Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Hailey
My mouth has gone completely dry at the sight of Jason shirtless, his hand rubbing over his skin, following his treasure trail below his belly button, coming to rest on the waist of his low-slung jeans, unashamed of the obvious bulge behind his zipper.
No, he’s not ashamed at all. In fact, it’s the opposite. He’s standing there on full display for me to peruse at my leisure, and if I weren’t already certain of that fact, his question puts any doubts to rest. “Like what you see?”
With a gulp, I dip my chin in a nod, not trusting my voice. His answering grin is cocky as shit, but I can’t even fault him for it. He knows he’s hot. He knows I think he’s hot. He can feel smug about it all he wants.
I’d’ve been pissed if he acted like that under different circumstances—if I were the one saying we should have sex since we’re married, after all. If I were the one to admit it first, and this had been his response, I’d be upset.
But it’s safe to let him feel smug that I’m attracted to him since I already know that he’s attracted to me.
And that fact boosts my confidence enough that I stand from the bed as well, reaching out and tracing my fingers from his clavicle down his sternum. His eyes fall closed at my touch, all that cocky smugness gone in a flash of pure want.
I want him. And he wants me. It’s simple and easy, and that’s all I need to focus on right now.
Nothing between us has been easy. Or at least, I haven’t let it be. It’s time that I do.
His hand covers mine, stopping my progress as I explore his torso, and he reaches for me, pulling me close with his hand behind my back, pouring all of that want into his kiss.
His fingers stray to the hem of the sweatshirt I’m still wearing, and I suddenly feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of it.
Taking a half step back and breaking away from the kiss, I reach for the neck of the sweatshirt, starting it up and over my head as he lifts from the bottom, both of us working to free me from its stifling grasp.
He makes a sound of annoyance when he sees I’m still in a tank top—not to mention my bra underneath. “Good god, woman. How many layers of clothes are you wearing?”
Laughing, I reach for him again, but he stops me with his hands on my tank top, which he pulls up and off me before finally wrapping his arms around me again and kissing me. “Not as many now,” I murmur against his lips.
The band of my bra goes loose, and he tugs the straps off my arms before pressing his torso against mine, rubbing himself against me and sighing. “That’s better. God, I love the way your skin feels against mine.”
When I rake my fingers through his hair, dragging my fingernails lightly over his scalp, he lets out a soft moan, his body drooping against me. “That feels amazing,” he whispers.
I do it again, and he lets out the same noise, but he doesn’t go limp again, instead guiding me toward the bed, his hands on the waist of my jeans.
My jeans go loose as he makes quick work of the button and zipper, shoving them down my hips, leaving me in my blue lacy panties.
He’s looking at me with hunger in his eyes as he undoes his own pants, shoving them down until he’s in a pair of designer black briefs. “Did you wear those for me?” he asks, his voice husky.
I shake my head. “I didn’t know you’d be seeing them.”
With a low, rumbly sound, he sits on the bed, reaching for me to position me between his knees. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, looking up at me, meeting my eyes briefly before looking directly at my tits.
I’d normally be self-conscious—especially my first time with someone—but he looks at me almost reverently, and I can’t bring myself to want to hide.
He places tiny kisses across the top of one breast, then he lingers on my sternum for a moment before doing the same to the other side.
Pulling back a fraction, he cups my breasts in his large hands, sliding his thumbs over my nipples and making me inhale sharply at the shock of pleasure that zings through me.
Meeting my eyes, he leans in and sucks one nipple between his lips, flicking it with his tongue until my knees are ready to buckle.
Wrapping his arms around me, he lies back, taking me with him, shifting me down his body so that the hard ridge of his cock drags between my legs.
Then he rolls us over, reversing our positions so he’s on top, my legs splayed wide as he rubs against me, teasing us both with the friction that feels good but nothing like what either of us needs.
Then his mouth is back on my nipples, and I’m torn between wanting to touch him—running a hand through his hair, over his shoulders, down his back—and the need to clutch at the blanket beneath me to hold myself steady against the onslaught of pleasure he’s releasing in my body.
Shifting to the side, he thumbs my other nipple for a moment, then drags his hand down my torso, rubbing and caressing my ribs, my belly, my hips, then down the outside of one thigh and back up the inside, stopping just short of where I’m growing wetter by the second.
He keeps this up, rubbing everywhere except where I want him most, all while using his mouth on my nipples, until I’m writhing and whimpering with need.
