31. Jamison #10
“You like hearing that,” I said. “My shy baby likes being told how good she feels.”
She shook her head, but her body betrayed her at once, squeezing around me until pleasure punched up my spine.
“Liar,” I murmured.
“I’m not—”
I moved, and her denial broke into a moan.
“That’s what I thought.”
Her face turned toward my shoulder, hiding.
I kissed the side of her head. “No hiding from me. Not tonight. I want every sound.”
“I can’t,” she breathed.
“You can. You are.”
I lowered my mouth to her neck and sucked gently over the pulse there. I wanted my mouth everywhere on her. Wanted proof.
I licked slow down her neck. Across her collarbone. As I moved inside her, each thrust still careful, each withdrawal dragging through her tight grip until I felt her body begin to chase me.
Good.
I shifted, bracing one hand beside her head and using the other to cup her breast. Her breath caught before my mouth even reached her. When I closed my lips around her nipple and sucked, her whole body arched, driving me deeper.
“Daddy.”
The word came out broken.
My control frayed.
“That’s it.” I soothed her with my tongue, then sucked again, harder by a fraction. “Move with me.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Yes, you do.” I thrust slowly and pressed my hand to her hip. “When I come in, lift for me. Small. Just like that.”
She tried.
God help me, she tried.
Her hips tilted up to meet mine, awkward and the change in angle made us both freeze. She cried out. I cursed into her breast, because the feel of her taking me that way, choosing me instead of simply enduring… fuck.
“There,” I said, voice gone dark. “Again.”
She did it again.
Better.
My hips rolled into hers, and she moved with me, breath catching at the first real rhythm we made together.
Pain still flickered across her face now and then, but pleasure had begun taking more ground.
Her mouth stayed open. Her eyes went unfocused.
Her fingers clutched my hair, my shoulders, the sheets, searching for something to hold as I built her from hurt to heat.
“Good girl,” I said into her skin. “That’s my wife. Learning how to take me.”
Her body clenched around the word wife.
I felt it everywhere.
“Fuck. You liked that.”
She made a small desperate sound.
I kissed her hard, thrusting a little deeper, swallowing the moan she gave me. “You’re going to hear it every day. My wife in my bed. My wife in my house. My wife on my cock. ”
Her legs tightened around me.
“Jamison.”
“No, baby. You wanted me. Now listen to what that means.” I kissed down to her breast again, sucking her nipple while I moved, letting my tongue circle until she writhed beneath me. “We’re going to fuck a lot.”
She gasped. “Jamison.”
“A lot,” I repeated, because the blush on her face deserved encouragement. “All the time. In our bed. Against the shower wall. Before events when you look too pretty and I decide Harlan can wait.”
Her mouth parted around a shaky breath.
“After events when you’ve spent the night being polite to people I hate.
” I thrust slow and deep, and she met me again, better this time, sweetly clumsy and so fucking perfect I could barely stand it.
“In offices. On desks. In the backseat of cars with the privacy glass up and my hand over your mouth because you refuse to stay quiet.”
Her eyes went wide.
Her body tightened again.
I smiled against her throat. “Oh, you liked that.”
“I did not.”
I moved, and she whimpered.
“You did.”
“I—” She lost the sentence when my thumb found her clit again, circling in time with the slow thrusts. Her hips lifted hard toward me, and the shock of pleasure widened her eyes. “Oh.”
“Yes. That.”
Her body started to take me differently after that.
Still so small around me that each stroke demanded restraint.
But the fear loosened. Her hips found mine with more confidence, guided by my hand, my voice, the pressure of my thumb.
She began to understand the rhythm. Lift when I pressed.
Breathe when I paused. Cling when it got intense.
Say my name when the feeling grew too large for silence.
I praised every piece of it.
“That’s it, baby. Move with me.”
Another slow thrust.
“Good girl. So fucking good.”
Her body rolled beneath mine.
“Look at you taking me. Thought I was too big, didn’t you?”
She moaned, embarrassed and pleased at once. “You are.”
“And you’re taking me anyway.”
Her nails dragged down my back.
I hissed out a breath, then took her nipple back into my mouth. She arched under me, breast filling my palm, thighs open wider than before. Every thrust sounded wet and intimate now, every breath she gave me proof that the ache had shifted into need.
Her hand slid from my shoulder to my jaw, trembling. Soft against my face while I was buried inside her. I turned my head and kissed her palm. Her eyes filled again, but this time the tears looked different.
“Keep touching me,” I said.
