31. Jamison #6
“That is one reason.”
“Jamison.”
The disappointment reached her face.
She looked genuinely upset, as if she had finally let herself want this and then discovered my body was going to deny her out of sheer absurd size difference. Of all the things to break my heart tonight.
My hand moved to her cheek. “You won’t miss out.”
She glanced down again, then back at me with the stern disbelief of a woman presented with terrible math. “I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You’re too big for me.”
“I’m bigger than you, yes.”
“That is not comforting.”
She had always been petite. I had always known that in public ways. The way she wore heels high enough to make our hands meet more easily. Her shoulder tucked beneath my arm when I let her close. She had to tip her head back to glare at me, which made all her attempts at outrage dangerously sweet.
I had thought about height difference in relation to doors, cars, ballrooms, how far I had to bend to kiss her.
Now she was thinking about it in bed.
I lowered myself over her.
“Listen to me. Daddy’s going to be gentle. I’ll get you ready. I’ll take my time. I won’t hurt you to prove a point.”
Her breathing changed.
“That means we go slow,” I continued, thumb moving under her jaw. “It means I use my mouth. My fingers if you want them. It means you tell me green, yellow, or red. It means I stop whenever you say stop, even if I’m dying.”
Her lips parted. “You won’t be dying.”
“Feels unlikely from here.”
That earned me a small, nervous laugh, and I kissed the corner of her mouth as a reward.
“You’re very pleased with yourself,” she whispered.
“I’m being humble.”
“No, you are not.”
“Fine. I am pleased with several things. Your reaction is one of them.”
Her blush deepened, but the fear had softened around the edges. Good. I could work with nerves. I kissed her again, slower, and eased her back onto the pillows.
“Lay back for me.”
She obeyed, watching me closely.
“Drop your knees.”
Her thighs relaxed open by inches, still hesitant. I put one hand on her knee and kissed the inside, staying there until I felt the tension leave. Then the other. Soft enough to make my mouth water.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmured. “So brave for me.”
Her hands curled in the sheets.
I kissed up the inside of her thigh, giving her time to feel where I was going. Her breath hitched when my mouth moved higher, and I paused.
“Color.”
“Green,” she whispered.
“Good girl.”
I lowered my mouth again.
The first lick made her whole body jolt.
Her back lifted from the sheets, a shocked sound leaving her throat as if no one had warned her a body could answer that fast. My hand slid over her stomach, grounding her.
“Easy,” I said against her. “I’ve got you.”
She made another sound when I licked her again, softer this time, longer. Her legs trembled around my shoulders, and the reaction went straight through me, pleasure and hunger and possessive satisfaction tightening every muscle in my body.
Sienna melted under my mouth.
That was the only word for it.
All those years of smiling through pain, and one slow stroke of my tongue made her dissolve into the sheets with her eyes half-closed.
I gave her a gentle suck.
Nothing hard. A soft pull, pressure and warmth. She cried out. Her hand flew to my hair, then stopped as if she feared she had done something wrong.
“Use your hands,” I told her. “Pull if you need to. I want to feel you.”
Her fingers sank into my hair.
Perfect.
I did it again.
Her hips moved without permission, a small helpless lift toward my mouth. I groaned against her because that was going to live in me now. Sienna Bellemere trying to be polite while her body begged for my tongue.
“You like that, baby?”
She turned her face into the pillow, embarrassed.
I lifted my head. “No hiding.”
“I can’t answer that.”
“You can.”
Her voice shook. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Her eyes opened, hazy.
“Yes, I like it.”
“Good.” I kissed her thigh, then moved back to her clit. “Because I’m going to do it again.”
She barely had time to breathe before my mouth returned.
I licked her until her thighs shook.
I learned the rhythm that made her hands tighten in my hair.
Each sound fed something in me that had been starving for years without knowing what hunger was.
Then I lowered my tongue and gathered more of her wetness, tasting how much she wanted this, how much her body had already answered mine despite her fears.
I pressed my mouth there with a low groan.
“Fuck, baby. You’re so wet for me.”
Her breath broke.
I slid my hands beneath her thighs, opening her a little more, still watching. Her eyes were on me now, wide and glassy with need.
“Just like this,” I said, voice rough against her. “This is how we get you ready. Slow. Warm. No rushing.”
She nodded quickly, almost dazed. I licked lower and felt her entire body tighten in surprise. Her hand pulled my hair harder.
Good.
I gave her more.
