25. Owned - Jules
Tears burn my eyes. Two blinks send them splashing onto my cheeks. Mortified, I hold my breath and try to hide this utterly female moment from him. He’s still got hold of one of my hands, but the other is tangled in my hair as he rests his head on my chest. We’re covered in sweat, breathing hard, and the result of our fervent tumble into bed is coating the inside of my thighs.
And my belly, because he pulled out as he came in a tide of torment, my name a plea for mercy on his lips.
We’re a mess, but I don’t give a shit. I’d lie here with him forever, if only I could control this surge of emotion brought on from having my first orgasm during sex. Thirty seconds doesn’t pass before he notices the stillness of my chest, no longer rising and falling beneath him. He lifts his head, and the deep storm in his eyes grabs me by the soul.
God, this man. I feel too much for him, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.
He untangles his fingers from my hair and brushes the tears from my cheeks. Then he kisses me, slow and deep until I’m moaning into his mouth.
“It’s okay,” he says, breaking our kiss. His breath stutters across my skin as he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the center of my neck, all the way to my collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere, Jules.”
He didn’t need to ask about the tears. Somehow, he already knew. It’s enough to open the floodgates all the way. Turning us onto our sides, he gathers me in his arms, one palm at the small of my back, and the other holding my head.
And he lets me cry it out.
All the guilt and shame.
All the love in my soul for this man who isn’t free to be mine.
Everything I’m feeling courses down my face, trembles in my limbs, and flares to life again between my thighs. I cling to him as if he’ll disappear.
He tucks my leg between his and dips his head, coaxing me into another kiss.
Jesus, he knows how to use his tongue. Earlier, he reduced me to an incoherent puddle of lust when he teased me through my panties, and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth on me with no barriers.
Tugging on my hair, he tilts my head back and scrapes his teeth down my throat. “I already want you again. Once isn’t enough.”
He’s rock hard against my thigh, just as ready as I am to go again. I don’t think we’ll ever stop wanting each other.
“Take a shower with me?” he asks.
I nod, and he slips from bed before pulling me to my feet. The door to my bathroom stands open, and he leads me in that direction. As soon as we step onto the cool tile, he brings his mouth down on mine and walks me backward into the shower stall. Never severing our kiss, he pushes me against the wall then flips on the spray.
His cock presses into my belly, and I’m curious how it would feel in my hand. Reaching between us, I wrap my fingers around his shaft and caress the velvety smooth tip with my thumb.
“Jesus,” he says, voice strangled as he braces himself against the wall. “Don’t ever stop touching me.”
His vulnerability empowers me, gives me an addictive taste of confidence. I lower to my knees and trail my free hand down his abs while I stroke his cock. Eye to eye with his erection, I lick my lips as his need for me collects at the tip. I don’t care that I’m still wearing his cum, that taking him in my mouth is poking at one of my biggest insecurities. I just fucking need to taste him.
I lift my chin and meet his metallic eyes. “Will you show me how you like it?”
He grabs the back of my head, and water sprays over us, sending tear-like drops cascading down my face. My pulse flutters in my throat as we stare at each other. Several moments pass before he thrusts his hips forward and pushes the soft head of his cock against my lips. As I open for him, I splay a hand on his stomach.
With a groan, he slides in, and his shaft is warm and smooth and thick, and my lips stretch wide around him. Stroking his base with my fingers, I flatten my tongue and let him take the lead. Let his continuous moans guide me.
He shoves deeper, his hand at the back of my head keeping me in place, and even though he’s moaning how good it feels, my old fears roar through me.
Am I scraping him with my teeth? That was one of Chris’ biggest complaints, and he wasn’t as big as Cash. My limbs seize up, and I close my eyes as all of my insecurities stampede through my mind.
He fists a hand in my hair. “Open your eyes, Jules.”
The command in his voice draws my lids up, and I’m met with the image of a man on the verge of coming undone. Chest rising and falling fast, he pistons in and out of my mouth with increasing speed. The whole time, he traps me in his grasp, immobilizing me.
Rendering me helpless to do anything but let him take his pleasure.
To let him fuck my mouth.
I feel used and adored all at once. Powerful and vulnerable and more sexual than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“Jules,” he says as a shudder travels through him. “Touch yourself.”
I dip my hand between my thighs. He’s taken control of my mouth, leaving me free to focus on rubbing myself to climax. Stroking my clit with my middle finger, I keep pace to his thrusts, and every inch of my skin flushes. I moan in abandon, my impending orgasm vibrating off my lips and around his shaft.
“Don’t come.”
Questioning him doesn’t occur to me. I halt my fingers before the tension building inside me has a chance to gush free.
“The next time you come,” he chokes out, shoving the tip of his cock between my tonsils until I’m gagging, “it’s gonna be on my tongue.” He comes in a torrent of grunts and groans, and there’s nothing polite about the way he’s holding me to him while he empties down my throat.
It’s raw and dirty and sexy-as-fuck.
He didn’t just show me how he likes it.
Didn’t just take the lead.
He fucking owned me.