Chapter 15 Violet #2
His hands slide up my legs, along my hips, my waist, my ribs, slow as if he’s worshipping my skin. His mouth follows, trailing hot, demanding kisses along my jaw, my throat, the scar there.
His fingers find the button of my jeans, and my lady bits immediately start doing the cucaracha.
“Is this okay?” he asks, voice low, careful.
“Yes,” I breathe. “It’s more than okay. It’s so okay I have to fist my hands at my sides so I don’t smash your face into my... okay, I’m gonna shut up now.”
His chuckle reverberates through me as he slides my jeans off, the motion smooth, unhurried, and tosses them somewhere to the side. My first thought is crap, please don’t let me trip over those later.
Then I stop myself.
You are about to have a man do… things… to you on your kitchen counter and you’re worried about a mess? Priorities, Violet. So I distract myself by making short work of removing my shirt and bra.
“Your turn,” I say.
He laughs softly. “Greedy, are we?”
“Seems only fair.”
I hear the soft rustle of his T-shirt being pulled over his head. He takes my hands gently, guiding them to his chest. Smooth skin, a light dusting of hair between two very defined pecs. My palms feel scorched from the heat radiating off him.
He trails my hands down his abs, and my brain short-circuits.
Where’s that honey when you need it? I could lick this man clean for a second dessert.
He steps back slightly. “Lie there for me,” he murmurs. “With your legs open. I want to look at you.”
I gulp. Actually gulp. Because I can’t see what he sees. I had the last of my laser hair removal about a month before the accident, so I know I’m smooth as a bowling ball down there, but vulnerability is vulnerability.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes. “Tell me, Violet… did you ever look at yourself before the accident? Do you know how pretty you are down here?”
Holy…
My lady bits clamp down hard enough to crack walnuts. No one has ever spoken to me like this, and I like it. A lot.
“Answer me, beautiful. Tell me if you ever looked while you made yourself come.”
Something in his voice, the roughness, the reverence, hits my hearing like velvet dragged over skin. Sensual. Impossible. Wickedly intimate.
“No,” I whisper.
“Then I’ll describe how fucking gorgeous you are. But first…,” he says.
He moves away, and I instantly miss him. I prop myself onto my elbows.
The freezer opens, and I hear the scrape of the wire basket against the side of the freezer. The hollow clink of an ice tray.
My entire body lights up.
Please let the ice be for me. Please let the ice be for me.
The tap of ice against teeth makes my breath catch. Then cool lips find mine. Impossibly cold, impossibly delicious. I part my lips, and ice melts against my tongue.
He works his way down my body, trailing the chill along my neck, over my collarbone. I shiver, but not from cold. From sheer anticipation.
Down, over the curve of my breast, to my nipple, causing the bud to pucker. A moan tears from my throat as I arch off the counter. If he keeps this up, I’m going to explode right now.
But he doesn’t, much to the dismay of my aching pussy.
He takes his time, slowly, torturously, sliding the melting ice down my stomach, circling my navel, drifting lower and lower until…
“Oh!” The sound escapes me before I can stop it. The ice hits my clit. It doesn’t feel overwhelming the way I expected. It feels… perfect.
“Fuck, Violet. Your pretty pink pussy is begging me for more,” he murmurs. “All for me. I can feel you wanting more. Do you want more, Violet? Should I make you come?”
“Please.” My cheeks flame. I’ve never begged in my life.
He lifts my chin gently, pressing a cool kiss to my heated cheek. “I don’t ever want you to feel embarrassed for asking me to pleasure you. Understand?”
I can’t speak. My brain has latched onto the word pleasure.
“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you understand.”
Holy moly… I might come from his words alone. “I… I understand.”
“Good girl.”
And that’s when my soul leaves my body.
“Now lie back,” he says, voice dropping to a sinful rumble, “and let me taste you.”
Wait, cancel that, this is when my soul leaves my body.
He lowers himself, and his cool tongue sweeps up from my entrance to my clit. The sensation steals my breath. The cool lips in contrast with his hot breath is gentle and so damn devastating. It’s too much and entirely not enough. My muscles coil with tension.
“Please…” I don’t know what I’m begging for. My mouth has a mind of its own. I cry out, my entire body tightening, trembling. He places his thumb at my entrance. He doesn’t slide it inside, just rubs me in torturous circles.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans softly. “Let me hear your sounds. Let me feel you fall apart for me.”
And I do.
Right there on the kitchen counter, I break open, heat and ice and release crashing through me, bright and overwhelming and absolutely, impossibly perfect.
Jason’s chuckle is like a warm cloth gently pulling me out of the haze of my orgasm. I lie there with my hand over my eyes, limbs useless, brain floating.
