Chapter Twenty
Mara-Present
Us-James Bay
“So I hear you had quite an adventure,” Dylan greets me when he enters the kitchen for breakfast. It’s that moment that Jason comes in from the garage gym.
With my back to him, I don’t have to make awkward eye contact. I can’t believe I basically asked him “was it good for you?” last night. I sound like an insecure virgin.
Well, half of that is true.
After I put the English muffin breakfast sandwiches on the table, we all take a seat in our usual spots.
It’s such a mundane and ordinary morning considering what occurred less than twenty-four hours ago.
“How are you feeling today?” Dylan asks me.
“Tired,” I answer truthfully. “I feel like I haven’t slept in a week and ran marathons the whole time. But other than that, nothing wrong.”
Dylan scoffs, “Pft. Sounds kinda harsh. You should relax today and let your body recover.”
“No, it’s ok. I want to help. I’ll go feed the animals,” I start to rise but Jason’s motions catch my eye.
He pats his chest and makes a swiping motion as of to say done.
Looking from him to the barn through the window, I ask, “You already fed them?”
He nods.
That’s an uncharacteristically nice gesture.
I wonder if he woke up earlier than me to do the chores and workout on purpose, or if he never went back to sleep after I left.
The feeling of his body wrapped around mine is tattooed on my skin. Not because it was arousing but because of the gentle touches and intimate way he held me. It seemed like something a boyfriend and girlfriend might do. But that might be taking it a little too far.
It didn’t occur to me until I went back to my room that I’ve never been held like that before.
Neither of my exes would hold me after sex.
I’ve never had a man in my life who did things for me just to make me happy.
My father gave me attention and presents because it was expected of him.
My exes gave me flowers and chocolates when they fucked up and wanted to win my good graces back.
I’ve never had a man who cooked for me just because, or held me without the expectation of more.
While I should be thrilled I experienced that with Jason, even if it was under odd circumstances, it makes me jealous. I feel cheated out of those experiences with the men who were supposed to give me that kind of unconditional affection.
“Thank you,” I tell Jason. Then I scoop up our plates and begin washing them.
There’s nothing dire that has to be done today. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. And my body does feel like it needs more rest. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to take today off and read for a while. Maybe I can do some chores in the afternoon.
That was my plan, anyway. But I must have fallen asleep while reading. I woke with a start when a heavy weight shifted the couch at my feet, startling me out of my slumber.
Jason sits at the end of the couch where my body stretched in my sleep. One arm leaning on my bent legs, the other hand holds the book I was reading. Wuthering Heights. I’ve noticed the collection of books in his library tend to lean more toward the classics.
I read a lot of smut before, but beggars can’t be choosers.
Besides, reading classic literature without the expectation of writing papers and giving PowerPoint presentations in class makes them far more enjoyable.
“Sorry.” I prop myself up on my elbow. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep. What time is it?”
Knowing he won’t answer, I look to the large clock on the wall. Two o’clock in the afternoon. I don’t even know what time I feel asleep, let alone how long I’ve been out.
Jason hands the book back to me, open to the page I must have left off on.
“Have you read this before?” He nods.
“Did you bring all these books up here?” He shakes his head.
“Did your mom?” Another nod.
“Did she read to you often?” Jason sways his head from side to side as if to say sometimes.
“I hated this book the first time I read it,” I confess.
“Must have been junior year of high school. I thought it was so slow. And then I had to write a one thousand word essay on it. To this day, I couldn’t tell you what the essay covered.
I barely remembered the plot until I picked it up again.
It’s like I’m reading it for the first time.
Makes me want to read books like The Great Gatsby and Grapes of Wrath again. ”
Jason’s tall form rises from the couch and goes to the bookshelf where he extracts a gray fabric bound hardcover from the middle shelf and hands it to me.
Pride and Prejudice
“I’ve read this three times,” I tell him. “By the time I had to read it for school and write a paper on it, I practically had it memorized. It’s a right of passage for a book girl.” I laugh.
Instead of taking it back, Jason lifts my legs beneath the blanket he must have thrown over me while I slept, slides his lower body beneath my legs, then lays them on his lap.
Staring expectantly, I get his message to commence reading Pride and Prejudice aloud.
All the while, Jason stares directly at me with such an intensity it’s tangible.
I can feel the weight of his gaze and the severe shift in it.
He used to fire daggers at me from his eyes.
Now, it feels more like he is assessing me.
It’s no longer a glower but a pensive, considering gaze.
After dinner, Jason hands the book back to me to continue reading so we reoccupy our positions on the couch and resume the text.
I have no idea how long we sit there. Even Dylan listens for a while before heading up stairs for the night.
At the end of the current chapter, Jason leans over me to place the ribbon I used as a bookmark between the pages and shuts the book gently.
After placing the book on the end table beside the arm of the couch, he slides out from beneath my legs and scoops me into his arms so I’m forced to cling to him for stability.
He lets his eyes rest on my face, my eyes, my lips, before watching his steps as he climbs the stairs.
This is so uncharacteristic of him. I don’t really know what to make of him carrying me in such a romantic gesture.
