Chapter 5 #2
I open the door. Jake stands there, hands in his pockets, hair tousled by the wind, eyes dark and steady.
“I couldn’t walk away,” he says simply.
I step back, holding the door wide. “Come in.” I know what will happen when he’s in the cottage, and I just don’t care.
He crosses the threshold, and the door closes behind him with a quiet click that sounds final in the sudden hush.
We stand there for a heartbeat, the space between us humming, then he moves.
His hands frame my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones with exquisite gentleness. “Tell me to leave if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
The kiss starts slow, lips brushing, testing, savoring.
Then I sigh against his mouth, and everything ignites.
He angles my head, deepening the connection, his tongue sliding against mine in a slow, deliberate glide that makes my knees weaken.
I clutch his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more.
He backs me toward the bedroom, never breaking the kiss, hands roaming my back, my hips, learning every curve through thin cotton.
We reach the doorway, and he lifts me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carries me the last few steps to the bed. He lowers me gently onto the mattress, following me down, settling between my thighs.
His weight feels perfect. It’s solid, grounding, exactly what I need. He kisses me again, slower now, savoring, then trails his mouth along my jaw, down my throat. When he reaches the neckline of my sundress, he pauses, eyes lifting to mine.
“Can I take this off?”
I nod, breathless. “Please.”
He sits back on his heels, fingers finding the tiny buttons at the front. He works them open one by one, slowly, like he’s unwrapping the best present. Cool air kisses my skin as the fabric parts. He pushes the dress off my shoulders, down my arms, until it pools around my waist.
His gaze darkens as he takes me in, my best white lace bra, the soft rise of my breasts, the faint freckles scattered across my collarbone.
“God, Grace.” His voice trembles. “You’re so beautiful it hurts.”
He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the upper swell of my breasts, then hooks his fingers under the lace and tugs the cups down.
My nipples tighten instantly in the cool air.
He groans softly, taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling in slow circles while his hand cups the other, thumb brushing back and forth.
Pleasure arrows straight to my core. I arch, fingers threading into his hair, holding him there. He lavishes attention on me, sucking gently, then harder, switching sides, never rushing. Every pull of his mouth sends fresh heat pooling between my thighs.
“Jake,” I gasp.
He lifts his head, eyes glittering. “Tell me what you need, baby.”
“Touch me.” The words come out desperate. “Please.”
He kisses his way down my stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into my navel, making me squirm. Then he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and draws them down my legs, tossing them aside.
He settles between my thighs, shoulders spreading me wider. For a long moment, he simply looks, his gaze worshipful.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So wet for me already and so perfect.”
His fingers trace my folds, gentle at first, then parting me, finding the slick heat. One finger circles my clit slowly, drawing a whimper from my throat. He watches my face the entire time, learning every twitch, every gasp.
“Like this?” he asks, pressing a little harder.
“Yes.” My hips lift. “God, yes.”
He adds a second finger, sliding inside me with exquisite slowness. I moan, my head falling back against the pillow. He curls them, finding that spot that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
“Right there,” I breathe.
He keeps the rhythm steady, thumb working my clit in tight circles while his fingers stroke inside me. The pleasure builds fast, coiling tighter and tighter.
“You’re so tight,” he says, voice rough with awe. “So hot. I can feel you fluttering around my fingers. You’re going to come so beautifully for me, aren’t you?”
The words push me closer to the edge. No one has ever talked to me like this. His words are sexy, admiring, and completely focused on my pleasure. It makes me feel powerful, desired, seen.
“Come on, beautiful,” he coaxes. “Let go. I’ve got you.”
The orgasm crashes through me, sudden and shattering. I cry out his name, back arching, thighs trembling around his hand. He works me through it, slow and steady, drawing out every aftershock until I’m boneless, gasping.
He kisses his way back up my body, settling beside me. His erection presses hard against my hip through his jeans. I reach for him, but he catches my wrist gently.
“Not yet,” he says. “Tonight’s about you.”
I shake my head. “I want you inside me.”
His eyes darken. “You sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure.”
He stands long enough to strip off his clothes. His body is beautiful. Tanned skin, lean muscle earned from years on the water, and the faint white scar along his ribs from a surfing accident he told me about when we surfed together. His cock juts thick and hard, flushed dark at the tip.
He grabs a condom from his wallet, rolls it on with practiced ease, then returns to me. He kisses me deeply, settling between my thighs again.
“Look at me,” he says.
I do. Our eyes lock as he notches himself at my entrance. He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching me, filling me until we’re flush together.
We both groan.
“So good,” he breathes against my mouth. “You feel so perfect wrapped around me.”
He starts to move with slow, deep rolls of his hips that hit every sensitive spot inside me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. His pace builds gradually, steady and relentless, each thrust dragging pleasure higher.
“You’re incredible,” he murmurs between kisses. “So sexy. So strong. Taking me like this. Letting me see you come apart.”
The praise sinks into me, warming places I didn’t know were cold. I feel powerful beneath him. Desired, cherished, alive in a way I haven’t been in years.
I meet his thrusts, rolling my hips, chasing the building pressure. His hand slips between us, his thumb finding my clit again.
“Come with me,” he says. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”
His words tip me over the edge. The second orgasm hits harder than the first, ripping through me in bright, pulsing waves. I clench around him, crying out. He follows seconds later, burying himself deep, hips jerking as he groans my name against my throat.
We stay locked together, breathing hard, sweat-slick skin cooling in the night air. He kisses my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth.
He eases out, disposes of the condom, then returns to pull me against his chest. His heartbeat thunders under my ear, steady and strong.
“That was…” I trail off, searching for words.
“Everything,” he finishes quietly.
I trace lazy patterns on his chest. The afterglow feels warm and golden, but reality creeps in at the edges. This was supposed to be casual. A summer thing. Nothing more.
I swallow. “Jake. This doesn’t change anything. I’m still leaving in August.” I’m not sure if I’m telling him or myself.
His arms tighten around me for a heartbeat, then relax. “I know.”
“I mean it,” I press, needing him to understand. “I can’t promise more than right now.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m not asking for promises. I’m just glad you’re here tonight.”
His voice is calm and steady. I let myself believe that he’s okay with casual.
I nestle closer, letting the warmth of his body chase the questions away for now. But inside, something shifts. A small, quiet voice whispers that casual isn’t enough anymore. The boundaries I keep drawing are starting to feel like walls instead of safety.
I push the thoughts down, but as I drift toward sleep in his arms, the voice lingers.