Chapter 21 #3
I scan his face for any hint of deception, but I come up empty. He means it, and I don’t know what to do with that information or the freedom from expectations.
“Sofía,” he presses. “Can you tell me what’s going on up here?”
Three gentle taps hit my temple, and discomfort claws up my throat. I can’t handle that look. This is supposed to be fun, easy, uncomplicated, not heavy with emotion. His gaze flicks down to my breasts, traversing down my body. I take a steadying breath and push the past out of my mind.
This is new. This is whatever I want it to be. I hold the power.
Blood rushes to my head, and I shake my emotions away like an Etch A Sketch. They don’t belong here.
“Do you want to stop?” he asks. “We could eat snacks and watch a movie.”
Affection gleams in his gaze, and the strength of it lifts me higher. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“All right, then.” He presses a gentle kiss to my head, then holds a palm out. “Spit.”
I do so without hesitation. I’ll be unpacking that tomorrow once he’s not standing naked in front of me. He spreads the saliva along his shaft, up and down, and I track the action, mesmerized.
Pressing my foot to his thigh, I push him back and rise from the bed. The column of his throat bobs as I drop to my knees, replicating my position earlier.
There’s power in watching him unravel, tracking the minuscule changes in his features. Discomfort fades and enjoyment blossoms when he meets my gaze and groans, “Fuck, I’m a lucky man.”
My core throbs, and I replace his hand with mine, languidly pumping. The rough carpet digs into my knees, but the sting adds to the tension.
I tip my chin, tongue darting out to tease the tip of his cock. Another groan tumbles from Jett, the sound igniting a flame inside me, and I suck him into my mouth, widening my jaw to take him fully.
The position suggests he’s the one in power here, but even on my knees, I know I hold every ounce between us. He gathers my hair, wrapping it around his wrist and guiding my movements.
Rough, throaty sounds fill the room, and he pulses against my tongue. His grip tightens, and I add pressure as I suck him, twirling my tongue around the tip.
“Keep doing that, and this will be over,” he says.
I smile around him and do it again.
He takes control, thrusting his hips faster, his grip on my hair gentle but firm. Energy builds in my abdomen, satisfaction growing with each of his groans. The tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and I suppress a gag.
A surprised laugh escapes him when I squeeze his ass, my nails digging into the firm muscles. The amusement shifts into heightened pleasure as I drag my teeth along his shaft, gentle but teasing.
Jett turns feral, offering choppy thrusts until he groans and shatters apart, spilling into my mouth. It’s so fucking hot, the way he steps back and admires the view, all satisfied male.
His thumb swipes against my swollen lips, and he lifts me from the ground, setting me on the edge of the bed.
“Stay here,” he commands, sauntering to the bathroom.
I stare at his butt as he walks away—it’s a good one, objectively speaking. The thought pulls a rogue giggle from my chest, and he returns with a warm towel, lips tipped up in a satisfied grin. My throat constricts as he cleans me up, wiping the cloth along my skin.
I search for my scattered clothing, torn between saying goodbye and slipping out the door before he can kick me out. Jett reappears with a t-shirt in his hands and a pair of shorts slung low on his hips.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my room,” I say, bending to dig my bra out from beneath the nightstand.
We’ve fooled around, and now it’s time for me to go. I know how the dance often goes, and I could use the space to deconstruct what happened and why I’m twisted and mushy about it.
I’m captured by the hips and pulled into his chest, his arms wrapped around my shoulders.
“I can still taste you on my tongue, Sofía. I think we can share the same bed without spontaneously combusting,” he says, a smug grin tugging against his lips. “Put this on.” When I make no move to take the shirt, he says, “Or you can sleep naked. That’s fine, too.”
One-upped, I slip the shirt over my head. It smells like him.
Jett leaps into the bed. “Come here.”
There’s a raspiness to the demand that gets me to drop my clothes and crawl into bed beside him, leaving a sliver of space, which he demolishes, his arm wrapped around my waist and his warmth seeping into me.
“You don’t have to leave after, not if you want to stay.” He brushes his fingers up and down my bicep in a soothing motion. “I want you to stay,” he says finally.
“This is only while we’re in Australia,” I tell him, mostly to remind myself this has an end date, and I would do well to remember that.
His fingers falter before resuming their motion. “Then I plan to make the most of it,” he declares.
The words are more a challenge than agreement, but he says nothing more, his gentle touch lulling me into a state of tired bliss.
It could be so easy with him.
It’s the last thought on my mind before I fall into a deep slumber.