The first touch is soft… but the second is not.
JAXON
She falls apart so beautifully.
Her thighs tense under my hands, her breath breaking in quick, soft sounds that shoot straight through me. Every time she says my name, every whisper, every gasp, I feel her sinking deeper, giving more.
I’ve wanted this. More than I should. More than I planned. More than I ever admit.
But now that I have her? There’s no restraint left.
Her legs tremble as I stroke her slowly at first, testing, watching her reaction, the way her mouth falls open, the way her hips lift into my hand.
Good.
I lower my mouth to her collarbone. She arches. Perfect.
“Look at me,” I whisper against her skin.
Her eyes meet mine, shy, flushed, wrecked.
Beautiful.
I slide my fingers over her again, firmer this time.
She cries out softly.
“That’s it,” I murmur. “Let me hear you.”
Her breath stutters. Her hips move. Her fingers tangle in my hair and pull me closer.
I groan into her neck.
She feels everything. So intensely. So honestly.
I kiss her again, rougher, deeper, while my hand works her slowly, building heat, building tension, building the moment she’s about to fall apart in my hands.
Her breath breaks in a gasp.
“Jaxon, I..."
“I know,” I whisper. “Let go for me.”
Her thighs tighten.
Her whole body shudders.
And then she breaks.
Softly. Powerfully. Completely.
I hold her through it, steady, controlled, kissing her slow as she trembles.
Her breath falls against my mouth. Her fingers clutch my shoulders. Her body melts into mine.
When she finally collapses softly against my chest, I stroke her hair, calming her, bringing her back.
“That’s it,” I whisper. “I’ve got you.”
