He smiles as I keep stroking. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We do that for a while. Jasper likes it when I swipe my thumb over the crown of his erection. He explores me, tugging gently at my balls, and I moan.
He pulls me to the bed, dragging his stubble across my cheek, before he grabs hold of my hips and rolls us so he’s on top. He kisses me as I laugh, and his eyes sparkle as he gazes down at me. “I can do better than that.”
And oh boy, can he ever.
Jasper Jackson at my service.
It’s been a while for me, and I’m immediately reminded how very little there is in this world that is truly better than a man with his head between your thighs and mouth on your skin.
I mean, revenge and vanquishing evil maybe, but other than that?
“Jasper.” I gasp, fingers clutching his hair. If I’m hurting him, he doesn’t seem to care. He’s got one hand on my stomach, holding me down when I buck up against him. My cock is standing at full attention, and my nerve endings tingle with every swipe of his tongue as he gets closer and closer to where I need him. My toes curl in the sheets, my breath is coming in soft shallow pants, and my palms twitch with—“Jasper.” I let go of his hair, horrified at the streaks of white where the strands have frozen and—“Jasper. Wait.”
He glances up at me, chin on my pubic bone, breath hot on my skin. “What is it?”
“I—” I flex my palms, trying to think of somewhere I can put them that I won’t regret. “I need a minute. To get some control back.”
He kisses the inside of my thigh, sucking a bruise that makes me squirm. “Thought we agreed you didn’t have to be in control all the time?”
“No. Wait.” I push up to my elbows, wriggling free of him. “You don’t understand.”
He follows on his hands and knees, cock heavy between his legs, and I hate that I have to slow us down.
“I need to show you something,” I say.
Jasper grumbles something I don’t understand, but he lies on his side, pressed against me. He kisses my hip and runs his palm over my thigh, dipping inside to the thin skin there and?—
I yelp and he freezes, expression turning concerned. I’m breathing deep, trying to hold myself together, and he seems to finally realize I’m not playing coy. He sits all the way up, leaningagainst the plain headboard and positioning me so I’m cradled between his thighs. It’s a nice place to be. I could stay right here for a long time. He kisses my neck, but there’s less heat in it now, and my breathing slows.
“Show me,” he says.
I take his hand in mine, positioning us so his palm faces up and mine is face down with an inch or so between. I close my eyes, trying to find the switch that’s becoming easier to connect with every time I look for it. Careful. Careful. Can’t turn Jasper’s apartment into a deep freeze. I breathe slowly, finding the control that means he’ll feel the cold, but I won’t accidentally turn his arm to a block of ice.
“What—” Jasper says, before he sucks in a breath, then another as he pulls his hand away, hissing. “What the hell is that?”
“Call it a gift?” I say. “A special skill.”
“But what is it?”
A glass of water sits on his nightstand, so I pour a small puddle into the cupped palm of my hand. As we watch, the few small drops solidify and freeze over.
“It’s my birthright,” I say. “From my mother.”
His nose wrinkles. “You want to talk about your mother? Now?”
Oh my god. The slushy water drips over my skin as I put my palms to my own cheeks, trying to cool the flaming embarrassment there. Do I want to talk about this? No. Not right now. We’re two naked guys, dicks out, and suddenly I need to talk about my dead mother? There’s my usual brand of blunt and inappropriate, and there’s whatever this is. Jasper’s erection is deflating quickly, and I can’t say I blame him. I only wanted to explain why things might get a little chilly around here as he drove me to orgasm with his too-talented tongue. But it’s hard toexplain what I can do—even though I still hardly understand it—without explaining who I am.
I climb up to my knees and turn to face him, kissing him so he knows I’m still here with him. With a deep breath, I say, “I need you to not freak out, okay?”
He laughs beneath my lips. “That’s what people say when they know the other person is definitely going to freak out.”
“Trust me when I tell you the disclaimer is necessary.”
He sighs, but he lifts his hands so he can rest the back of his head against them. The swirl of brown hair in his armpits is a temptation. His flat nipples and soft hair over his chest and down his belly are an invitation. Like this, he paints such an enticing picture. I could easily skip the explanations and pick up where we left off.
But we said partners, and he needs to know.
