Chapter 25 Rosie
Rosie
His lips don’t touch mine.
Not immediately. Instead, his eyes go hot, and the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen slides over his lips, and he sits up, forcing me to do so with him before his hands are on my hips, guiding me off the couch.
“Stand up, Rosie,” he says, and even though I’m confused, I do as he asks.
I’m rewarded for my obedience when his arms cross behind him, tugging until his long-sleeve Henley is off, tossed in some corner without a concern.
My eyes follow it on instinct, but I never find it because I’m distracted when he reaches for me.
The touch of his fingers on my heated skin snaps me back to attention, but I don’t watch his fingers as they move: I watch his face, fascinated by the subtle change, by the clear focus written there.
Slowly, reverently, with need and desire and something else I can’t quite describe, he begins to undress me.
His fingers glide up my belly underneath my sweater, moving to guide me to pull it over my head gently.
When it’s gone, tossed into the same corner his shirt went, I reach for him, desperate for his lips on mine.
My hands move to his jaw, trying to pull him into me, but he doesn’t let me.
Instead, he shifts away, not in a way that I find alarming, but adorably frustrating, especially when he smiles at me the way he does.
“Patience, Rosie. We’ve got all night. We’ve got as long as we need.
” For a quick moment, common sense speaks.
Not as long as we need, it says. Only until Halloween.
It settles uncomfortably in my gut, the knowledge, the confirmation, but then he’s leaning in, still sitting as I stand.
He presses a kiss to the place right above my panties, and all thoughts of timelines and expiration dates are long gone from my mind.
Even more when his fingers hook beneath the waistband of them, tugging them down just as gently as he’s done everything else.
This is not the normal version of us, the one where he takes control, where he bosses me around and I concede. This is different, achingly intimate in a way I should find worrisome, but my responsible mind is long gone, replaced by the one controlled by my need for Jack.
If it was still there, it might recognize that this is something more than friends with benefits, more than a placeholder until my happily ever after walks into my life. This is a complication, a diversion.
But I’m too far gone in him to even recognize it. Especially not when his hands move to my hips, when he pulls me to him until my knees are on either side of his hips on the couch cushion, when I steel onto his thighs.
His hands are moving, the fingers of one digging into my hips and lifting, guiding me to my knees, and the other going between my legs. I gasp as I feel his thumb on my swollen clit, pressing there before he slides two fingers inside me.
“Already so fucking wet for me,” he groans. I tighten around him at his words. I feel the heat of him beneath me, and even though pleasure fills me as his fingers crook inside of me, it’s not enough.
I need more.
I need him.
“Please,” I groan, my head tipping up, lips parted, desperate for his to touch mine.
“Not yet. I want you to come once for me, then you’re going to slide down onto my cock.
When you’re still riding that orgasm, you’re going to fill yourself with me so I can feel it.
Then you’re going to take both of us there again.
” His words are fire to my already heated body, and I try to lift my head, to get him to kiss me again, desperate for that connection, but he doesn’t give it to me.
He keeps his head down, watching where his fingers disappear into my body, where my hips move over them.
“Jack,” I whisper, his fingers working me hard before his head comes to rest on my shoulder, a heavy, heated groan leaving his lips.
“You’re so fucking hot, Rosie. Fuck. Take what you need, baby.
” That’s all it takes, that reminder once again that Jack always gives me what I need, always tells me to take what I need after I’ve spent my entire life taking care of others and putting them first. A moment later my head is snapping back, my eyes slamming shut as my body trembles, as I scream his name, drenching his fingers, and I come, hard.
“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his fingers leaving me to move to my hips. The wet feel of them on my skin has my pussy clenching again, even more so when he lines the head of his cock up with my entrance, sliding just the tip in.
“Jack,” I breathe, still confused. He said he wants to initiate the kiss bond, but we haven’t even touched lips since he said it. “Why aren’t—”
But the words are cut short when one hand moves to the back of my head, twining in my hair and tipping it back with a gentleness that isn’t typical for when we’re together like this.
My eyes take a moment to focus, pleasure and the promise of more pleasure still moving through me like a drug, before I see his eyes.
He’s hiding nothing.
Desire and need, and utter adoration are clear in his eyes. His hand shifts to my jaw, the other still on my hip, and his thumb moves over my cheek. It should stop me in my tracks, but I can’t do anything but stare at him, sure the same is reflected on my own face.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Rosemary,” he whispers.
“I need you to know that. SO fucking beautiful, and so fucking mine.” Confusion tinges my arousal, but I can’t focus on that.
Not when I’m throbbing around him, not when he’s stretching me in the most blissful way, not when my mind is still filled with orgasmic bliss.
And certainly not when he grabs one of my hands in his, placing it on his cheek and holding it there, his other hand moving to the back of my head to pull me down before I press my lips to his.
It happens, then, that familiar tingle of my magic coating me, leaving me, moving along him. Those ties that start in my chest and end in his, tightening, a now familiar ache setting in and easing with his closeness just as quickly.
The bond feels electric and soft at the same time.
That feeling you get when you’ve laughed for hours on end with your best friend, mixed with the butterflies of your crush smiling at you for the first time.
In books and testimonies, it’s described as euphoric and ticklish, as a nuisance, and also as orgasmic.
It seems everyone has a different take on it, and according to some articles I found, even the person you’re bonding with can make it feel different.
For me, with Jack, it feels like that airy feeling of falling in love. That feeling I’ve been chasing my entire life, the one I’ve been reading about.
I wonder if it would always feel like that.
If I kept a bond with someone for eternity, would it always feel like those first days, weeks, or months of falling in love?
That blissful feeling of walking on air that I’ve always been told would settle into my soul when I found the person put on this earth to be mine: could the bond replicate it forever?
Thoughts are written over with feelings quickly, thankfully, as he starts to move my hips up and down, helping me to fuck him.
We never stop kissing, bumping teeth and nipping at lips, and it doesn’t take long before I come with his lips on mine, the feeling starting in my chest rather than my pussy, though the euphoric feeling of pleasure tightening and then snapping takes over my entire body, and at the same time, he groans into my mouth, finishing with me.
His hand on my hips holds me down, trying to get deeper, to join our bodies further than they are somehow, like he wants to somehow find a way to get even closer to me, a feeling I desperately understand, especially right now, when he’s inside of me, when I can feel our hearts beating in time frantically.