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“Mhm,” I murmur against her skin as I press a soft but insistent kiss against her hip bone.
“Why are you trying to take care of me?”
“Because you deserve it,” I say, stroking a finger over the fabric of her lacy underwear. I could have taken them off, but I like the look of the black lace against her bare skin. I like knowing she wore these just for me. She shudders under my touch, a noise escaping her throat that would drive any man to the edge.
I kneel in front of the kitchen counter, her legs draped over my shoulders, positioning myself squarely in front of her pussy,which is glistening just for me. I exercise a heroic amount of self-control not to devour her right this second. Instead I hold her thighs open, placing a soft kiss on the inside of one and then the other.
She whimpers, her back arching, trying to push herself toward me, but I don’t give her what she wants just yet.
“You spend so much energy taking care of yourself . . .” I say and brush my mouth against her wet, swollen lips. I want to feel her quake against my hands; to hear her say my name while I guide her to her orgasm; to feel her finish knowing I was the sole reason for her pleasure.
She groans, her fingers gripping my hair.
“And now it’s my turn.”
I give her what she wants then, as it’s really what we both want. But tasting her does nothing to satisfy my hunger for her; it only makes me insatiable. Like a vampire taking its first feed, I don’t even feel in control of myself.
She moves against me, grinding herself against my chin, my mouth. She digs her heels into my back and I tighten my grip on her thighs just to ground myself—to keep myself from consuming her entirely.
Every noise she makes burrows its way under my skin, imprinting on me. I drag it out for as long as I can, savoring the taste of her on my lips and the sound of my name on hers.
Her pleasure stamps itself onto my brain, altering my chemistry, forever changing me into a man who exists only to bring this kind of gratification to this woman.
I stop when she asks but not a second before. After she’s made noises muffled against her own hand that I will dream about tonight and every night to come for months. Years.
Only when she pushes my head away as I try to go back for more do I get off my knees and stand between her legs where she’s sprawled out on the counter, still catching her breath.I’m completely consumed by her, unable to keep myself from running my hands over her body, rolling her nipples between my fingers for the sheer delight of it, planting soft kisses along her stomach, her chest, her hips—any skin I can find. I’ve never felt a wanting that burned as hot as this. It’s a wildfire inside of me, unquenchable and nearly out of control.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” I say between kisses.
“Was that your first time doing that?” she asks, out of breath, a touch of wonder in her voice.
“No.” I chuckle against her skin.
She weaves her fingers in my hair again, moving me as she sits up.
“You made it difficult to be quiet,” she says and hauls me toward her for a kiss.
With the taste of her still on my lips, she kisses me—tongue, teeth, lips, and a hunger for me that I thought I might have depleted her of, but she seems to have endless reserves. And thank god, because I don’t think I’m done. I want more. I want everything she’ll give me.
“You did a very good job. Perhaps I should reward you,” I whisper and slip my knuckle over her clit. She inhales a sharp breath, sinking her teeth into my shoulder.
Jade reaches for my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them before I have a chance to help or do it myself. She expertly moves the fabric of my boxers, and by the time her hand is wrapped around my length, I haven’t had a chance to protest and tell her what I really want to do. But the way she’s moving her hand makes it difficult to remember any words I know, much less the ones I want to say.
I’ve been touched like this before—a soft hand stroking me, pleasure building inside of me until all the tension breaks. But this touch, her touch . . . it’s like I’ve been holding my breath underwater and I just broke the surface. It’s deep gulps of freshair in my lungs, and I am so glad I didn’t die before I felt her hands on me.
Her touch is so satisfying that it’s only going to take me about five more seconds to get to the end of this. I clutch at the countertop, at her, my fingers leaving indents in her bare thigh. My breathing feels out of control. I feel like I might catch fire or explode into a thousand pieces.
“Jade,” I pant. “Please, I-I want you.”
“I’m right here,” she whispers, her mouth right next to my ear. She drags her teeth along my neck, licking and kissing in a way that only serves to bring me closer to the end.
“No, I . . . I want to be inside you,” I manage to say, and she stops, her hand still wrapped around me, eyes meeting mine with a question.
“You want to . . . Say that again,” she prompts as if she didn’t hear me right the first time.
“I want to have sex with you,” I say. My face heats. It feels like such a bold thing to say, but I don’t break eye contact. She needs to know how serious I am.
This is the point I never got to with anyone else. It never felt right. I never felt close enough to them. But with Jade . . . everything feels different. Like at any moment, lightning might strike us and we’ll shatter.
