Chapter 10
More Than Enough
Jake
I kiss her until she stops thinking.
I can feel the moment it happens. The tension in her shoulders releasing, her hands uncurling from my shirt, her body going soft and pliant against mine. She moans softly into my mouth, somewhere between a sigh and a surrender, and something in my chest settles.
No stopping this time.
I pull back just enough to look at her. Her lips are kiss-swollen, her eyes dark and heavy, her hair already coming loose around her face. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and I’ve spent far too long trying not to notice.
I’m done trying.
“Hold on,” I murmur.
Her brow furrows. “Wha—”
I bend and hook an arm under her knees, the other around her back, and lift her clean off the couch. She gasps, arms flying around my neck. “Jake!”
“I’ve got you.”
She laughs—surprised and breathless—and the sound has my chest expanding as I carry her down the hall. The bedroom door is already open. I cross the threshold, and when I reach the bed, I give her a light toss. She falls onto the mattress with a soft bounce.
She gasps again, then dissolves into giggles, her dark hair fanning out across the floral bedding. Her gaze finds mine and she’s grinning up at me, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling fast, and I just…stop. I stare at her for a moment.
“What?” she breathes, still smiling.
“Nothing,” I say, my voice rough with the need to have her. “Just looking.”
Her smile softens into something that does me in completely.
I reach back and pull my shirt over my head, dropping it on the floor. Her gaze moves over me, cataloging my tattoos—the compass rose, the anchor, the script along my bicep—and the open appreciation on her face makes my jaw tighten and my cock swell.
She shivers under my gaze.
I step forward and reach for the hem of her camisole and tug upward.
She sits up obligingly, arms lifting as I pull it over her head and send it the same direction as my shirt.
Her bra follows. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts, taking her panties with them, and draw them down her legs slowly, deliberately, watching her.
She’s bare in the low light, all warm skin and soft curves, and I straighten. I stare at her for another long moment, taking my time, letting myself have this—have her. Because no matter what she claims, I don’t truly believe I deserve her, but I’m going to give her everything I have.
A flush creeps up her chest. “Jake.”
“God, Peyton.” The words scrape out of me. “Do you have any idea—” I shake my head. “Just let me look at you, baby.”
She goes still, her breath unsteady, letting me, watching me.
I take one more second, then I plant a knee on the mattress and lower myself over her, bracing on my forearms, and kiss her slow and deep until she’s arching up against me with a soft whimper.
I start working my way down. Her throat, the soft skin below her ear, the curve of her neck, the hollow of her collarbone. I take my time at each one, feel her pulse jump under my lips, hear the way her breathing changes. Her fingers slide into my hair, my name on her full lips.
“Mm.” I drag my mouth lower.
Her breasts are perfect—full and soft, her nipples tightening the moment I breathe over them. I cup one in my hand, feel her sharp inhale as my thumb brushes across the peak. I take her into my mouth and her back arches clean off the mattress.
Every sound she makes when I suck and tease and drag my tongue across her pert nipple is better than the last. By the time I move to the other side she’s got both hands fisted in my hair and she’s saying my name like a litany, broken and breathless.
Jake. Jake. Jake.
I could live on the sound of it.
“Please,” she finally gasps. “Please, I need—”
“I know what you need.” I press a kiss to the underside of her breast. “I’ll get there.”
“Jake.”
“Patience, sweetheart.”
She makes a sound that’s half moan, half laugh, and I grin against her sternum.
I kiss down her stomach. Trace the curve of her hip with my mouth.
Feel her thighs tremble on either side of me as I work my way lower, taking my time, pressing my lips to the inside of one knee, then dragging slowly upward.
She’s squirming now, her hips lifting off the mattress, chasing the contact I’m not giving her yet.
I breathe against her inner thigh and she whimpers.
Fuck.
She’s slick and needy, and the sound she makes when I finally put my mouth on her hot pussy goes straight through me like a current.
I grip her thighs and hold her open. I take my time learning what makes her gasp, what makes her hips buck, what makes her say my name in that desperate way that makes precum drip from the swollen head of my cock currently straining in my jeans.
I find the combination she craves—the one she needs.
Long, slow strokes of my tongue until she’s shaking.
I lick tight circles around her clit until she’s gripping the sheets and panting.
I slide two fingers inside her and feel her clench immediately.
She cries out as I curl them forward while my mouth keeps working her slick clit.
She shatters within minutes, her thighs locking around my head, her whole-body shuddering.
I work her through every wave. I don’t stop until her trembling subsides and she goes limp against the mattress.
Then I start again.
“Jake,” she breathes, squirming in a weak attempt to pull away. “I can’t—”
“You can.” I press a kiss to her inner thigh, nipping at the soft flesh. “Give me one more.”
