31. Jamison #8
I slid my other hand down her body, over her breast, her ribs, the trembling line of her stomach. She kept her mouth on me, eyes hazy but trusting, while my hand reached between her thighs.
She was still wet from my mouth and so responsive that the first touch of my fingers made her moan around me.
“Easy,” I said, though I was the one in danger. “Keep your mouth soft.”
She tried, poor brave girl, and the effort made me want to praise her for the next decade.
I circled her gently at first, letting her body remember pleasure before pressure. Her hips moved toward my hand. She sucked again, clumsy and perfect, and I dragged air through my lungs as if it had become scarce.
“That’s my girl. You feel what I’m doing?”
She made a small sound around me.
“I’m going to stretch you slow. One finger first.”
Her eyes opened wider, but she didn’t pull away. I gave her time, kept my touch steady, then eased one finger into her with maddening care.
She gasped around my cock.
I froze.
“Color.”
She pulled back only enough to whisper, “Green.”
Her mouth returned before I could praise her properly.
God help me.
I slid my finger deeper, slow as promised, feeling the tight heat of her body flutter around me. She was so small, and determined to take what she had asked for. I bent over her, watching my finger disappear into her pussy while her lips worked softly over the head of my cock.
The room blurred at the edges.
“Good,” I murmured. “That’s how we do it. Slow. Let your body learn.”
Her hand gripped my thigh now. Her mouth stayed around me in careful little pulls, and each one sent heat punching through my stomach while my finger moved inside her with a gentle rhythm.
She moaned again.
The sound wrapped around me.
I hissed and brushed her hair back from her face because I needed to see her. “You’re doing so well. Mouth so sweet, body opening for me. This is how I’ll get you ready.”
Her eyes shone with dazed pride.
I curled my finger slightly, searching.
Her whole body jolted.
There.
I smiled the pressure tearing through me. “Found something?”
She pulled off me with a broken breath. “Jamison—”
“Back on me, baby. I’ve got you.”
She looked almost drunk with it, but she obeyed, lips parting for me again, taking only the head as I guided her. The discipline it took to hold still while she sucked me and clenched around my finger deserved a monument.
I would accept her mouth as tribute.
I moved my finger again, slow and shallow, then deeper when her body welcomed it. Her thighs opened more, trust spreading through her hips. She sucked a little harder, gaining courage from my praise.
“Careful,” I rasped. “You do that and Daddy’s going to need religion.”
Her eyes warmed with shy amusement even as she had me in her mouth.
Little brat.
I added no more yet. One finger was enough for now. Her body needed patience, and I had promised. But I let the rhythm build gently—my hand stretching her, my thumb brushing where my mouth had made her come, her lips soft around the aching head of me.
She was giving me everything in pieces.
I leaned down and kissed her hair while she sucked me, the gesture so tender and filthy together that it should have been impossible.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “Just like this. We’ll make room for me, baby. You’re going to take me because I’ll make sure your body wants every inch before I ask for it.”
She whimpered around me.
I closed my eyes, breathing through the pulse of pleasure.
Then I opened them again.
I would not miss one second of her.
She took me deeper by accident at first.
A brave little pull, her lips soft around the head of me, tongue moving with that shy curiosity that had already put me closer to losing control than any experienced woman ever had. Then her hand tightened on my thigh and she tried again, taking more.
My entire body locked.
“Sienna.”
She paused at the sound of my voice but didn’t pull away. Her eyes lifted to mine, as if she had decided she could be nervous and greedy at the same time.
Dangerous girl.
I slid my fingers through her hair, gathering it back from her face so I could see every expression. “Slow. You don’t need to prove anything to me.”
She eased back, mouth wet, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven. “I wanted to.”
Christ.
“I know, baby.” I brushed my thumb along her lower lip, gathering the shine there. “And I’m very proud of you for wanting. But if you keep trying to take more, I’m going to forget the plan.”
Her eyes dropped between us, then back up. I eased my finger from her slowly. Her body tightened around me for a second, reluctant, and she made a soft protest into my mouth.
“Easy,” I murmured. “I’m getting something.”
She watched me move to the bedside drawer, eyes following every line of my body with growing confidence. It should have soothed my ego. It did. Far too much. My fiancée, naked in my bed, staring at me.
I found the lube and returned to the bed.
Her gaze fixed on the bottle.
“That looks serious,” she said.
