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His gaze is intense, filled with unspoken promises and a fire that matches my own. “Jordyn,” he whispers, his voice rough, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. I’ve waited so damn long.”
“I’m glad we’re here now,” I manage to say, my voice barely more than a breath. And it’s true. Despite the fear, despite the past, this feels right. It feels inevitable.
“Then let’s not waste any more time,” he murmurs, leaning in again.
This kiss is slower, more deliberate, but no less consuming.
It’s a promise sealed with passion, a step into the unknown.
And right now, I’m ready for whatever comes next.
Bama’s hands move with a kind of reverence, sliding my shirt up and over my head.
A shiver runs down my spine as his lips brush against my collarbone, each kiss leaving a trail of fire on my skin.
He moves slowly, savoring every inch of me like he’s been starved for this moment.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my neck.
I can barely think, let alone respond, as he unhooks my bra with practiced ease.
The cool air hits my bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from his touch.
Piece by piece, he undresses me, taking his time.
Each article of clothing falls away, leaving me exposed under his intense gaze.
His fingers trace the lines of my tattoo, lingering on the roses wrapped around the skull.
A soft smile tugs at his lips, a rare glimpse of vulnerability that makes my heart skip a beat.
“Always loved this ink,” he says, his voice husky. “It suits you.”
“Thanks,” I manage to whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation.
He kneels in front of me, sliding my jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion.
My breath catches in my throat as his lips follow the path of his hands, pressing gentle kisses down my belly, my hips, my thighs.
It’s almost too much, the way he worships every part of me.
“Relax, darlin’,” he whispers, looking up at me with those ocean-blue eyes that seem to see right through me. “Just let me take care of you.”
And then he does.
His mouth finds its mark, sending shockwaves of pleasure through my entire body.
I grasp the edge of the bed, knuckles white, trying to steady myself.
His tongue works magic, precise and relentless, driving me to the brink and back.
“Jesus, Bama,” I gasp, unable to contain the moans that spill from my lips.
Every flick, every stroke feels like a promise kept, a testament to the connection we’ve both been craving.
“You’re so damn sweet,” he mutters against me, the vibrations adding another layer to the bliss. My legs start to tremble, and I know I’m close, teetering on the edge of something profound.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, my voice barely recognizable, thick with need. And he doesn’t.
