Ofme.
I finally get all of his buttons undone and shove his shirt off of his broad shoulders. My bra falls all the way off while his hands are momentarily off of my breasts.
And then my bare chest is against his while he pulls me closer, kissing me harder, walking me backward to the bed.
The smooth, firm skin on his back radiates heat beneath my hands. I can’t stop stroking him, flashing back to rubbing aloe all over him.
He’s broader than he was in Fiji. Thicker. More solid.
My shield against the world.
The only thing that matters.
The backs of my thighs bump the mattress, and then Jonas’s lips are gone from mine, and he’s scooping me up into his arms and settling me on top of the rose petals. I hear a clink and a swoosh, and before my lust-addled brain can translate the noises, a fully naked Jonas is crawling onto the bed with me.
And he—
I swallow.
Swallow again as I stare down between our bodies, at his thick erection jutting out from a nest of dark curls, the broad, wide head, the veins wrapping around the silky skin of his cock.
I stroke him once, twice, and then he puts a hand to mine with a muffled grunt.
“Next time,” he says.
And then Jonas Rutherford, my former celebrity crush, the father of my baby, my friend—and now my boyfriend?—slides down my body, peels off my panties, and settles his head between my thighs.
He presses a kiss inside my left thigh as I part my legs wider. Then he presses a kiss inside my right thigh.
And then my breath comes out in a gasp as his tongue traces my slit and ends with a flick of my clit. “Oh my god.”
“Delicious,” he murmurs against my pussy.
And then he does it again, holding my quaking thighs that I can’t spread any wider despite how hard I’m trying. I arch my hips into his mouth while he licks and sucks and feasts on me, my brain going completely blank, nothing existing except the sensations he’s sparking between my legs.
He strokes my thighs with gentle fingertips, nearly tickling, but not quite, while he swirls his tongue around my clit.
I’m pumping my pelvis into his mouth. Can’t stop. Don’t want to stop.
I’m reaching—reaching—reachingfor that sensation spiraling deep inside of me, so rich, so heady, so close, building heavier with every stroke of his tongue until my vagina clenches and my hips buck off the bed.
I can’t speak.
Can’t say his name.
Can only pant incoherent noises while the strongest orgasm of my life sweeps over me. My legs go straight up in the air. I curl my fingers into his hair, and he keeps going.
Sucking on my clit while I come.
And come.
And come.
All over his face.
I come so hard my feet cramp. My shoulder too.
And I don’t care.