Then, at last, on his way back up my thigh, he makes it all the way to the lace covering my center, resting his hand there, letting me feel the heat of it as he gently massages the outside before finally—fucking finally—sliding his hand inside my underwear and touching me.
I almost scream from the shock of it, even though he’s being excruciatingly gentle, dipping a finger into my wetness before dragging it up and drawing slow, tiny circles around my clit.
Instead of screaming, I cover my mouth with my hand and whimper, my eyes squeezed shut.
My nipples are hard points, cool and wet from his attention to them. “Hailey,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. “Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.”
Slowly, I open my eyes and meet his, naked hunger still stamped on his face. He slides one leg over mine, pressing himself against my thigh.
“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, his voice low and full of heat and promise. “Scream if you want to. I don’t mind a bit.”
Dragging my hand from my mouth, I whimper again because he speeds up the tiny circles, and my hips move, seeking more.
All the teasing he’s done has me on edge, so close, but I don’t even know what I need. I’ve never … it’s never … no one’s ever made me feel like this before.
His mouth covers mine, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as he rubs my clit even faster. I moan and whimper into his mouth, my whole body moving as it seeks the release it’s so close to finding.
When he changes something, I tear my mouth away from his and manage to pant, “No, don’t, so close, before …
” And even though it’s a bunch of disjointed words without clear direction, he picks up on what I mean and goes back to what he was doing before.
“Yes, that, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.
” And then I detonate, sparks flashing, muscles convulsing and pulsing and he keeps going, keeps my orgasm going, his mouth covering mine again, and I’m clinging to him like he’s my only anchor in the storm he’s unleashed inside me.
He stays with me as I ride out the last of the orgasm, kissing me as I lie there boneless but not as satisfied as I would’ve expected after that.
I peel my eyelids open when he moves away from me to discover he’s made his underwear disappear, and I get my first good look at his proud dick, standing upright, the tip glistening.
A quick glance at his face reveals that he’s watching me watch him as he grips himself, giving himself a couple of slow strokes before tearing open the condom and rolling it on.
Then he’s moving to my feet, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. I lift my hips to help him remove them, then make space for him to settle between my legs.
He’s still stroking himself slowly as he kneels between my splayed thighs, his other hand caressing my hip, my side, my belly. “You ready for me?” he murmurs, his voice remarkably tender.
“Yes,” I say just as softly.
Moving over me, he props himself up on his forearms, lowering his hips until he’s dragging the ridge of his cock over my center, back and forth and back and forth, once again teasing us both, each stroke moving back a little more, the broad head of his dick rubbing against my clit on the way back up until he moves back enough that when he presses forward again, he presses inside me.
He doesn’t alter his pace, keeping his hips moving slow and steady, each forward thrust moving him deeper until his hips are, at last, flush with mine.
He pauses then, capturing my lips once more, giving me time to adjust.
It’s been … quite a while since I’ve had sex. I’d forgotten how good it feels. Or I never knew it could feel this good.
He takes his time, going slow, stroking, kissing, caressing me all over just like he was doing as foreplay, all of it running together into one continuous sensual feast. It’s … a revelation.
When he eventually starts moving faster, he wraps his arms beneath me, holding me against him, and I cling to him, riding the wave of bliss he’s taking us on until we reach the crest together.
My second orgasm isn’t as powerful as my first, but it’s somehow more satisfying as Jason comes with me, his hips snapping hard against mine then grinding into me as he finishes.
He stays with me, his muscles going lax but never releasing me, his body over mine like a living weighted blanket, anchoring me in a way I didn’t know I craved.
When he finally pulls back, he kisses me softly one last time before withdrawing, disappearing into the bathroom again, but this time for only a few seconds as he disposes of the condom and quickly washes his hands.
Rejoining me in the bedroom, he slides into bed with me, pulling me against him so my head is pillowed on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me.
I drape my leg across his thigh, and he reaches down and hitches it higher so it’s across his waist. Satisfied, he makes a grumbly sound of contentment, his fingers trailing lightly up and down my thigh.
“So,” he says after a moment, “what’s the verdict?”
“The verdict?”
“Was this a one-night only engagement? Or do I get an encore?”
Laughing, I bury my face in his shoulder. “I’m sure we can arrange future performances. Especially if they’re all like that.”
He grins, tipping my chin up to kiss me on the mouth. “I guarantee they’ll be as good or better.”
“Sounds perfect.”