.
I smooth my hand through his dark hair, coaxing him with a softly whispered, “God, yes . . .”
He switches to the other side, and I shiver, dropping a hand back to brace against the granite. He nips at my piercing, tugging it with his teeth until I hum, each little tug like a slap to my clit. “Fuck—please, Jasper, I need more.”
His hands drop to my hips. He tugs me off the edge of the island, letting me slip to the floor.
As soon as my toes touch the ground, he’s turning me, pressing in from behind.
His hips grind against my ass, pinning me to the edge of the counter, as his hands sweep around to my front.
One circles my neck, holding me tight against him, while the other smooths down, between the breasts he was just kissing, over my stomach, farther and farther down.
I breathe through the pressure of his hand at my throat, daring to lean into his hold, silently asking for more. He growls low, giving me what I want, squeezing tighter. Now he can feel the vibration against his palm when I moan.
“Good girl.” He kisses the shell of my ear. “So soft for me. So eager to please now that you know you’ll get what you want, hmm?”
I smile as I nod, still holding my breath. I’m loving this ache, this exquisite pressure.
With a final squeeze he releases me and then he’s right there, one hand on my shoulder, his command warm in my ear. “Breathe for me.”
I suck in air, feeling high. My body is buzzing all over.
“So good,” he praises, his hands still stroking me, winding me up. “I want to touch you here.” He cups my pussy over my jeans. Pressing in with two fingers, he strokes against the thick seam of the denim. It applies just a tease of pressure to my needy clit. “You want that too, don’t you?”
“Yes.” I press my hands flat to the island and push against him with my hips, opening more space for him to put his hands on me. The cool feel of the stone against my palms is a sharp contrast to the fever now racing over my skin.
Jasper’s body is a wall of strength behind me as he holds my breast with one hand. The other hand he slips inside the top of my jeans. It hovers there, waiting. “Are you wet for me, Birdie?”
I nod my assent, glowing at the way he says my name—so possessive and greedy.
Stifling a whimper, I press my ass tighter against his hips and feel his hardness waiting for me.
I ache to hold it, tease it with my tongue.
Arching my back, I twist at the waist and reach around with one hand, enough to dig my fingers in his hair and claim his lips in another quick kiss.
I’m ravenous, tugging at his bottom lip with my teeth.
His stubble rasps against my chin. I want to feel that friction everywhere.
“Touch me,” I beg. “Jasper, please—” I choke back the rest of my plea as he finally tucks that hand inside my jeans, his fingers teasing the hem of my panties as they dive down lower. They brush featherlight over my soft curls before parting my pussy lips.
“Look at you,” he croons, stroking through my wetness. “Such a needy girl. Are you aching for it? These tight little panties are fucking soaked.”
I fight another shiver at his words and rock against the friction of his hand, desperate for more. “Inside,” I pant. “Put them inside me—yes—”
He presses two fingers up inside me, his fist restrained by the tight stretch of the denim.
He swirls his fingers together in slow circles, right at the opening of my pussy.
The pressure wakes up every nerve ending, sending warmth pooling out from my center.
My limbs get that delicious jelly feeling that comes right before everything goes tight.