“Why are you laughing?” I mutter.
“Because you’re fucking adorable.”
I try to sit up, but my body is boneless. “I’m not trying to be adorable. I’m supposed to be sexy.”
I feel a pout forming and instantly hate myself for it.
His lips trail from my ankle to the inside of my knee, slow and sweet. “Oh, you’re definitely a lethal combination of both.”
He shifts closer, his breath warming my lips. I can smell myself on him. The realization sends a fresh wave of heat rolling through my body. A thought pops into my mind before I can stop it.
No… I couldn’t.
“What is it?” Jason asks, amusement threading through his voice like he already knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“It’s nothing.”
“What did I tell you about being embarrassed?”
I bite my lip. Hard. “I was just wondering how I taste.”
“Here,” he murmurs, “let me show you.”
He dips down, his slick mouth finding mine, and a small, startled sound escapes me.
“Oh.” I sigh.
“Good, right?”
Shockingly… yes.
“Do you want more, beautiful?”
I nod—probably too fast. His finger moves down my body, and then slides inside me. He brings it to my lips, swiping my arousal across them. I dart my tongue out, and holy fuck, why is that so hot?
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think you could… fuck me?”
His breath stutters. “Beautiful, it would be my pleasure.”
He sweeps me into his arms effortlessly and carries me out of the kitchen and up the stairs. It doesn’t even occur to me how he knows where my bedroom is. All I can think of is the vibration between us. Suddenly, I’m on the bed, breathless, boneless, wanting.
“Sit up for me.”
I obey instantly. At this point, he could ask me to swan-dive into lava and I’d probably do it. That low, dangerous, sinful tone hits me in places that should be illegal.
“Undress me,” he says. He takes my hands and places them on his belt.
“All right,” I whisper, “but I need something first.”
“Name it.”
I duck my head. “Can you take your belt off? I want to hear the sound of the leather through the loops.”
His chuckle is warm coffee on a winter morning. “I can certainly do that for you.”
He slides the belt free in one smooth, delicious motion. The sound vibrates through me, straight to where I’m still throbbing.
“Okay,” I murmur, “I’m ready to undress you now.”
“Good,” he growls. “Because I’m ready to be inside you.”
The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.
“Do you have any idea what your mouth does to me? Your words… I mean, your words. Not that your mouth—never mind.”
Another chuckle. God, it’s like his laugh is directly wired to my clit.
I start unbuttoning his jeans, and of course he’s wearing the kind with a thousand buttons instead of a zipper. Thank you, Jesus! As my hands drift lower, I brush against him and…
Oh.
Well.
This is about to be fun.
When the last button slips free and I push his jeans down, something else slips free too.
Hello, commando.
He takes my hand. “Touch me, Violet. See me with your fingers. Read me the way you’d read a face.”
I do.
My fingertips trace slowly over his length—the veins, the ridges, the heat, the smoothness of skin stretched over muscle. Every now and then, he sucks in a breath, and each sound goes straight to my core.
When I reach his head, I brush my thumb over the top, gathering the bead of precum and swirling it around the base of his head.
He groans—a raw, low sound that seems to vibrate through the room.
“Can I taste you?” I whisper.
He doesn’t answer with words, just a deep, guttural groan. His large hand wraps gently around my fingers, guiding his cock to my mouth.
I flick my tongue over him, moaning at the delicious taste.
His hips jut forward, and he grips my head as I open wider, taking him in. His moans echo mine.
His cock slides over my tongue, satiny smooth, and I moan again. He feels so good. God, he feels good. The sensation is almost too much, overwhelming and intoxicating.
I grip his firm ass for balance. How is he standing while I nearly came apart lying down? I take him deeper, deeper, deeper until his cock hits the back of my throat.
My eyes water, stars bursting behind my lids. Stars I haven’t seen in a year.
When he swells in my mouth, pleasure spikes through me. He’s going to come, and that sends a rush of wicked power flooding through my veins.
But then his thumb touches my chin, urging me back.
“Fuck, Violet, I’m so close. I’ve been warring with myself whether to come in that sexy mouth, but I want to make you feel good again. Will you let me come inside you? Inside that sweet, perfect pussy?”
My entire body answers before I do, and I let him press me gently down onto the bed. I hear him retrieve something from the floor, then the crinkle of foil as he rips open the condom and hands it to me.
“Put this on, beautiful.”
The scent of latex mixes with sex and heat. My hands tremble as I slowly roll the condom onto his hard length.
“Lie back down for me.”
I do.
And then, slowly, he pushes inside me. “Fuck, you feel perfect.” He doesn’t move. Doesn’t thrust. He remains still, giving me time to adjust.
Time to breathe.
Time to want.