Chapter Twenty-Two Jase #2
“You know,” I say, leaning against the doorframe, “there’s actually solid research supporting the idea that orgasms are more effective for pain relief than ibuprofen. Increased blood flow, endorphin release, muscle relaxation—”
“Are you serious right now?” she says.
“I went to Harvard,” I say. “For two semesters. I know things.”
She stares at me for a long moment.
Then she says, “Show me the research,” and the corner of my mouth lifts before I can stop it.
I follow her down the short hallway to her room. The door is already halfway open from when she went in earlier. I push it a little wider with my shoulder and step inside behind her.
The lamp on the nightstand is on, throwing soft light across the mattress and the few boxes still stacked in the corner. The room smells like clean sheets and whatever faint shampoo she used earlier.
Brielle turns to face me, arms loosely crossed, that skeptical little half-smile still playing on her lips.
“Two semesters at Harvard,” I say, keeping my voice low as I walk toward her. “I retained the important parts.”
She huffs a laugh, but it catches when I stop right in front of her and slide my hands under the hem of her hoodie. My palms settle on the warm skin of her waist. She doesn’t pull away.
I lean in and kiss her first, soft and easy. She kisses me back, tentative at first, then deeper, her hands coming up to rest on my chest. I taste the faint mint from her toothpaste and something sweeter that’s just her.
I push the hoodie and t-shirt up together, slow enough that she can stop me if she wants. She lifts her arms instead.
The fabric slips off and drops to the floor. Her bra is simple, black, and I reach behind her to unhook it, letting it fall away too. Her nipples tighten in the cool air of the room. I cup one breast, thumb brushing over the peak, and she inhales sharply.
“Still good?” I murmur against her mouth.
“Yeah,” she breathes. “Still good.”
I kiss my way down her neck, across her collarbone, then lower. When my mouth closes over her nipple, she makes a quiet sound that goes straight to my cock.
I suck gently, then harder, switching sides while my hand slides down her stomach. Her skin is warm and soft under my palm.
She starts to breathe faster as her fingers thread into my hair. I hook my fingers into the waistband of her sweatpants and panties and look up at her. Her eyes are dark, lips parted.
I hold her gaze while I drag the fabric down her hips, slow enough that she feels every inch of it sliding over her skin. The material catches briefly at the swell of her ass before it falls the rest of the way to her ankles.
She steps out of it, one foot at a time, and then she’s completely bare in front of me, the low lamplight painting warm shadows across her stomach and the smooth skin between her thighs.
I straighten, cup her face with both hands, and kiss her again, deeper this time. She moans softly into my mouth, the sound vibrating against my chest. My hands slide down her sides, over the curve of her waist, until I’m gripping her hips.
“Lie down for me,” I murmur against her lips.
She does, backing up until her knees hit the mattress and then lowering herself onto the bed.
I follow, crawling between her legs as she spreads them for me.
When I settle on my knees at the foot of the bed, I hook my arms under her thighs and pull her closer in one smooth motion, until her ass is right at the edge and her pussy is inches from my mouth.
She’s already glistening. The sight of her—pink and wet—makes my cock throb hard against the front of my sweatpants. I lean in and drag my tongue slowly from her entrance all the way up to her clit in one long, wet stroke.
Brielle’s entire body jolts. A broken little gasp escapes her, and her hands fly back to fist the sheets. I do it again, slower, savoring the slick heat of her, the way she tastes sweet and salty.
I close my lips around her clit and suck gently, then harder, flicking my tongue against the swollen bud in tight, relentless circles.
Her hips buck against my face. I tighten my grip on her thighs, holding her exactly where I want her, and slide two fingers inside her at the same time.
She’s so wet they glide in easily, and the low, needy sound she makes when I curl them against that soft spot inside her goes straight to my balls.
“Jase—fuck—” she whimpers, her voice cracking.
I groan against her pussy, the vibration making her thighs tremble around my head.
I keep the rhythm steady, my tongue working her clit in firm, wet strokes while my fingers thrust and curl inside her, stroking that spot over and over.
Her hips start rolling against my mouth in helpless little jerks, chasing the pleasure.
Every time I suck harder on her clit, she lets out a sharp, desperate moan that makes my cock leak against my pants.
I can feel her getting closer. Her walls flutter and clench around my fingers, her thighs shaking uncontrollably. I don’t change a thing. I keep sucking and licking and fucking her with my fingers until her back arches clean off the bed, and she comes hard with a broken cry.
Her pussy pulses around my fingers in tight, rhythmic waves. I keep my mouth on her through every shudder, licking her gently, drawing the orgasm out until she’s trembling and gasping, her hands tangled tight in my hair like she doesn’t want me to stop.
I press one last soft, open-mouthed kiss to her clit, then start to crawl up her body, trailing my mouth along her stomach, between her breasts, needing to kiss her while she’s still pulsing and warm and undone.
That’s when I catch the movement in the doorway.
Evan is leaning against the frame, arms crossed, watching us with that quiet, focused look on his face.