"Eyes on me," he says, and I look down to find him watching me with those intense gray eyes.
His mouth touches me, and I shatter.
The pleasure is immediate and overwhelming. His tongue traces patterns I can't follow, finding spots that make me gasp and moan and grab fistfuls of the sheets. He's relentless, patient, obsessed with my pleasure in a way no one has ever been.
I come apart on his tongue with a cry that echoes off the walls. He doesn't stop, just slows down, gentles his touch, drawing out the aftershocks until I'm trembling and oversensitive.
Only then does he rise over me, his weight shifting as he braces himself above my body.
He's shed the rest of his clothes at some point—I hadn't even noticed when—and I get my first unobstructed look at all of him. He's big everywhere, imposingly so. Broad shoulders tapering to a lean waist, muscles carved and defined beneath tan skin, powerful thighs. The sight of him naked and wanting me is almost overwhelming.
He should scare me. The sheer size of him, the raw masculine strength coiled in every line of his body. He doesn't.
"Still sure?" he asks, his voice rough as gravel as he positions himself at my entrance, the blunt pressure making my breath hitch.
"Jett." I wrap my arms around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at his nape, and pull him down until our foreheads touch, our breaths mingling in the small space between us. "Please."
He pushes into me slowly, excruciatingly slowly, his eyes never leaving my face as he watches for any flicker of pain or discomfort. I gasp at the stretch, the burning fullness as my body adjusts to accommodate him—bigger than I expected, bigger than anything I've felt before, filling me so completely there's no room for anything else.
"Okay?" he grits out through clenched teeth, every muscle in his body gone rigid with the effort of holding perfectly still, giving me time to adjust.
"More. Please, Jett. Move."
He moves, and I lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.
It's intense. Consuming. He sets a rhythm that builds and builds, his hips rolling against mine, his mouth hot against my throat. He whispers in my ear between thrusts, praise and possession and things that make me blush even as they drive me higher.
"You feel so good, little bird. Like you were made for me," he murmurs against my ear, his voice thick with desire and strained control.
I moan, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks, claiming him the way he's claiming me.
"That's it. Take what you need from me. I've got you," he encourages, his breath hot against my skin as he maintains that relentless, perfect rhythm.
The tension coils tighter and tighter in my core, winding like a spring compressed to its limit. I can feel the edge approaching fast, that cliff I'm about to fall off, my entire body trembling with the nearness of it.
"I'm going to—" I can't finish the sentence, the words dissolving into another broken moan.
"I know, baby. I can feel it," he rasps. His hand slides between our sweat-slicked bodies, fingers finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that makes my vision blur. "Let go for me. I want to feel you come apart around me."
I shatter. The orgasm crashes through me in waves, pulling a cry from my throat that sounds like his name. He follows moments later, groaning against my neck, his body shuddering with release.
We lie there for a long moment, still tangled together, breathing hard. He's heavy on top of me, but I don't want him to move. I want to stay exactly like this forever.
Eventually, he lifts his head, those storm-gray eyes finding mine with an intensity that steals what little breath I have left.
"You okay?"
"Better than okay." I trace my fingers along the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble beneath my touch. "That was..."
"Yeah." A small smile curves his lips, softening the hard edges of his face. "It was."
He rolls off me but doesn't go far, pulling me against his side like he can't bear even an inch of distance between us. I rest my head on his chest, the steady thud of his heartbeat gradually slowing beneath my ear as we both come down from the high.
"Mine," he murmurs against my hair, the word a declaration and a vow all at once.
"Yours," I agree without hesitation.
"You're wearing my patch after this." His voice is rough with possessive certainty.