Her thumb brushed my cheek.
I closed my eyes for half a second, and she whispered, “You like that?”
I opened them. “I love it.”
The rhythm changed on its own. Still slow enough to protect her, but no longer. We were moving together now. Her hips lifting into mine, my hand guiding, her breath breaking every time I filled her. My mouth moved between her breasts, her throat, her lips.
“That’s it,” I murmured against her mouth. “Feel what happens when you let me in?”
She nodded quickly.
I drove into her a little harder, but enough to make her cry out and cling tight.
Her legs locked around my waist.
I groaned, dropping my forehead to hers. “That’s my girl. Hold me there.”
We moved together like that, my hips pressing deep while her body learned how to rise for me.
I could feel her building.
In the tremor of her thighs. The flutter around my cock. I held still for one second because if she came like that, with me buried deep and her hands on my face, I was going to follow her straight over the edge and ruin every bit of control I still owned.
“Jamison,” she breathed.
“I’ve got you, baby. Move with me.”
And she did.
My sweet, brave girl lifted her hips into mine, chasing the pressure of my hand and the fullness of my body, and we found the rhythm again together.
I was never going to recover from her. Sienna clung to me, crying my name and Daddy in the same broken breath.
“Good girl. My perfect girl. That’s it. Take me. Move with me. You’re so fucking beautiful. So mine. So brave. I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.”
“Daddy,” she whispered, and then her face turned into my neck as if she could hide there.
As if my body was the safest place left in the world.
The sound went through me hard. Her mouth brushed my throat, and her arms tightened around my shoulders.
I could feel it building inside her before she understood what was happening.
The way her thighs locked, then loosened, then held me tighter as if she didn’t know whether to run from it or pull me deeper.
I knew.
I felt every fucking second of it.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured, kissing the side of her head. “You’re close.”
She shook her head against my neck, embarrassed even then.
“Yes, you are.” I slid one hand down her thigh and opened her hips wider, carefully, giving her body more room around mine. Her breath broke against my skin as I pulled back by degrees, slow enough that she felt every inch of me leaving, then stopped before she lost too much.
Her fingers curled in my hair.
She lifted her face from my neck. Sweet baby in my bed. Torn open by trust and trying so hard to be brave. I brushed the hair back from her face and kept my hips still, even with her body pulsing around me in little warning waves. “You’re about to make a mess all over my dick. I can feel it.”
Her eyes widened.
The blush that followed was violent.
“Jamison,” she breathed, scandalized and needy at once.
“Yes, baby. That’s what’s happening.” I gave her a tiny thrust, barely more than a roll of my hips, and watched her eyes lose focus. “Your body knows. You’re squeezing me too hard to pretend otherwise.”
“I can’t—”
“You can.” I kissed her mouth, then stayed close enough that every word touched her lips. “You already did once. This one’s mine too.”
Her breath caught.
Mine.
That word had become a key in her body.
Every time I used it, she opened a little more.
I slid my hand between us again, finding her clit.
“There you go,” I whispered. “Stay with my fingers.”
She clung harder. “It’s too much.”
“I know. You can take too much for a little while.”
Her mouth opened, and no sound came out.
I circled slowly, keeping my cock buried inside her, letting her clench around me while my fingers gave her somewhere sweet to fall.
“Such a good girl,” I said, dragging my mouth along her cheek. “Keeping my dick warm and safe while Daddy takes care of you.”
She whimpered.
The sound tipped something over in me, but I held the line. Barely. The pressure of her pussy around me was unbearable now, her body gripping me in rhythmic little pulses, each one pulling pleasure up my spine and making my hips beg for movement.
She shook, then melted.
Her orgasm took her slowly at first, a tight little shudder deep around my cock, then harder as my fingers kept moving. Her back arched. Her head pressed into the pillow.
“That’s it,” I praised, voice rough. “That’s my baby. Come on my cock. Good girl.”
She trembled beneath me, and I had to lock every muscle in my body not to follow her. She was too tight, too wet, too fucking beautiful falling apart around me. Her hands dragged down my back, then gripped my shoulders as if the pleasure had made her desperate for something solid.
I held her down without trapping her, chest to chest, mouth at her temple, fingers easing her through the last waves until the hard clenching softened into weak little flutters.
“Oh, baby,” I whispered. “There you go.”
Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused and stunned.
I kissed the corner of her mouth. “All done?”
She tried to answer. Failed.
Pride moved through me, sharp and satisfied.
“That good?”
She nodded against the pillow.
“Beautiful girl.”