But there’s not much time to consider it before he lays me gingerly on the bed so I lie side to side, not end or end.
I become acutely aware of the fact that I haven’t changed out of the shirt I took from him last night and the shorts I made all day.
They must smell like sleep sweat. But it becomes less of an issue as Jason slides them down my quads, over me knees and ankles, and slips them off my legs.
He starts kissing his way up my right leg, switching between leaving achingly soft fires with his lips and burning desire with the scratch of his beard against my soft skin.
When he gets to my hip bone, Jason leaves a little bite and adds his hands to the mix as they apply firm pressure on my sides, scaling up my body, taking his shirt with them until he pulls it over my head and up-stretched arms. At the sight of my naked body, nipples hard with nervous anticipation, his eyes visibly darken as though shadows fall over his eye sockets.
Lust, pure lust. He looks like he needs to own me.
I feel his leering just as much as his hands as he scans every curve of my body, every contour, every line. The pent up energy fizzling beneath my skin makes me want to squirm under his touch but I fight to stay still, to not back down from whatever this is.
And whatever this is, it’s different. So different. We’ve fucked, before, we bang and bone. This feels like…more.
As his stormy stare lands on the apex of my thighs, Jason lowers his head so the point of his tongue can flick my clit, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.
He follows that with a long, languid trail of his tongue pressed flat against my flesh from bottom to top.
I can’t help it, my body arches into him as it silently begs for more.
The first time he ate me out, it was feverish. This time feels lazy in the best way, as though he has nothing better to do than bury his face in me for the rest of the night. As if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
Every stroke of his tongue drives me closer to explosion.
Every flick and lapping motion makes it harder and harder to keep quiet.
He’s meticulous with every touch knowing just how to drive me fucking crazy.
Knowing the right moves to fill my orgasm without letting it spill over yet.
I’m completely at his mercy. This feels more vulnerable than confessing my darkest secrets.
I’m entrusting so much to a man who has notoriously hated me.
It’s too intense, now, it feels like my orgasm has been walking a tightrope for so long it’ll fall any moment.
I’ll fall. I can’t handle the edge of pain and pleasure from balancing so long.
But he gives me my relief with a hard suck of my clit, sucking me into his cheeks to detonate me.
I explode. I don’t know up from down, left from right, where I end and he begins.
My body just quakes under him until Jason releases me so he can scale up my body until we’re face to face.
The sight of me glistening on his lips does something riveting in my soul.
I’m his. I want to be his and I want him to be mine even knowing that’s not his style, not what he wants. But I know at this moment that’s what I am, under his spell.
Thinking I need to return the favor, I try to reach my hand down between us so I can grip him, but Jason grabs my wrist before I can wrap my fingers around his dick and lifts my arm above my head, pinning it in place with his strong clutch.
The fire in his eyes tells me he’s in charge, just the way he wants it.
Suddenly it occurs to me. Last night I told him about my insecurities, I told him about how my exes were and he’s proving that a healthy sexual relationship doesn’t always have to be a 50/50 exchange of effort in every encounter. It’s a balance over all.
He wants me to enjoy every second of this without overthinking it, without trying to figure out if he’s enjoying himself.
He is. I don’t know how I know that but I can feel it right down to my curling toes.
Positioning himself with his free hand, Jason lines his cock up with me and slides in so seamlessly, so torturously slow.
Despite having an orgasm already, I need more.
I want to feel the complete fullness of him inside me, consuming every inch of me that he can take.
His girth stretches me to a point of almost pain that I love.
Once he’s seated inside of me, Jason takes his sweet time pulling out inch by inch, then back in at that slow pace, letting my body recover from the firm mind-blowing orgasm. Gradually, he picks up speed, but it’s still not enough.
It’ll never be enough.
With so much time between orgasms, I feel every muscle relax and tense again. I feel where the last climax ended and this new one starts to rise. My heaving breaths beg for more. Pulled taut like a bow string.
And my eyes tell him what I need. Because our eyes haven’t broken contact since he entered me.
Jason has kept me in his sights as long as he’s held himself above me.
Both wrists in one of his hands, now, the other holds my rib cage as each pump of his pelvis increases in intensity.
By the time he’s up to speed I can’t deny the one word to describe his body.
Power. He is power incarnate. His movements are powerful.
His body is brimming with power. He makes me feel so energized with it I don’t have any way to release that bottled energy under his pleasurable torment.
“Oh god,” I break the silence because I can’t hold my mouth shut anymore. “Jason, I—” I don’t know what I want to say. I’m just trying to release some of the crippling buzz inside me that he’s rattling, stirring. “I need to—”
He knows exactly what I need and shifts higher up the bed so his pelvic bone grinds against my clit while his dick creates beautiful friction inside me until I’m ready to explode again.
“Jason,” I cry out and he silences it with his mouth.
Jason Alder is kissing me.
Jason Alder is kissing me.
And all the while my body convulses beneath his. Nipples vibrating against his chest. Thighs clenching to him for dear life. Arms straining against his hold begging to feel him.
Jason kisses me passionately through my rupture until I’m a puddle of weak limbs and blissful sweat beneath him.