Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jason
Warning: Do Not Operate Heavy Machinery After This
Scottie sinks to her knees like she’s not about to end me.
Like this is casual. Like, I’m just one more thing on her list, somewhere between caffeine and chaos.
She presses her hands to my thighs, her fingers spreading wide, then trailing up like she’s mapping every inch for later. Her palms drag along my skin, and I shiver like a guy who hasn’t been touched in years—which, okay, not technically accurate, but nothing has ever felt like this.
She smirks. That fucking smirk.
Then she leans in and licks the base of my cock.
One long, slow stripe.
Like it’s ice cream on a hot day.
Like she’s tasting me.
“Fuck,” I gasp, my head hitting the back of the couch with a dull thunk. “You’re trying to kill me.”
She doesn’t answer.
Because now her mouth is on my balls, tongue warm and wet as she sucks one into her mouth like she’s doing this to ruin me on purpose. My thighs twitch. My abs tighten.
“Scottie—fuck—baby, please?—”
She pulls back, eyes sparkling with wicked glee, one hand wrapped around the base of my cock like she owns it. Then she flicks her tongue over the tip, slow and cruel, lapping up the precum like it’s frosting.
“Fuck,” I groan, fisting my hands in her hair. Not to guide her. Not even to hold her back. Just to survive.
And she knows.
She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“You like that?” she asks, licking just under the head, dragging her tongue down my shaft before kissing the base.
I growl.
Fucking growl.
“I might just go home and keep you hard . . .” She smirks.
“Get your mouth back on my cock,” I say, voice like gravel, “before I flip you over and make you choke on it.”
Her eyes flash—heat and challenge—and then she fucking smiles.
She takes me into her mouth again, slower this time, like she wants me to snap.
Her tongue swirls, her cheeks hollow, and I can’t stop the moan that rips from my throat.
Her hand strokes what she can’t fit, tight and slick, twisting at the base while her mouth works the rest.
“You’re so fucking good. That mouth.” I bite out, hips flexing. “Fuck, you look so fucking pretty like this.”
She hums around me—a smug little ‘fuck you’ hum—and it vibrates all the way through my spine.
My head drops forward, and I watch. Watch my cock disappear between her lips, watch her tongue flick the underside, watch her eyes flutter like she’s the one unraveling.
Except she’s not.
I am.
My control’s hanging by a thread so thin it might as well be imaginary.
“Scottie,” I pant, voice strangled. “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna come down your throat, and you’ll only have yourself to blame.”
She pulls back—slow, dragging her tongue along the tip one last time—then strokes me twice, still meeting my gaze with that I-run-this-shit look that makes me want to ruin her.
“Maybe I want you to.”
Her voice is calm. Controlled. Like she hasn’t just burned the last of my restraint to the fucking ground.
And then she opens her mouth.
Just . . . opens it.
Tongue out. Eyes on mine. That look.
My hips jerk before I can stop them. She wraps her lips around me again, deep and tight, and, fuck—I’m gone.
I grip her hair, trying to hold on to something, but the second she hums around the head of my cock, I lose it.
“Scottie—fuck—oh, fuck, I’m?—”
I come hard, groaning like I’m dying, hips stuttering, the orgasm ripping through me so fast and brutal I actually see stars. My thighs shake, my abs seize, and she takes it all. Swallows around me like a goddamn pro, lips sealed tight, eyes never leaving mine.
I don’t think I’ve ever looked sexier or dumber in my life.
She pulls back with a soft pop, licking her lips slowly like she’s savoring it.
“Fucking hell,” I rasp, chest still heaving. “You’re trying to kill me.”
She smirks. Wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“Still alive, aren’t you?”
“Barely.” I blink. Then move.
I grab her by the waist and toss her back—onto my bed, thank fuck, soft and rumpled, sheets still warm from round one. She lands with a gasp, legs falling open just enough to tempt me into losing my mind all over again.
I yank the boxer briefs I lent her off. “It’s your turn.”
Her eyes flare. “You don’t have to?—”
I cut her off with a growl.
“Oh, I want to.”
I crawl between her thighs, hands sliding under them to anchor her where I want her. She tries to sit up, maybe to argue, maybe to grab control again, but I push her back down with a firm hand to her stomach.
“Stay there. Let me have this.”
Her eyes darken. Her breathing stutters.
She stays.
I press a kiss to the inside of her knee first, then trail them higher. Soft. Purposeful. Worship disguised as teasing. Her thighs tremble by the time I reach her center, already soaked and slick from how wrecked I made her earlier.
I blow across her pussy. Just once.
She gasps, hips lifting.
“Jason—”
“Nope.” I nuzzle her slit, tongue barely flicking her clit. “You don’t get to tease and then not get ruined.”
I drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit, slow and greedy. Then I suck—firm, deliberate. Her whole body arches off the bed.
Perfect.
I slip two fingers inside her while my mouth latches onto her clit, and fuck me. She’s so wet I could drown in her. My fingers curl inside, dragging across that spot that makes her legs quake and her moans go high and broken.
“Right there?” I mumble against her, lips brushing her folds. “That what you need, Scottie?”
She chokes on my name, nodding like she’s praying I don’t stop.
So I don’t.
I lick her like it’s my last goddamn meal, fingers fucking her slow and deep, tongue relentless on her clit until she’s gasping, writhing, grabbing the headboard like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.
“You gonna come on my mouth, baby?” I ask, voice low and thick. “Gonna soak my face like the good girl you are?”
Her entire body locks. Then shatters.
She cries out—loud and desperate—and comes with a force that rocks through her like a wave, thighs squeezing my head, nails clawing at the sheets.
And I don’t stop.
I lick through it, into it, tasting every twitch and tremble until she’s whimpering, wrecked, breathless, and twitching beneath me.
Only then do I pull back. Crawl up her body. Kiss her hard and messy, like I didn’t just watch her fall apart for me in my bed.
She blinks up at me, dazed and glowing.
“Fuck,” she whispers. “What was that?”
I grin. “That was me being polite.”
She laughs—low and wrecked—and damn if that sound doesn’t settle in my chest like a fucking sunrise.
I lean in and kiss her. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just deep. Tongue slow, lips pressed to hers like I’ve got something to say, and this is the only language I’ve got left.
She kisses me back like she’s starting to believe I mean it.
Maybe this isn’t just sweat and orgasms and a mattress that still smells like sex.
And maybe it’s not.
Because when I pull back, I don’t see the cocky smartass who just dropped to her knees and made me forget my name.
I see the girl who made me want more.
More nights like this.
More mornings with her stealing my hoodies and pretending she doesn’t care.
More of us.
And that’s when it hits me.
I’ve got a new dream now.
One I never saw coming.
Her.
Ella Crawford, in my bed, under my skin, in my fucking bloodstream.
And I have no idea how the hell I’m supposed to keep her—how to make this real without scaring her off or screwing it up or watching her slip through my fingers like everything else I’ve ever wanted too much.
But for right now, she’s here.
Soft skin. Wrecked lips. Legs tangled with mine.
And I kiss her one more time, just to prove I can.
Just to keep her in this moment.
Even if I still don’t know how to make her stay with me forever. I have to pull off a miracle here. I just don’t know how.