“It is serious. I’m serious about making this good for you.”
Her throat moved. “And if it still hurts?”
I sat beside her and set the bottle on the sheet.
“I thought it was supposed to hurt the first time,” she said.
“It might.” I stroked her thigh, keeping my touch slow, giving her the truth without letting fear own the room. “I can’t promise no pain. You’re tight, you’re new to this, and I’m not small.”
Her cheeks went bright again, and the corner of my mouth almost betrayed me.
“Do not look that pleased with yourself,” she said.
“I’m showing restraint.”
“You’re doing something with your face.”
“My face is innocent.”
“It is absolutely not.”
I laughed softly and leaned down to kiss the inside of her knee. “You’re arguing with me while naked and spread in my bed. Very brave.”
Her breath caught when my mouth moved higher. “I’m trying to distract myself.”
“I see that.” I poured lube over my fingers, warmed it in my palm, and watched her eyes follow the movement. “Keep talking if it helps.”
She smiled, nervous then lost the smile when my hand returned between her thighs.
I touched her slowly at first, over her pussy. She was wet for me already, so wet that my jaw flexed from the feel of her, but the lube made every stroke slicker. Her body responded immediately, hips rolling into my palm before she seemed to realize she had moved.
I eased one finger back into her, slower than before, and she took it better this time. Still fluttering around me. But softer now.
“Good girl,” I murmured. “You’re taking that so well.”
Her hands twisted in the sheet. “It feels different with the… with that.”
“The lube?”
She nodded, embarrassed by the word for no reason I understood and every reason her upbringing probably did.
“Say things plainly with me,” I said. “You can say lube. You can say cock. You can say you’re wet. You can tell me you want my fingers or my mouth or more. No polite suffering in this bed.”
She covered her face with one arm.
I caught her wrist and moved it gently aside. “No hiding.”
Her laugh trembled. “You keep saying terrible things and then telling me not to react.”
“I want the reaction.”
I added my thumb to her clit and moved slowly, working her open around one finger until her breathing changed from nervous to needy.
“There you go,” I said. “That’s my girl, such a good girl riding daddy’s finger.”
Her mouth parted. “Jamison.”
“I know baby, I know. My baby needs more of daddy.”
I gave her a second finger only when she was soft enough for it. Even then, I went carefully, pressing in by degrees.
“Talk to me,” I said.
“It’s full, and um only your fingers?”
“Yes, baby.”
She gave me a look. “That is not helping your argument that you’ll fit.”
I laughed before I could stop myself, then kissed her knee in apology. “Fair. But this is how we make it possible.”
“You still look too pleased.”
“I’m proud of how tight you are.”
Her eyes widened. “Jamison.”
“I’m also proud of how brave you are. Is that better?”
“A little.”
I moved my fingers a fraction, just enough to test. Her breath caught, but her thighs loosened around my hand.
I started a slow rhythm, shallow at first, then deeper as she relaxed. My thumb circled her carefully, enough to give the stretch somewhere sweet to go. That was the trick. Never let her body learn discomfort without pleasure following close behind.
Her fingers dug into my arm. “That feels…”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Good?”
Her cheeks went pink. “Yes.”
“Then say good.”
“It feels good.”
I rewarded her by curling my fingers just enough to find that place again.
Her back arched.
“Good?” I asked.
She nodded fast.
Her eyes squeezed shut, and a moan broke out of her, fuller than before.
“That’s it,” I said, voice rough. “That’s where I want you. Soft and wet and feeling so good that the stretch stops scaring you.”
I worked her that way until her body opened more easily around my fingers. When Ieased my fingers free and she whimpered, immediately reaching for me.
That time she smiled properly, and I felt ten feet tall for making her do it.
I reached for another pillow and slid it beneath her hips.
Then I adjusted her gently, guiding her until she lay back in the best angle for both of us: hips lifted, back supported, knees bent and open around me, feet planted lightly on the mattress so she didn’t feel pinned. I wanted her able to move.
I settled between her thighs and braced one hand beside her head.
Her eyes dropped between us again, and her nerves came back in a visible wave.
“Baby.”
She looked up.
“Stay with my face.”
“That’s difficult when your…” She swallowed. “When you’re right there.”
“My cock?”
Her blush went violent. “Yes.”
“Say it.”
She stared at me.
I brushed her hair away from her cheek. “No shame here.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Your cock.”
“Good girl.”
Her breathing shook.