Chapter 8 - Lily
I tug at the hem of Jimmy's shirt, suddenly aware of how much I might have just exposed. Did I make him uncomfortable? He's turned away, busying himself with the dishes, shoulders tense.
Standing in his kitchen wearing nothing but his shirt and my panties, I realize how forward this must seem.
I didn't intend to come off as if I'm throwing myself at him.
I literally have nothing else to wear. But the way he's pointedly not looking at me sends a confusing message, especially since. ..
My eyes drift down to the front of his jeans, and holy fuck. There's an unmistakable bulge there, straining against the denim. And it's not just large. It's actively throbbing, pulsing visibly even as he tries to angle himself away from me.
My pussy clenches in response, already embarrassingly wet. I press my thighs together, trying to relieve the building pressure, but it only makes things worse.
Is he doing this on purpose? Showing me what I'm missing?
No, Jimmy doesn't seem the type to play those kinds of games.
He's been nothing but respectful. Maybe he was looking at porn on his phone while I was in the shower?
But that doesn't fit either. He's too straightforward, too honest for that kind of deception.
Which means... he's turned on. By me.
The realization sends another flood of wetness between my thighs. A man like him—powerful, confident, ruggedly handsome—is aroused by me. By my body, which has only ever been criticized.
"You okay?" Jimmy's deep voice breaks through my thoughts. He's still focused on the dishes, his back partially to me.
I blink, realizing I've been standing motionless in the middle of his kitchen. Why did I get up again? I can't even remember.
"I'm fine," I say, my voice higher than normal. "I just... I wanted to help with the dishes. It's the least I can do."
"Not necessary," he says gruffly. "You're a guest."
"I insist." I move toward him, drawn like a magnet. "Please. I need to feel useful."
He doesn't argue further, just shifts sideways at the sink, clearly trying to hide his arousal from me.
I step up beside him, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
For a moment, I imagine dropping to my knees right here on his kitchen floor, taking him in my mouth, showing him just how grateful I really am. ..
I push the thought away, horrified at myself. What is wrong with me? This man offered me shelter out of kindness, not because he wants me sexually.
I grab a towel and start drying the dishes he's washed, working alongside him in silence.
For a moment, everything seems normal. Just two adults doing a mundane household task.
But then he turns his head, shooting me a glance so intense, so fierce with barely contained desire that my legs actually wobble beneath me.
Our hands touch as he passes me a bowl, water splashing over both of us.
"Sorry," I murmur, my voice trembling. "Did I do something wrong?"
"No," he says, his voice strained. "But maybe we're standing too close."
"I'll give you some space," I say, starting to step back.
"Don't." The word comes out like it's been ripped from him. "Fuck." He runs a hand through his hair, leaving it deliciously mussed. "This isn't your fault. I'm just having... trouble... with such a gorgeous woman standing next to me."
I stare at him, certain I've misheard. "Gorgeous? Me?"
He makes a sound that's half laugh, half groan. "Are you serious? Have you looked in a mirror?"
I shake my head, genuinely confused. "I don't understand what you see in me. I'm the one who's having trouble standing next to you without feeling... troubled."
"What do you mean by that?" He's fully facing me now, no longer trying to hide the massive bulge in his jeans. It's even more impressive head-on, thick and long and just a few inches from ripping right through the denim.
My mouth goes dry. "You know what I mean."
He steps closer, crowding me against the counter. "Say it."
I clench my fists at my sides, embarrassment and arousal warring within me. "I'm ashamed, but... I'm wet. For you."
Something snaps in his expression. He scoops me up like I weigh nothing, strong arms lifting me with ease. Before I can process what's happening, he's carrying me to the living room, laying me on the couch, spreading my legs wide with his broad hands.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his blue eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "Because right now, I need to taste you."
I nod frantically, unable to believe this is happening.
No man has ever asked for my consent before.
No man has ever handled me with such ease, making me feel delicate rather than big.
I should be self-conscious about how wet I am.
My panties are soaked through, but this man battles infernos for a living.
How could a little moisture frighten him?
He doesn't even bother removing my underwear. He just pulls the fabric to the side with one finger, exposing my dripping pussy to his hungry gaze. He pushes my shirt—his shirt—up just enough to see my stomach, then bends down and buries his face between my thighs.
The first stroke of his tongue nearly makes me come right there. He's not gentle. He devours me like a starving man at a feast, broad tongue lapping at my folds, circling my clit with devastating precision.
"Oh my god," I gasp, my head falling back against the cushions. "Jimmy!"
He growls against my flesh, the vibration sending shockwaves through me. His large hands grip my inner thighs, spreading me wider, holding me open for him. I grab the hem of the t-shirt and pull it higher, needing to see him, to watch what he's doing to me.
The sight nearly undoes me. His handsome face is buried between my legs, my juices glistening in his beard, his eyes half-closed in concentration.
He doesn't miss a single spot, his tongue running the length of my slit, lapping hungrily at my entrance, then twirling around my clit until I'm gasping for air.
My toes curl as pleasure builds. I've never been this responsive, this close to the edge so quickly. But everything about this man—his strength, his intensity, his focus—drives me wild. He doesn't just eat pussy; he worships it, like he's performing a sacred task rather than a sexual act.
Just as I'm about to reach climax, he pulls back, his lips and chin slick with my juices.
"You taste fucking incredible," he says, his voice even deeper than usual. "The only reason I'm stopping is because I need to be inside you. Now."
The desperation in his tone sends another flood of wetness between my legs. I lean forward, reaching for his belt, fingers fumbling in my eagerness. He helps me, and the heavy leather belt hits the floor with a thud that seems to punctuate the moment. No turning back now.
He unfastens his jeans and pushes them down along with his briefs.
His cock springs free, and I gasp at the size of him.
He's huge. Thick and long and already leaking at the tip.
Before he can even step out of his pants, I wrap my hand around him, marveling at how my fingers can't fully close around his girth.
"Lily," he groans as I guide him to my lips, taking him into my mouth without hesitation.
I've never been particularly enthusiastic about this act before, but with Jimmy, I can't seem to get enough. I bob my head, taking him deeper with each thrust, gagging slightly when he hits the back of my throat but pushing through it. He's worth the discomfort. Worth everything.
He grunts each time I deepthroat him, his hands coming to rest gently on my head, not pushing, just holding. When I run my tongue along the sensitive underside of his cock, he makes a sound that's almost pained, his hips jerking involuntarily.
"Fuck, Lily, stop," he says after a few minutes.
I pull back immediately, concerned. "Did I hurt you? My bandages—"
"You were perfect," he assures me, chest heaving. "Too perfect. If you keep going, I'm going to finish in your mouth, and that would be a problem because I haven't fucked you yet."
I grin up at him, feeling bold in a way I never have before. "That would be a very significant problem," I agree, leaning back and spreading my legs wide in invitation. "So maybe you should do something about it."
His eyes darken as he looks down at me, sprawled on his couch, his shirt rucked up to my waist, legs open, pussy exposed and glistening with want. For a moment, he just stares, like he's memorizing the sight.
"You are so fucking beautiful," he says.
"Please, Jimmy," I whisper, beyond caring how desperate I sound. "I need you inside me."