And I don’t think Jace Cooper has a fucking clue what to do with that.
Chapter Thirteen
Jace
Ihave never let anyone touch me the way Lola does.
Not this way, as if she’s trying to learn me instead of just using me for whatever the fuck she needs. I have always been the one in control, deciding how rough it gets, when to speed up, and when to slam on the brakes. But this… is different.
Lola is under the sheet, and I can feel every inch of her even when she’s not visible. The mattress dips as she shifts closer. The fabric brushes against my bare skin, and my body reacts before I can think to stop it, lock down the response, and pretend I’m unaffected.
Her hand moves over my stomach first, gentle and curious. Her fingers slide lower, tracing the muscles as if she’s memorizing something she wants to remember it forever,storing it away for reasons I can’t understand and probably shouldn’t desire.
I suck in a deep breath.
“Bells,” I warn, but there’s no real threat behind it.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, her fingers slide lower, brushing over the waistband of my boxers. When she traces the outline of my hard cock through the thin fabric between us, I hiss.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, half curse, half prayer to a god I stopped believing in years ago.
She does it again, this time more slowly, and I’m beginning to think she knows exactly how she’s affecting me.
My head falls back against the pillow, jaw clenched so tight I might crack a molar. Every muscle in my body is strung too tight, coiled and ready to snap. I’ve never been good at surrendering this much control because it is what kept me safe, kept me from getting too attached, too fucked up over someone who’d eventually leave anyway.
But with Bells, I don’t pull away. I don’t grab her wrist and flip the script.
Her fingers curl slightly, wrapping around my cock through the fabric, and I close my eyes. For once I allow myself to experience it. The gentle pressure.
Her hand gives my cock a slow, experimental stroke, and I grit my teeth hard enough to hurt.
Fuck.
Every drag of her touch is intentional. It feels dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with the way she’s peeling something back inside me. Something I can’t shove back into place once it’s exposed.
Her hair brushes my stomach as she moves lower, and I clutch the sheet in one hand, knuckles turning white, trying to hold onto something steady.
Because it’s not entirely about my cock reacting under her touch. It’s not solely the body’s mechanical response that knows what it wants. It’s about the way she crawled into my bed tonight because she couldn’t breathe alone. Because the walls of her own room were closing in and she needed somewhere safe to land, and for some fucked up reason, she chose me.
It’s about the way she pressed her hand over my heart earlier, palm flat against my chest, fingers splayed wide as if she needed proof that something was still beating steady in her life. As if my heartbeat could anchor her when everything else was spinning out of control.
It’s about the fact that when this blows up, and it will because everything I touch eventually goes to shit, it’s going to hurt in a way I’ve never let it hurt before.
Her hand moves again, more confidently now, and I bite back a curse as heat floods through me, pooling low in my gut. My body betrays every wall I’ve carefully built over the years.
Lola hooks her fingers into the waistband of my boxers and tugs, and I brace myself for what’s about to happen. My cock is hard, throbbing, aching for whatever the fuck she wants to do with it. I close my eyes and try to get lost in the sensation as she frees me from my underwear.
Her fingers trace the underside of my cock, featherlight, and I hiss through my teeth, before her tongue swirls around the tip and I moan out loud.
I never fucking moan. Not ever. But here I am, making noises I don’t recognize, and she hasn’t even done anything yet. It’s the anticipation of what’s about to happen has me unraveling.
Lola makes me lose my fucking mind and my dick isn’t even in anything warm yet. It’s the touch of her tongue and I’m lost to the sensation, drowning in it.
She licks me again, slowly dragging from base to tip, and I hiss.
She does it again, taking her time, and I have the impression she honestly loves the way she has me on a leash, the invisible one where I’m at her beck and call, and all I can think about is her warm mouth wrapped around my cock.
I move my hands up above my head, fists clenched in the pillow, knuckles white, fighting the urge to take control. From grabbing her hair and fucking her mouth the way I want to, the way I’ve done with others. Fast, rough and mindless.
