My nipples are hard points, cool and wet from his attention to them. “Hailey,” he whispers, kissing my cheek. “Don’t cover your mouth. I want to hear you. Don’t hold back.”
Slowly, I open my eyes and meet his, naked hunger still stamped on his face. He slides one leg over mine, pressing himself against my thigh.
“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, his voice low and full of heat and promise. “Scream if you want to. I don’t mind a bit.”
Dragging my hand from my mouth, I whimper again because he speeds up the tiny circles, and my hips move, seeking more.
All the teasing he’s done has me on edge, so close, but I don’t even know what I need. I’ve never … it’s never … no one’s ever made me feel like this before.
His mouth covers mine, his tongue thrusting into my mouth as he rubs my clit even faster. I moan and whimper into his mouth, my whole body moving as it seeks the release it’s so close to finding.
When he changes something, I tear my mouth away from his and manage to pant, “No, don’t, so close, before …” And even though it’s a bunch of disjointed words without clear direction, he picks up on what I mean and goes back to what he was doing before. “Yes, that, don’t stop, don’t stop,don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop.” And then I detonate, sparks flashing, muscles convulsing and pulsing and he keeps going, keeps my orgasm going, his mouth covering mine again, and I’m clinging to him like he’s my only anchor in the storm he’s unleashed inside me.
He stays with me as I ride out the last of the orgasm, kissing me as I lie there boneless but not as satisfied as I would’ve expected after that.
I peel my eyelids open when he moves away from me to discover he’s made his underwear disappear, and I get my first good look at his proud dick, standing upright, the tip glistening. A quick glance at his face reveals that he’s watching me watch him as he grips himself, giving himself a couple of slow strokes before tearing open the condom and rolling it on.
Then he’s moving to my feet, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my underwear. I lift my hips to help him remove them, then make space for him to settle between my legs.
He’s still stroking himself slowly as he kneels between my splayed thighs, his other hand caressing my hip, my side, my belly. “You ready for me?” he murmurs, his voice remarkably tender.
“Yes,” I say just as softly.
Moving over me, he props himself up on his forearms, lowering his hips until he’s dragging the ridge of his cock over my center, back and forth and back and forth, once again teasing us both, each stroke moving back a little more, the broad head of his dick rubbing against my clit on the way back up until he moves back enough that when he presses forward again, he presses inside me. He doesn’t alter his pace, keeping his hips moving slow and steady, each forward thrust moving him deeper until his hips are, at last, flush with mine.
He pauses then, capturing my lips once more, giving me time to adjust.
It’s been … quite a while since I’ve had sex. I’d forgotten how good it feels. Or I never knew it could feelthisgood.
He takes his time, going slow, stroking, kissing, caressing me all over just like he was doing as foreplay, all of it running together into one continuous sensual feast. It’s … a revelation.
When he eventually starts moving faster, he wraps his arms beneath me, holding me against him, and I cling to him, riding the wave of bliss he’s taking us on until we reach the crest together.
My second orgasm isn’t as powerful as my first, but it’s somehow more satisfying as Jason comes with me, his hips snapping hard against mine then grinding into me as he finishes.
He stays with me, his muscles going lax but never releasing me, his body over mine like a living weighted blanket, anchoring me in a way I didn’t know I craved.
When he finally pulls back, he kisses me softly one last time before withdrawing, disappearing into the bathroom again, but this time for only a few seconds as he disposes of the condom and quickly washes his hands. Rejoining me in the bedroom, he slides into bed with me, pulling me against him so my head is pillowed on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me. I drapemy leg across his thigh, and he reaches down and hitches it higher so it’s across his waist. Satisfied, he makes a grumbly sound of contentment, his fingers trailing lightly up and down my thigh.
“So,” he says after a moment, “what’s the verdict?”
“The verdict?”
“Was this a one-night only engagement? Or do I get an encore?”
Laughing, I bury my face in his shoulder. “I’m sure we can arrange future performances. Especially if they’re all likethat.”
He grins, tipping my chin up to kiss me on the mouth. “I guarantee they’ll be as good or better.”
“Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Jason
Hailey spendsthe night in my bed, and I hate that I have to leave the next day for three games on the road. Whatever understanding we may have reached feels tenuous, at best, and I’m afraid that if I’m gone for a week, when I come back, she’ll go back to being the timid little mouse she’s been since moving in.
Sure, there’ve been flashes of her fully confident self. But the way she curls up on the couch like she’s afraid to take up space and mostly keeps to her room feels like she’s trying to minimize her presence in my home—in my life—as much as possible. Even with going out after the game and planning the reception—she’s happy to go along with whatever I want, barely venturing an opinion, even when asked directly.
