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23
Sex & Stardust
Juliana
Mywordscomeout on breathless whimpers, but when I feel Jay shifting beneath me to retreat, I panic. My hand snaps to grab him by the wrist and keep him in place. My head tilts slightly to turn and meet his gaze while I lie limply in his lap. All I see is hesitancy.
He thinks I want him to stop? Fuck no.
There isn’t enough air in my lungs, and my thoughts are too scrambled to get out real words.
“Two,” I force.
I feel him shift out from underneath me before his weight settles on top of me and his lips crash into my own. The single word seems to erase whatever hesitancy I saw in his eyes because all that remains is a flame, like an out of control bonfire. I know Jay is a passionate partner, but how he touches me sets off every nerve in my body. Everything is so sensitive, yet all of me is screaming for more.
“You stop counting, I stop. Say red, I stop. Got it?” he says.
“Yes, sir.” And if that doesn’t drive the flames higher. “Green. Twelve. I don’t care. More.” With any other person, the whine in my voice would be humiliating, but with Jay, it simply is. There is no judgment between us, so I relax into our roles.
“What I’m hearing is you want to know what it’s like to be drenched on my fingers. You want me to feast on your pussy and scream my name while you come. Am I right, baby doll?”
God, I want that so badly. I love how he can’t keep his hands off of me. How his touch seems to cherish every inch of me. The same flame in his eyes rumbles in his voice when he talks to me like this. But it’s the way he caresses me that feels nothing short of nirvana.
He waits for an answer, but I don’t know what to give him. I want everything.
“All of it. Everything. Please, sir.”
“I love it when you use that name for me. The way you plead for me.” He’s standing to the side of the bed, and his hands make their way to the waistband of my pants. “I’m going to make you beg for me. Then you’ll beg for mercy.”
Darkness lingers in his words, and it’s sexy as hell.
How have I never had this before with him? There was once, years ago, but it was nothing like this. I don’t have time to think because his thumbs dip under the band and drag the sweatpants down.
Other than the few items Ash got for me, I’d been lucky to be able to mostly borrow clothes while I’d been here. They aren’t anything special, but Jay makes the worn-out extras feel like the most drool-worthy lingerie.
I lift my hips slightly as he pulls them down before climbing back onto the bed. When he leans me forward and reaches for the hem of my shirt again, I hesitate. Without thinking, I try and move his hands away.
“What?” His concern at my response changes something in him. This isn’t my sexy “sir“. This is my best friend, Jay. The man who worries about me endlessly and whose face displays only concern.
“It’s just…” I feel unsure. Hesitant. I hate it. “I have scars.”
He props me up on my forearms and reaches to pull his own shirt off over his head.
“So what? I have scars too,” he says.
Looking at him bare before me, I marvel at his figure. I reach out to run my fingers over the faint lines on his chest.
“Yeah, but you chose those. I…” I fiddle with the edge of my shirt. I already miss the pure lust of only moments ago. “I didn’t.”
“Look at me.” He moves me so we’re fully facing each other. Our bodies closely press together as he holds himself above me. “I didn’t choose my scars any more than you did. They came about differently, but I didn’t choose them.” I instinctively try to look away and break eye contact, but he reaches and pulls my attention directly to his gaze.
He searches my face for a moment.
“Scars tell a part of our story. Nothing more. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
My hands trace over the faint lines upon his chest, his own story lines. My gaze wanders his body while I chew on his words. My thoughts drift along with it.
“I know that look, and whatever you may be thinking, you’re wrong.” I look up at the forceful snap in his tone. “I once counted and kissed every stretch mark on your body. When we first opened the club, I dragged you to the hospital because you stopped eating. I held you every time you came home from a date with another fatphobic asshole. Do you really think a few new scars are going to change how I see you?”