Slow, careful pressure. My tongue moving in a way that made her thighs tremble around my shoulders, tasting her. When I pushed my tongue inside her, shallow, she gasped like the air had been stolen clean out of her.
My cock throbbed hard enough to make thinking an act of violence.
“You like that?” I asked, barely lifting from her. “Daddy’s tongue fucking you, baby?”
Her answer came as a helpless sound.
“That’s an answer.” I kissed her there again. “A beautiful one.”
“Jamison,” she breathed.
I looked up her body. Her breasts rose with each uneven breath, nipples tight in the cool air. Her hands were in my hair, and her eyes had that stunned, devotional softness as if I had become something holy to her body.
Dangerous, dangerous girl.
She looked at me that way, and I understood why men built temples.
I lowered my mouth again, and her head tipped back into the pillow.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Let me have you like this first. Let me make you soft for me.”
She moved under me, needier now, less careful with her body. Her hips lifted into my mouth, she came in broken little pulls that were going to haunt me from now until death.
“You’re doing so well,” I said, kissing the inside of her thigh, then her clit again. “So good for me. Taking Daddy’s mouth so sweetly.”
She whimpered.
I pressed my palm flat to her stomach, feeling the muscles flutter under my hand.
“Breathe. Don’t fight it.”
“I’m not,” she said, and then immediately made a sound proving she was.
I smiled against her. “Liar.”
She laughed weakly, then gasped when I gave her another slow suck and pull.
The laugh shattered into need.
Beautiful.
My beautiful fucking girl.
Every reaction killed me a little more. Her innocence, the way she had been so deadly serious that I was too big for her and now shook under my mouth. I licked her again, deeper this time, and felt her body start to climb toward something she didn’t yet recognize.
I recognized it.
Good.
I would guide her all the way there.
Her body found the edge before she understood she had reached it.
I felt it first in the way her thighs tightened around my shoulders, then in the sudden, desperate pull of her fingers through my hair. Her hips lifted toward my mouth with a broken little sound that made every savage, possessive part of me go still and listen.
“That’s it,” I murmured against her. “Don’t run from it. Let me have it.”
She shook beneath my hand, breath catching hard in her chest. “Jamison—”
“Good girl. Give it to me.”
I took her through it slowly.
Though God knew greed had me by the throat.
I kept my hand flat over her stomach, feeling the tremors move through her as I licked her through every shaking second.
Her sounds turned soft and helpless, and by the time she collapsed back into the pillows, flushed and breathing as if she had crossed some beautiful, dangerous country, I felt satisfied in a way violence had never given me.
Deeply.
Fucking spiritually.
Also harder than I had ever been in my life, which made satisfaction a complicated state to maintain.
My cock ached with it. The pressure had become almost offensive, trapped against fabric, every pulse of blood going straight into demand. I pressed one last kiss to the inside of her thigh, then lifted my head.
Sienna looked destroyed.
Soft hair tangled across the pillows.
Mine.
The thought sat in me with ugly devotion.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and tried to remember civilization.
A failure, mostly.
When I moved back, her eyes focused on me. Her brows drew together at once, dazed but alarmed. “Where are you going?”
The question came out breathless and offended.
“I’m giving you a minute.”
“I don’t want a minute.”
I paused.
Her face colored, but she held my stare. Brave little thing, even with her body still shaking from my mouth. “You said I could have what I wanted.”
“I did.”
“I want you.”
My jaw tightened.
Every instinct in me lunged toward that sentence. I had to physically hold my body still, one hand braced beside her hip, the other gripping the sheet hard enough to strain the fabric.
“Baby, it’s late.” My voice sounded rough enough to warn a smarter woman. “I’m taking my time with you. You came hard, you’re overwhelmed, and you really should—”
“Fuck me, please.”
The room went quiet.
Sienna seemed to shock herself with the words. Her eyes widened, and the blush rushed down her throat and across her chest, but she didn’t take them back. She lay beneath me, deadly serious, asking for me with every soft part of her courage.
I forgot every language I knew for three seconds.
Then I bent over her, caught her jaw, and kissed her hard enough that she clutched at my shoulders.
“Careful,” I said against her mouth. “Begging works on me.”
Sienna was learning fast, and I was beginning to suspect my fiancée had been sweet only because no one had ever given her safe room to be wicked.
“You’ll get me,” I told her. “But you’re going to get ready first.”
“I thought I was ready.”
“You’re wet. That isn’t the same as ready for me.”