My throat tightens. I duck my head, hiding my face against his chest.
"That's how you make me feel too," I whisper. "Every time you touch me. Every time you look at me like I matter."
"You do matter." His arms tighten around me. "You're the only thing that matters."
The second time is slower.
We've cleaned up, changed the sheets, let our bodies recover. But the wanting hasn't faded. If anything, it's stronger now, sharpened by satisfaction instead of dulled by it.
This time, Jace takes control.
He lays me out on my back, arranges my limbs the way he wants them. My arms above my head, wrists crossed. My legs spread, knees bent, feet flat on the mattress. Open and exposed and entirely at his mercy.
"Don't move," he says. "Not until I say you can."
I shiver. Nod.
He kisses me deep and thorough while his hands roam my body, touching every inch of skin. His fingers trace patterns I can't decipher, mapping territories he's already claimed.
"I want to taste you," he says against my mouth.
"Yes." The word comes out breathless. "God yes."
He starts at my throat. Open-mouthed kisses that leave damp trails on my skin. He finds my pulse point and sucks hard enough to leave a mark, branding me where everyone will see.
Down to my chest, where he spends long minutes on my nipples. Licking circles around the areola, then flicking his tongue across the sensitive peaks. When he takes one into his mouth and sucks, the sensation shoots straight to my cock.
"Jace—"
"Quiet. I'm not done. It’s your turn to be tortured."
He moves to the other nipple. Gives it the same treatment while his fingers twist and pinch the first, keeping both of them hard and aching. By the time he's satisfied, they're swollen and tender, throbbing in time with my heartbeat.
Lower. Over my stomach, following the sparse trail of hair that leads from my navel. He dips his tongue into the hollow, makes me squirm with the ticklish sensation.
He bypasses my cock entirely, despite its obvious interest, and moves to my inner thighs instead.
"Jace, please—"
"Patience." His breath ghosts over my skin, making me shudder. "I told you. Every inch."
He bites the soft flesh of my thigh, hard enough to leave a mark. I moan, hips jerking off the bed, but I keep my hands where he put them.
He does it again on the other side. Then soothes the bites with his tongue, lapping at the reddened skin until the sting fades to warmth.
"You mark so beautifully," he murmurs against my thigh. "I could spend hours just watching the bruises bloom. Putting my teeth into you. Making you carry evidence of me for days."
"Please—"
"Please what?" He looks up, chin resting on my hip, eyes dark with intent. "Tell me what you want. Use your words."
"Touch me. Taste me. Put your mouth on me." The words tumble out, desperate and unfiltered. "I need to feel you. I need you to make me come. Please, Jace, please—"
He takes pity on me. Lowers his head and swallows my cock in one smooth motion, his fingers circling my asshole before pushing in and out, in time with his mouth..
I cry out, hands nearly breaking position before I catch myself. His mouth is hot and wet and perfect, working me with skill I didn't know he possessed. He takes me deep, relaxes his throat, lets me thrust up into it.
His hands grip my hips, holding me down when I try to fuck up into his face. He controls the rhythm, the depth, the pace. All I can do is lie there and take it.
