Chapter Twenty-Three
Belle
It’s almost midnight when I hear the door to my bedroom slowly creak open.
Even in my groggy haze, I know it isn’t my mother.
She’s always been famous for falling asleep by nine o’clock, just like she did tonight after insisting she could stay up and watch our favorite movie.
Mom barely lasted thirty minutes into Bridget Jones’s Diary before she was snoring on the couch.
Jesse had to help her to the guest room.
I sit up, blinking the sleepiness away as the dim glow from the hallway night light disappears when the door closes behind a large figure. It’s safe to say it can only be one person unless an intruder managed to get past the security alarm.
“Jesse?” I whisper, instantly smelling the familiar body wash he uses as the bed sinks down by my feet. “Are you okay?”
“It felt weird sleeping alone.”
My eyes take time adjusting to the darkness, but I eventually see his body turned toward me through the blur of half-sleep that weighs my vision.
There’s no ignoring the little tap dance my heart does at his words, and I find myself smiling at him even if he can’t see it.
“I thought you didn’t like sleeping with people. ”
He grunts. “Thought we went over that. You don’t annoy me by snoring or taking my blankets.”
I stifle a giggle, not wanting to be loud. Mom is sleeping a healthy distance away from my room, but she hasn’t always been the heaviest sleeper. “Ah, yes. How could I forget when you put it so sweetly?”
He yanks on my legs to lay me on my back while murmuring, “Pain in my ass,” as I yelp a little louder than I mean to. Suddenly, he’s hovering over me. “I was in bed thinking about how I want to cuddle the shit out of you.”
Cuddle the shit out of me. Forget tap dancing. My heart is full on breakdancing in my chest. “I do enjoy cuddling.”
I’m not sure how, but I wind up on my side with his body lined up perfectly behind me and his arm around my waist. It’s comfortable. I nuzzle in, smiling to myself and letting that smile grow when I feel something long and very, very hard press against my butt.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, trying to move his hips away so he’s not rubbing on me.
I don’t really think about it before I’m turning in his hold until we’re chest to chest. And now his hard cock is pressing against the soft, warm flesh between my thighs. Sucking in a breath when I hear his shuddered groan, I part my legs a fraction until his length is exactly where I want it.
“Belle,” he murmurs in a pained tone. “This isn’t what I came in here for.”
That may be true, but when opportunity knocks… “I know you didn’t.”
My hand slips between us, cupping him and stroking up and down over his clothes until he twitches. He bites down on his bottom lip to suppress another noise, tilting his head back until those neck muscles bulge with a thick swallow.
“Belle—” He eventually rasps when my hand slides under the waistband of his pajama pants and wraps around his smooth, silky skin.
His cock twitches and grows in my hand as I leisurely move my palm from the base to the tip and lean forward to press a kiss against the crook of his neck.
My teeth nip at the skin there, biting gently above his pulse.
His hips thrust forward, making me take more of him into my hand.
He likes being bitten.
I grin against his throat and drag my tongue along the area I nipped before doing it again. He makes an incoherent noise as I pump him with my fingers, twisting and squeezing and tugging.
“Imagine if my mouth,” I say against the skin of his neck, “were where my hand is right now. Think about how I’d be dragging my tongue along the underside of you until you—”
Suddenly, I’m on my back and my hands are pinned above my head on the mattress. I gasp when I feel him roll his hips into me from where he hovers above my body. “You are playing a very dangerous game, baby girl,” he says.
I may not be able to see his expression very well in the dark, but I can feel it on me. The tension in the air is heated with anticipation as his fingers clench around the wrists he has in one hand to make sure I don’t touch him.
Not that I think he can tell, but I bat my lashes at him. “I don’t know what game you’re talking about.”
There’s a soft chuckle that sounds a little menacing coming from him. “Is that so? Because I think we can make it one.”
I don’t know why the idea of playing any game sounds so sexy. Maybe it’s the gravel in his voice because he’s as turned on as I am. “And what are the rules to this supposed game?”
His mouth comes down on mine, kissing me once, twice, a third time.
His lips skirt over to my cheek, then over to the shell of my ear where he nips the lobe and smile when I make a startled sound underneath him.