She drops her head back and moans.
Her second orgasm is slower to build, but deeper when it hits. I feel it in the way she tightens around my fingers, hear it in the way my name comes out of her this time—low and trembling. Her hand fists my hair, holding on, and I stay with her until she’s completely, utterly spent.
I press one last kiss to her trembling pussy and push to my feet.
She’s a vision. Hair destroyed, lips parted, chest heaving, eyes glazed and heavy. Undone and laid out across her bed like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever wrecked. She blinks up at me slowly, like she’s trying to remember how to work her eyes.
I reach for my belt buckle.
Her gaze drops. She pushes herself up onto her elbows, watching me with dark eyes as I unbuckle my belt, pop the button of my jeans. I’ve barely gotten the zipper down when she sits up fully, swings her legs over the edge of the mattress, and reaches for me.
Last night I stopped her. Took her hand and moved it away and watched something in her face shutter and close, and I’ve been hating myself for it for the last twenty-four hours.
Tonight, I let her.
Her fingers wrap around me and my head drops back, jaw tight, every muscle in my body locking down against the instinct to take over.
She takes her time the same way I took mine.
Learning me. I look down at her and the sight of her gazing back up at me while her hand moves over my hard length has heat building at the base of my spine.
“Peyton,” I groan.
She leans forward and takes me into her mouth.
My hand goes to her hair, needing something to grip while she tears down every wall I have left.
She moans around my throbbing length, taking me deeper.
Her head bobs up and down, shuttling my cock over her tongue and down her throat.
When she grips the base of me tightly… “Fuck, baby,” I moan.
She’s good, and she knows it, and the small sound of satisfaction she makes around me when my hips snap forward involuntarily nearly finishes me entirely.
I step back gently, her name a warning on my tongue.
She looks up at me, lips swollen, eyes dark, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Satisfied with herself. And, damn, she should be.
“Get on the bed,” I manage, my chest heaving with need.
She smiles as she scoots backward across the mattress, and I follow. I crawl after her until she’s backed up against the pillows and I’m caging her in with my arms on either side of her head.
Her hands rest on my chest as I lower myself over her. Her hips shift up toward me, and I groan, pressing my forehead to hers, and take a slow breath as something inevitable settles in my chest.
“I don’t have anything,” I murmur, her hand circling my cock, stroking and guiding me toward her wet heat. I hiss as she drags the raw head of my cock through her bare, slick pussy. “Peyton,” I hiss.
“I don’t care,” she whispers, seductive like the goddamn siren she is.
Mine.
I push inside her slowly, watching her. Her lips part on a soft exhale and her eyes flutter. Her nails bite into my shoulders as I start to move.
She meets every thrust, her hips rising to mine with the rhythm that builds between us. Slow at first, letting her snug walls accommodate my girth. My mouth moves to her jaw, her throat, her shoulder. Her nails drag down my back enough to leave marks for days and I shudder.
“More,” she breathes.
I stroke deep, bottoming out before pulling back only to slam into her with force.
Her head tips back against the pillow, throat bared, a broken moan escaping her as I pick up the pace.
I hook an arm under her knee, driving deeper.
She gasps, arching into me. I bury my face in her neck and let myself go.
Pounding into her with reckless abandon—taking, giving, marking.
My want turning to need.
She comes apart beneath me, her entire body tightening, pussy contracting in waves, my name on her lips, my face pressed to her hair. “That’s it, baby. Such a good fucking girl. Fuck.” I come—hard—following her over the edge buried deep with a broken moan of her name on my lips.
I hold us in the moment for a brief second, then fall to the bed with her in my arms. My cock still nestled between her thighs. We lie tangled in the dark. Her cheek against my chest, my arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
My hand moves in slow circles across her back. I press my lips to the top of her head. “You’re making it far too easy to fall for you, sweetheart,” I murmur into her hair.
She sighs, lifting her gaze to mine. A car passes outside, illuminating the room just long enough for me to see her and fall a little deeper into her world. “She would’ve liked you,” Peyton says softly.
I grin, slow and wide. “Yeah?”
“She had terrible taste in coffee,” she continues, “but excellent taste in people. She would’ve taken one look at you and said—” She drops her voice into a warm imitation. “—that one’s a keeper, baby girl.”
Something in my chest cracks open. Wide enough for her, and only her.
“Tell me more about her,” I say quietly, drawing her flush against me.
She does.
She talks until her words get slow, and at some point, she stops entirely. Her breathing evens out and her hand goes slack against my chest.
I lie in the dark, listening to her sleep.
The compass rose over my heart rises and falls with every breath. I got it originally as a reminder to always find my way back to the ones who matter. Home. And right now, in this moment, I know I have.
She is home.