His fingers press on my inner thigh as his tongue delves into my mouth. Each stroke against my clit is sensual but demanding, just as Jase is. Every second I feel hotter. And with his palm pressing against my most sensitive area, a sweat breaks out along my skin so suddenly, I moan into the air and throw my head back to breathe.
He rocks his palm against my heat, and presses his hardened cock into my thigh. His stubble scratches along my neck and the sensation pushes me closer and closer until the all-consuming need throws me off the edge of my release.
“Spread your legs wider,” he commands, pulling my thighs farther apart and I obey.
Breathless still with the waves of pleasure rocking through me, my nails dig into the bedsheets as I wait for him to settle between my hips.
There isn’t an ounce of hesitation at having him between my legs after touching me like that.
The warmth of the high is still wrapped around me, making the small touches he gives me trace pleasure on my skin. “Are you expecting your period?” His question quickly changes that.
My lungs lurch and I’m quick to push him off of me.
“Fuck.” Embarrassment rages in my heated cheeks and I climb off the bed as I snag my clothes, keeping my legs closed tight.
I can’t look at him as I scatter to the bathroom, flicking on the light and digging through the basket in the cabinet under the sink. Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
I haven’t had many sexual partners and it’s been years since I’ve had a boyfriend, but the last time something like this happened, I stained the sofa cushion of my high school fling. The hollowness that comes with a dry throat and embarrassing memories takes over as I find a thin liner that will have to do for this moment.
I’m sitting there taking care of it all, feeling foolish and wondering if my period is why I’ve been so emotional and tired and down and unable to think right.
“Are you all right?” Jase’s voice comes from outside the bathroom and I prepare to face him.
Opening the door to see him standing there, a small trail of hair leading down and drawing my eyes to the edge of the boxer briefs he slipped on, makes me that much more self-conscious. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” His expression is easy, but the way he bites the edge of his lip and lets his gaze linger makes me feel anything but. “It’s good you got it. We’ve been reckless.”
I hesitate to respond when I look over his shoulder and see he’s changed the sheets.
“Thank you for…” Closing my eyes and swallowing tightly, I fail to say the rest out loud.
“It’s fine. Do you need anything?”
He leans against the doorjamb, not taking his eyes off of me. When he crosses his arms, his muscles become taut and I find myself feeling hot all over again.
I need my something. I need it more than anything.
A hint of worry crosses his expression when I don’t answer him.
“I don’t want to lose what we’re building, Bethany. I don’t want to lose you.”
I couldn’t give two shits about her period.
I couldn’t give two shits about her wanting to leave yesterday.
All I care about right now is pressing my body against hers, ravaging her, hearing those soft sounds slip from her lips. I’m still hard for her, still needing to feel her, to remind her how good it is.
“Strip down… all the way.” With the simple command she stares up at me, her chest rising and falling heavily. Her hair is a messy halo and her hazel eyes are in disarray.
Leaning forward and bending down enough to whisper at the shell of her ear I say, “Don’t make me tell you twice, my fiery girl.”
Her eyes close and her head falls back instinctively. Like the good girl she is, her hands move to the button on her pants just as I unhook her bra through her shirt.
“You make me weak,” she whispers.
“You do the same to me.” No confession has ever felt so sinful to be spoken.
“You want to know why I want you?” I ask her, watching her undress and then stepping out of my boxer briefs to stroke my cock. “I can’t get those little sounds you make out of my mind. They’re addictive.”
Her pale skin turns a bright red, flushing from her chest up to the temples of her hairline.
“You’re beautiful, you’re innocent in ways I find challenging, and a fighter in ways I respect.” I’ve never thought about it like this before. I’ve never considered the specifics, and the statement forms itself as I take her nipple between my fingers and pull gently to direct her to the shower.
With a twist of the faucet and then the splash of hot water, steam billows toward us.