“Very good,” I breathe.
My heart is slamming against my ribs like it’s fighting to get to her first. My pulse climbs into my throat, making it hard to swallow, harder to speak. Everything in me feels too big for my skin, too much feeling, too much wanting, too much of her, and the only thing stopping me from spilling all of it is the thin thread of control holding my voice together.
If I say anything else right now, it’ll break. I’ll break. Right open, right in front of her. So “very good” it is.
The air between us is fragile and charged, as if we’re standing on the edge of something neither of us has ever stepped into before.
She slides her hands up my chest, slow and exploring, like she’s guiding me through a world she knows better than anyone. It’s intimate. More intimate than anything I’ve ever done. More intimate than anything I thought existed.
I feel her fingertips. Her breath against my jaw. Her heartbeat, soft and steady under my palm.
And suddenly I am painfully aware of how much power she always gives away just to move through a room. How much trust she must have in her surroundings. How much courage. The blindfold steals my sight, but it gives me something else. This is her trusting me with the way she experiences the world and asking me, silently, to meet her there.
“Jason,” she whispers again, pulling me closer.
I find her lips blindly, and when our mouths meet, the heat spikes so fast I forget every rule I’ve ever made for myself. My sense of smell explodes with the scent of her skin, her shampoo, the faint sweetness at the base of her throat that pulls me in like a tide.
She arches under me, and the sound she makes… God, that sound sears my spine like a live wire. My hands slide along her waist, guided by instinct alone, and she trembles beautifully when I lower my mouth to her neck.
“Thank you,” she breathes. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
Her hands frame my face, and she kisses me with a tenderness that ruins me completely.
Our tender kiss ignites, slow warmth flashing into something deeper, something hungry, something I don’t have a word for. It rises too fast, too big, swelling in my chest until it feels like my ribs can’t hold it. Until I’m sure I’m going to break open from the inside out.
Then Violet pulls back, breath brushing my lips, her palms pressed against my chest.
“I want to be on top.”
For a beat, I forget how to breathe. Not because of the words themselves, but because of the certainty in them. The confidence. The trust. She’s not asking for control. She’s asking for closeness. For connection on her terms.
And in that moment, I realize she could ask me for anything and I’d give it to her. Gladly. Without hesitation.
I ease back, giving her space, guiding her with gentle hands but letting her lead every movement. She shifts beneath me, knees brushing my hips, fingers gliding down my ribs as she feels for where she wants to be. Every touch is deliberate. Anchored. Hers.
My back hits the sheets, and she shimmies forward, then it’s all heat radiating off her in waves that melt straight into my bones. She trails her fingers down my abs, slow enough to wreck me, lower until her touch grazes my cock.
A sharp breath punches out of me.
She wraps her hand around me, confident and sure, guiding me, pressing me against her heat. And then, slowly, achingly slowly, she sinks down onto me, inch by inch, until she’s taken all of me.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” I choke out, voice wrecked. “You take me so good.”
I sit up because I need her skin, her warmth, her breath, need to feel her chest against mine, need to hold her like I might come apart if I don’t. I need her. Being with Violet this way, sharing her world this way, is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. And nothing, nothing, will ever be the same after this.
She rocks her hips into me, a slow grind that tears a groan straight from my throat. I fight to let her set the pace, to follow her rhythm instead of driving mine, because instinct tells me this is what she needs. My hands glide up her spine, urging her gently, supporting her as she moves.
Fuck, she feels so good.
So fucking good. Like she was made to fit me. Like something in me has been starving for this, and I just never knew it.
Her fingernails dig into my shoulders, sharp little crescents of need, and her breaths turn fast and ragged, each one breaking across my mouth like she’s forgetting how to breathe properly.
“Jason… I… I’m?—”
She cuts off with a strangled sound, her body clamping down around me in tight, pulsing waves that nearly knock the air out of my lungs. She picks up her pace, rocking onto me with reckless, beautiful abandon, chasing her climax like she’s falling into it headfirst.
God, she’s stunning like this. Even though I can’t see her, she’s more beautiful in this moment than she’s ever been. Wild. Unfiltered. Completely in the moment with me.
