“Don’t play games with me, Birdie. Not when it comes to this. Not unless you want to lose,” he breathes.
But it doesn’t feel like losing. It’s anything but.
I swivel my hips, rocking into him, letting Jase ravage me in every way possible. What starts as measured movementsbetween us quickly turns frantic, hungry, desperate to release the pressure building here.
Every cell in my body feels electric, the nerves fine-tuned to his touch, his lips, his tongue, the hardness that only seems to increase with every motion of my hips. He’s both dominant and receptive, groaning and cursing between his mouth eating up my own gasps.
It’s a good thing, too, because I’m not being quiet. Not when he thrusts his hips up into me, hitting just the perfect spot that has me unraveling.
He’s going to push me over the edge, and neither of us has even taken our clothes off…
Jase abruptly removes his hand from my clit, and I want to cry out at the loss, but he grabs hold of my thighs and stands up, carrying me inside.
Blindly reaching for the floor-length curtain, he flings it sideways so that the fabric slides far enough down the rod to conceal the view of the bed from any potential voyeurs outside. There’s still enough natural light coming in despite the weather that I can see the storm isn’t just outside. It’s in his eyes, in his movements, in the possessiveness of his touch.
I barely perceive his steps before I’m laid down on his mattress. Jase lifts my hips and starts to draw the shirt up my body, all too ready to peel it off, but I grab his hand.
“You first.” It’s only fair. I’m already wearing next to nothing. I want the time to appreciate him.
And he’s all too happy to oblige.
It’s not like I haven’t seen Jase without a shirt on before, but this time, I allow myself to soak in every detail as he stands up to feed the cotton over his head.
And the sight is one to behold.
He had always been sinewy, but the amount of muscle, the definition, the contours now adorning his frame? It’s something else entirely.
Powerful.
He’d be the very definition of a Greek god if not for the tattoos. Hell, even those seem to fit, equally beautiful and brutal all at once.
The only visible ink on the front of his body apart from the sleeve of tattoos is the singular design placed above his heart. I had caught a glimpse of it the one morning in the kitchen, noting it looked like a section of an old map, the parchment torn in sweeping slashes as if shredded by claws. Taking in the details now, I can see it’s an intricately rendered map depicting the Treasure of Spada fromThe Count of Monte Cristo. I can also see the artist made it look like another sheet of parchment was beneath it, adorned in inked calligraphy. The same sentence is repeated again and again so that it can be read through the gaps in the map.
“God will give her justice.”
Jase undoes his jeans, easing the material down to reveal black boxer briefs beneath. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of those as well and just as easily discards them to the floor. And I’m more than a little intimidated by the sight in front of me. He’s so goddamn impressive.
His hands take hold of my ankles, gently pulling them apart. “Don’t do that, love. Don’t hide from me.”
It’s only now that I realize I have my legs drawn together. And it’s not from trepidation. No, it’s the only thing I can do to fend off the pulse throbbing at my core. And he sees that.
He lowers his mouth to my ankle, leaving searing hot kisses all the way up my leg, only stopping once he’s reached my panties. I lift my hips, allowing him to pull them off. Just as quickly, my shirt is discarded to the floor as well, and it’s themost naked I’ve ever been. The way Jase looks at me, it’s like he can see through more than flesh and bones. He’s looking at me like I’m the most exquisite thing to have ever existed.
He’s gripping my thighs, my hips, my ass, kneading my breasts, digging his fingers into soft flesh, and I’ve never felt more beautiful.
The fact that my body could elicit such a reaction from him, that it could have him groaning my name as his mouth maps out every inch of me, is enough to send me. I’m not just aching for him; I’m on the brink of insanity, desperate. When he releases his mouth from my nipple and begins retracing his path down my stomach, I all but whimper, curling my fingers into the back of his hair.
I know what he wants to do, but there will be time for that later. I need him. All of him.
Jase doesn’t have to be told twice. He reaches over to the nightstand and immediately returns, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth. The second he’s rolled on the condom, his weight presses me into the mattress, and his lips capture mine.
He’s measured in his movements, pushing into me slowly so I can adjust. I need it. Even with how wet I am, he’s a lot to handle. It takes a few thrusts before he bottoms out, and the feeling, the sheer fullness of him buried inside me, is enough to have my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
When he begins to pick up the pace, sounds escape me that I’ve never made before, and I don’t care how loud I am. My sounds only encourage him as every roll of his hips has him grinding faster, deeper, hitting me at just the perfect angle when he tilts my hips. His next thrust strikes me from the inside out, the pressure on my clit throttling me into my release.
My orgasm hits me so hard, I’m not sure if I’ve shut my eyes or just gone blind, because the world goes black as wave after wave rolls through me.
Before I can even come down from the high, Jase pulls out and flips me over. He’s adamant about claiming every inch of my body, but the position—or rather how he goes still at the sight—sends a spike of fear through me. The last time anyone ever saw my naked body from this side was wheneveryonesaw. I’ll never forget the comments people posted, and the most popular ones begin flooding my mind, but Jase silences them with his mouth as he begins tracing kisses along the length of my spine. Unlike me, that’s not where his head is gone. No, he’s admiring something else entirely, following the trail down to my ass.
