When I come, I dig my teeth into Jansen’s neck, using his flesh to muffle my screams, his groan and matching bite making the spasms linger, lasting longer than they normally would.
Then his fingers are gone, and the blunt head of his cock is sliding into the mess of my orgasm, both of us panting, watching as it disappears inside of me.
“Oh God, beautiful,” he mutters, his damp hand cradling my cheek, the scent of me bright on his skin.
“Fuck me, Jansen,” I demand, my voice shaky, trembles still coursing through me.
“Yes, ma’am,” he says.
He shifts his grip to my hips; I wrap my legs around his waist, and then I’m only there for the ride.
The power of his thrusts would have me flying back if he didn’t keep me planted where he wants me, and every time he bottoms out, we both gasp.
Steady, brutal, I dig my fingers into his shoulders, my head thrown back, barely able to stay upright. The edge of another orgasm beckons, and somehow, he knows it, wrapping his arm around my waist, locking me against him, freeing his other hand to tease at my clit, the angle keeping his piercing from doing what it’s meant to.
“I’m not coming until I feel you squeezing my cock.”
I can only moan in response. A moment later, my orgasm rolls through me with the same steady, brutal power of his thrusts, his choked groan soon joining mine, the twitch of him inside of me making me whine.
When I manage a shuddering breath, I open my eyes to find shining green ones grinning back at me. Glittering, clear, the Jansen I know and love. He should know how I feel. From the beginning, Jansen has been everything welcoming, everything supportive. And he’s mine.
“Jansen?” I start, working up to it.
“I love you, Clara,” he blurts, the words falling from his mouth like they’ve been pressed against his lips for months. “I don’t know if you’re ready to hear that from me, or if you’re ready to be that for me, but I can’t keep the words in any longer. Because I love the way you smile, and the way you always look for a solution when anybody else would choose to drown in disaster. I love the way you force me to do more, to be more, for you. I love watching you dance, and I love the way you look at me like I’m something special, like I’m worthy of having your love. Shit, Clara, I love you with every ounce of my frantic, messed up soul, and I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”
I laugh, tears falling. “God, I love you so much, Jansen. But you stole my moment. I was just going to tell you the same thing.”
He laughs, his smile bright in the electric lights, his lips buzzing with energy as he kisses me, a celebration without destination. “Once a thief, always a thief,” he whispers against my lips. But this kiss is another beginning, even if we’ve only just finished.
I open my mouth, welcoming the continued distraction, only to be stalled out by a fist pounding on the door. “Stop fucking and let us in. It’s too damn cold to piss outside. And there’s a line.”
Heat streaks up my neck and across my face, but Jansen just grins, brushing his nose against mine. “Time’s up, beautiful.”
“I think I might die of embarrassment leaving here,” I groan as he pulls out, rushing to grab a wad of toilet paper to clean me up.
Once we’re mostly decent, he grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. “You’re a queen, Clara. Don’t let them look down on you.”
Gazing up at him, he grins, while the guy on the other side of the door lets loose another flurry of knocks. “I love you, Jansen,” I whisper.
“I love you too, Clara. Now show them how regal you can be.”
Jansen pushes the door open, and I throw my shoulders back. A queen. I can pretend to be that.
“Dude, chill,” Jansen says, leading me past a line of four guys waiting for the restroom.
The weight of their eyes is heavy against my skin, but I put on a superior smile and strut by. No walk of shame for me. Because I’d never be ashamed of being with Jansen. And I shouldn’t feel shame for us wanting each other, no matter the location.
This isn’t convenient. And it doesn’t follow any rules that polite society wants it to. So, fuck the rules.
And when one guy mutters, ‘Fucking whore,’ I don’t even think before I lean in and whisper in his ear, “Jealous doesn’t look good on you, friend.”
Power, control, and having exactly what I want when I want it.
It’s delectable. And no one will take it away from me.
Not if I can help it.
Chapter 24
