His skin meets mine, and I gasp. The rough hair of his chest rubs my breasts. His lips close around my nipple. My fingers dig into his back. As he groans, the vibration hums through me.
He switches to my other breast. “Let me hear you.”
Then he finds the hollows of my hips. My breath quickens, and he slows. When I pull him closer, he gives me more.
I turn my head away from his intense gaze, but he catches my chin. “Look at me.”
As I do, his hand slides down my stomach, past my hip, to between my thighs. He touches me through my shorts, and I clench.
“There.” He hooks his fingers into my waistband. “Still good?”
“Yes.”
He pulls my boxers down and drops them off the side of the couch. His palm is flat on my stomach, then on the inside of my thigh, tracing the crease where it meets my body. “You’re shaking,” he says.
“So are you.”
His mouth curves, the barest crack. “Yeah.”
He slides off the couch onto his knees, hooks his hands under my thighs, and pulls me down toward the edge of the cushion.
“Jace—”
“I want to taste you.” He waits, his gaze locked on mine. I nod, and he kisses the inside of my knee. Then up to my thigh, unhurried.
His beard rasps against me, all the way to my spine.
When his mouth finds me, I moan again.
He spreads my thighs wider, and his tongue works carefully, testing my reactions. Back and forth, he flicks over my clit as I writhe, lost in the rising heat.
He finds the rhythm that makes my legs shake and stays with it. My fingers twist in his hair.
“Jace,” I say, a warning and a plea. “I’m?—”
“I know. That’s what I want.”
I arch off the couch. “Jace.”
He grips my hips and holds me steady through every wave, keeping his mouth on me until the last shudder passes. Then he kisses the inside of my thigh and lifts his head. His lips are wet. My wetness coats his beard. “I want you closer.”
He pulls me onto his lap on the couch. I straddle him, skin to skin, and he pulls me to him.
His fingers trace through the slick heat of me again, slow, almost tender.
“You’re so wet.” He circles my clit, and the edges of the room blur. “This for me?”
“Yes.” I can barely form the word. “For you.”
He slides a finger inside of me, and his thumb keeps working. As he kisses me, I taste myself on his mouth. He adds a second finger. Slow. Careful. Watching my face.
My muscles release. I sigh.
“That’s it.” His mouth is at my jaw. “You’re close again. Can you give me one more?”
I come apart a second time with his forehead pressed to mine. When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with a naked expression.
“Beautiful.” He says it like the truth.
