His fingers dip lower, tracing the seam of me through the thin cotton. I'm already wet and the pressure of his touch sends sparks of pleasure radiating outward.
"Fuck, Talia," he breathes, breaking the kiss to rest his forehead against mine. "You're soaked."
"I know." My voice is barely recognizable, thick with want.
He makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan, then hooks his fingers into my jeans and pulls.
I help him, wiggling my hips until the denim slides down my thighs and pools at my feet. I step out of them, trembling now as his gaze travels over my body.
He unbuckles his belt with quick, efficient movements, never taking his eyes off me. The leather hisses as he pulls it free. He pops the button on his jeans, drags down the zipper, and shoves both jeans and boxer briefs down in one motion.
My mouth goes dry at the sight of him—hard and thick, the tip already glistening. I reach for him, wanting to feel the weight of him in my hand, but he catches my wrist before I can make contact.
"Later," he says, his voice strained. "I need—I need to be inside you. Now."
He guides me backward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. I sink down onto the mattress, looking up at him through my lashes as he stands over me, all hard lines and taut muscle.
"Jake," I say, reaching for him again.
He follows me down, his weight pressing me into the comforter. His mouth finds mine once more—rough, urgent, demanding.
I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him closer, feeling the hard length of him slide against my core through the damp fabric of my panties.
He rips the thin cotton aside with an impatient tug, and then the head of his cock is pressing against my entrance, slick and hot. My breath hitches.
"Look at me," he demands.
I open my eyes, meeting his gaze. He's raw, vulnerable—everything he usually keeps locked away is right there on the surface. The fear of losing me. The relief of having me back.
He enters me in one slow, relentless thrust, filling me completely. My body stretches to accommodate him, and I moan at the fullness—at the rightness of having him inside me again.
He stills for a moment, letting me adjust, his breath ragged against my ear. Then he begins to move—deep and steady, each thrust hitting that spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids.
I arch into him, my nails digging into his shoulders, leaving crescent marks on his skin. The sound of our bodies meeting fills theroom—the wet slide of flesh against flesh, the creak of the bed, our mingled breathing growing more desperate by the second.
"Jake," I pant, my voice breaking. "Please—"
"I know," he groans, his pace quickening. "I've got you."
His hand slips between our bodies, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at my apex.
He circles it with the pad of his thumb, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, and I feel my climax building—coiling tighter and tighter in my core.
"Come with me," he growls, his voice strained.
His thumb presses harder, and I shatter.
His name tears from my throat as pleasure crashes through me in waves, my body convulsing around him.
He follows moments later—his hips stuttering, his release pulsing hot inside me as he buries his face in the curve of my neck.
We collapse together, tangled and breathless.
He’s still inside me when he lifts his head to look at me, his blue eyes soft.
“I’m not letting you leave,” he says quietly. “Ever again.”
I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, feeling the faint scratch of stubble beneath my touch.
