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Oh, how my chest ached, heavy with emotion and the scars of past heartbreaks. There were many parts of myself I wasn’t fond of, but I found myself believing Jake meant what he said. After all, he took one look at the parts of me I considered flaws and got on his knees to worship them.
“You can’t say such beautiful things to me. I don’t know how to take them.”
“Take what I say as me telling you the truth. That’s what it is.” He gathered the hem of my T-shirt and slipped his hands beneath to cup my breasts. “I like every little and big thing about you, Clara. Inside and out.”
“Jake…” He weakened my knees. I braced my hands on the counter in front of me. “What are you doing?”
“Touching my pretty girl.” He nudged my face with his, turning my head toward the mirror. “Look at you.”
He pulled my shirt above my breasts and held them in his rough, wide palms. His arms and hands were tan from the sun. Calluses lined his fingers, and a little motor oil darkened his nails. We were a study in contrasts, but his skin on my paler, softer flesh looked right.
“Look at us,” I said. “How do we fit so well?”
He shook his head. “I’m not one to question the good things in my life. We just do, mama.” He dipped to drag his lips along the side of my neck. “We just do.”
Releasing my breasts, he put pressure on the center of my back until I folded at the waist. Then he slid my panties down and nudged my legs apart. From behind, he delved between my legs, rubbing those rough fingers through my folds until he got to my swollen clit. I was already wet, so he glided over me, making circles around my most sensitive part. He had me panting in a minute, and I had to bite down on my lip so I wouldn’t cry out.
“So wet,” he murmured. “I need to be inside you.”
“I’m ready. We just have to be quiet.”
He bent over me, his mouth latching on to my shoulder. “I can do quiet, so long as I get to have you.”
“Please,” I whimpered. “I want you.”
He slid into me slowly, stretching me open as he took the place he’d claimed as his in my body. I forgot to breathe, too caught up in watching him in the mirror. The tendons in his neck strained, and his biceps flexed, his complete focus on where we were joined.
He held his control like the edge of a cliff. One slip would send him plummeting. But knowing Jake how I did, he wouldn’t let go until he was ready.
It made it easy for me to completely unwind, letting my troubles slip away as I sank into his possession.
He looked up, meeting my gaze in our reflection. “You’re so fucking beautiful. You know that?”
I couldn’t look at myself—only him. Looking at my tits swinging, my stomach rolls and scars, the lines in my face…would take me out of the moment.
“You’re the beautiful one,” I uttered.
“No.” He wrapped his arm around me to hold my chin. “Look at yourself. Don’t you see what I do? You’re made of silk and flower petals, sweetness. You’re soft and lovely all over.”
He trailed his knuckles along my cheek and down my chest to cup my breast. “I dream about these. Your rosy nipples in my mouth, pressed against my chest, the cream of your pretty skin bouncing in my face. Silk and flower petals. Cream and sugar.”
Sliding my hand over his, I held my breast with him, trying to see what he did. My silk and flower petals.
It didn’t work. I couldn’t think of myself that way. Knowing Jake saw my body as something like poetry was enough for me to appreciate it and understand why he liked it.
And I…I liked him. If he wanted me—to look at me and touch me—I would willingly hand myself over.
I watched him watch me with pure desire in his gaze as he thrust into me, deep and smooth. Colliding and parting, again and again, until my belly ached and filled, until I had to cover my mouth with my hand and bite down on my palm to stifle my cries. Warm lips on my shoulders and back and hot licks along my spine dragged me past the point of no return. I came around him, shuddering and shaking, falling limp on the counter.
Jake held on to my hips, plunging into me through my orgasm, and after, when I was sated and barely standing. He kept going, his deep strokes over my tender, sensitive flesh sending aftershocks through my limbs.
“Oh, fuck, Clara,” he groaned. “Look at me. I need those eyes on me right now.”
My eyelids sprang open like they were on a string and he was my puppet master. Our gazes locked. His bottom lip was clamped between his teeth, and he watched me like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked.
“Come on, Jake,” I whispered. “Fill me up, baby.”
My words were the tipping point. He drove in to the hilt and fell over me, groaning through his release. Then he gathered me in his arms and walked us to the tub, sitting on the edge with me in his lap. I rested my head on his shoulder, and he buried his nose in my hair. We sat like that for long minutes, our breathing steadying, my eyes growing heavy.