“There is only one rule. You have to be very, very quiet. I would hate for your mother to hear the filthy things I plan to do to her daughter.”
I blame his hot breath on my ear for the way my nipples ache at the thought of anything he wants to do to me. Because the possibilities are endless, and I know for a fact there isn’t much he isn’t up for if my first experience with him is any indication.
And when his mouth lowers to my jaw, then down the column of my throat, and lands on my beaded nipple poking through the material of my shirt, I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to make a sound.
“Good girl,” he praises as his hands roam down to my shorts and pulls them down to discard them. Once they’re somewhere on the floor, he pushes up my shirt enough to expose my bare breasts before taking them into his mouth.
I arch up into him, wanting that hard length pressing against me to be in me. I want it like I’ve wanted nothing else in my life. It’s ridiculous, and maybe even a little embarrassing, how wet I feel as I rub my legs together.
“Need you in me,” I beg in a breathy whisper, trying to get free from his grip. He’s strong, though, and doesn’t relent as I wiggle beneath him.
His mouth continues lowering, trailing open mouthed kisses against my skin. He licks every inch of skin from the valley between my breasts all the way to my abdomen and sets me ablaze.
He only pulls away enough to say, “I’m not done with you yet.”
And then his mouth is on me. He kisses my throbbing pussy and uses his free hand to grip my hip and keep me still. I want to run my fingers through his hair. I want to pull the strands. I want to do so much that my brain can barely process all the scenarios in my head.
I am on the brink of an orgasm as his tongue laps and sucks and licks and his hand begins working in tandem with his mouth. A noise escapes me that sounds guttural and loud, and only then does Jesse release my wrists so he can use his palm to cup my mouth and suppress the sound.
It shouldn’t be this hot having a man quiet me down, but it is. It really is. And I’m grateful he covers my mouth because what he’s doing to me is like a heavenly experience that makes my body feel light and buzzed and warm until I cannot take it any longer.
My hips shoot up with an intense orgasm, riding his face while noises that I didn’t think were possible are drowned out by his palm.
I want to bite him. Turn us around and ride him until he’s coming too.
He’s so hard against me it must be painful, but he continues letting me rub myself against his face until I’m good and sated before finally moving away.
I barely have time to process anything before he’s flipping me onto my stomach, sliding a pillow under my hips, and slamming into me in one fluid motion. I gasp at the delicious sudden fullness, listening to wet sounds my body makes from how hard he made me come.
He presses on the back of my head until my face is against the mattress. Leaning over me, he whispers, “Remember the rule. Be quiet or your mother will walk in and see my cock buried deep inside of you.”
My pussy clenches around him at the warning, and he has to suck in a breath to quiet his own reaction. He praises me like I’m a goddess that he will worship every single day.
“You are perfect,” he says.
“You taste fucking amazing,” he moans.
“My cock is made for your pussy,” he tells me.
And it feels true. He fits me so well. Fucks me so well. Every movement builds me higher and higher, my strings strung so tight that I don’t know how long I can hold on. He’s going to make me come again, and I don’t know if I’ll survive.
His body moves over me, in me, like he never wants to leave. Like each thrust, pump, and mumbled curse can last an eternity.
“So beautiful,” he whispers.
“So mine,” he growls.
That proclamation is all it takes before I am biting the sheets, so I don’t scream his name for the entire neighborhood to hear.
“Can I come inside you?” he asks me, as if he hasn’t already done that plenty of times before.
“Y-Yes,” I say, trying to meet his hips.
“Fuck. Yes.” He grabs ahold of my body and slams inside one last time until I can feel his hot spurts of cum fill me. It keeps coming and coming and he keeps whispering sweet nothings into my back as he kisses me like he’s never experienced something so blissful as this.
My body feels limp when he pulls out, carefully setting me flat onto the bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispers, kissing the back of my head before disappearing into the attached bathroom and bringing back a damp cloth to clean me off with.
I’m sensitive when he wipes between my thighs, jerking at the sensation. He apologizes, wipes himself off, and then curls around me, pressing our naked bodies against each other.
I think I fall asleep within seconds of his arm wrapping around me, and I don’t know if I’m dreaming or not when I hear, “I love you, Belle.”