Chapter Eighteen #2
I swallow her laugh with my mouth, kissing her and dragging her ass to the edge of the counter.
She gasps when my fingers dig into her thighs before one of my hands moves between her legs and teases her lips.
Another sound rips through her as I suck her tongue and graze the tips of my fingers over her entrance. She’s soaked for me. For me.
There are so many questions I want to ask her.
How many times have you thought about this?
What do you think about when you use your toy to get off?
What is the one thing you’ve always wanted to do with me?
But I can’t get any of those questions out because I’m afraid one honest answer would make me come in my goddamn pants again.
Plus, I plan on making sure there isn’t one thing we don’t do while I have the opportunity.
I circle her clit with my fingers and tease her entrance, barely probing her before repeating the motion over and over until her moans become more frequent.
She’s wet and ready and needy, and it’s a big turn on.
But this isn’t how I want to get her off.
I bend down until my face is between her legs exactly how I’ve pictured it a million times in my head, draping her legs over my shoulders and feasting on her wet pussy like it’s my last goddamn meal.
“Jesse,” she yells in shock, her knees locking my head into place as her hips thrust up and suffocate me. Hell yes. I feel her convulse as I give all my attention to her clit until she’s quivering and yanking my hair and begging me to stop and then to keep going and then to stop again.
I love every mumbled moan.
Every, “Too much.”
And “Oh my God.”
And “I’m going to come already.”
But it’s the cut off, “Holy sh—” that makes me nearly come undone myself.
She screams when my tongue goes inside her and my nose presses against her clit, and the way she grabs my hair has a bite of pain that I don’t mind at all. I let her ride my face as the orgasm crashes into her, taking everything she has to give until her body finally goes limp on the counter.
I take my time licking my lips, peppering soft kisses along the inside of her thigh, before standing.
I’m careful to lower her legs off my shoulders and grin when I see how she’s splayed across the counter trying to catch her breath.
Her eyes are closed, and I can’t help but watch her tits move with each rapid breath she takes.
She really is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. And she’s mine. The thought comes out of nowhere, punching me hard in the sternum. But she is mine, and she’s always felt like mine somehow. Even early on in our friendship, we’d had a connection that felt deeper than most.
The territorial feeling has me moving her off the counter and cradling her against me. “You okay?” I ask softly, seeing how dirty she is from me laying her in the flour and God only knows what else. She’s covered. It’s in her hair. On her skin. Everywhere.
“I think I died,” she admits, making me snort.
I take her to my room and set her down on her feet before starting the shower. As much as I want to lick every inch of her body until she’s clean, I think this will be easier.
Once the water is right, I strip off the rest of my clothes until I’m as naked as she is.
Belle gapes, her eyes roaming over the six-pack I’ve managed to maintain over the years thanks to my discipline in the kitchen and gym.
Truthfully, I never cared that much about being built.
I cared more about agility and speed on the ice than anything.
But the way Belle is looking at my body, appreciating it, is making me damn glad I haven’t broken my diet or skipped abdominal day.
“Damn,” she whispers. Her throat bobs when her gaze lowers to the solid seven inches of hard cock that I palm. She follows my hand as I stroke myself from base to tip, squeezing it before repeating the motion.
I want nothing more than to feel her hand replace mine, or if I’m lucky, feel her mouth wrapped around me. But patience. There’s a lot more I want to do before we get to that point.
“Get in,” I tell her, opening the shower door.
It takes her a minute to peel her gaze away from me before nodding without argument. I follow her into the shower, grabbing the shampoo that hopefully isn’t too masculine for her and begin lathering her wet hair.
“Are you…washing me?” she asks in surprise.
I smile behind her. “I got you dirty,” is my only answer as I work my fingers into her thick strands. Her back relaxes against my front as I massage her scalp, and I can feel her visibly relaxing against me.
It takes no time at all to get her hair washed and rinsed and conditioned before I’m reaching for the body wash next. She stops me, pouring it into her palm instead and turning to face me. Her eyes flicker upward, looking at me through her lashes with a small, shy smile.
Then she begins using those palms against me, washing my shoulders, my arms, my chest, then lower.
And lower. And lower. I groan when her hand wraps around my cock and begins stroking it with her soapy hand in the same motion mine did only minutes ago.
Hers feels a thousand times better. Softer.
Her rhythm is slow and torturous, and I nearly choke on the water I inhale when her other hand begins cupping my balls.
“Fuck,” I draw out, jerking in her hand. “That feels too good, Bells. I don’t even want to know how you know how to do that.”
Seriously. The thought of somebody teaching her where to touch a man makes me want to punch somebody in the face. Especially when her thumb rubs just under the tip of my cock where the nerves are the most sensitive.
I have to grab her wrist. “No more,” I tell her, stopping her protest with my mouth.