“You’re really ready for this?” he whispers, reading my mind as always, but in that moment, I remember why we’re actually here.
I narrow my eyes, my pussy tightening around the tip of him, and glare at him.
“Jesse, I swear to God, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I’m going to?—”
I don’t know how I was going to finish that threat, but it doesn’t matter, because before I can say another word, he’s sliding in, filling and stretching me, and I’m gasping, back arching, and taking him even deeper. There’s no real foreplay, because we’ve had weeks and weeks of it. I’m wet, and he’s so hard and thick, and when he settles in deep, I have to catch my breath. He rests his head against mine, eyes hazy and filled with a need I know is reflected on my own face.
“I fucking love you, Hallie Young,” he whispers, pulling out before sliding in again.
“You’re mine,” I say through heated breaths, and his head drops to my shoulder, groaning deep as he retreats and then thrusts back into me. My hips rise to meet him, my breath catching as he fills me. Common sense leaves me as he fucks me, as my legs wrap around his hips, trying to get more, trying to get everything. My hands move to his jaw, and I pepper kisses everywhere I can, any inch of him I can reach. One of his hands cups my breasts, rolling the nipple, and I tighten around him.
It’s too much.
It’s not enough.
It’s everything I never knew I needed and everything I always wanted.
But most of all, it’s Jesse and me.
“Jesse,” I whisper, a frantic edge to my words as the pleasure builds in my belly, spiraling in on itself.
“I know. God, I know.” His words are a groan as his hips snap into mine, the tether he has on his restraint loosening.
“Jesse,” I repeat as it builds. The orgasm is going to wash over me soon, but I focus, trying to keep it at bay because some part of me wants to hold on to this for as long as I can, drag it out, and cherish it.
“It’s okay, Hallie. I’ve got you.”
“I—” I start, and his head pulls back to look at me, pupils blown as his hips continue to rock into me, his pelvis bumping into my clit with each move, tipping me closer and closer to the edge.
“We have forever, Hallie.”
And that’s when I fall.
As I come, he slams in deep, and his lips move to mine, smothering my moans, his chest rumbling with a groan of his own as he follows me over, as he comes with me.
Long minutes pass, and he continues to kiss me, the hard edge of him melting into something soft and sweet, before his lips move, trailing over my cheeks, chin, and nose. Finally, he pulls out and off me, disposing of the condom before crawling back into bed beside me.
“Well, I guess we can confirm it was not a fluke,” I mumble under my breath, still panting and wrung out. There’s a beat of silence, and I tip my head to the side to look at Jesse, only to see his eyes on mine, a broad smile on his lips, before he bursts out laughing. Before I can say anything else, he rolls to his side, hugs his arms around me, and tugs until I’m moving on top of him. “Jesse, I’m sweaty and gross!”
“Don’t care,” he says, settling my naked body on his, then locking an arm around my lower back to hold me in place before burying his face into my neck.
I sigh, but stop fighting him, not that I really want to. I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now than right here.
THIRTY
The next morning, I wake in an unfamiliar bed, my head on a familiar chest with light streaming into the room, and I have to fight back tears when everything feels so perfectly right.
This is what I’ve wanted. This is what’s been missing. His warm chest beneath my cheek, his thick arm around my back, the even sound of his breathing, not a worry about sneaking out before anyone catches me here. Even though part of me is nervous, worried about what happens next, another, louder part screams that it doesn’t matter: it’s going to work out.
“Morning,” Jesse’s gravelly voice says, rumbling against my cheek. I lift my head, and his hand moves, brushing hair back from my face and smiling softly down at me.
“Morning.”
A moment passes between us before he speaks again.
“How do you feel?”
I barely had a full drink at the bar last night, and while we fucked—a lot—last night, I know he’s not asking how I feel physically. He means with everything that happened the night before.
