I nod without speaking, because I’m afraid if I do, I’d give myself away. I’d open myself up for judgment over how ridiculous I’ve been dreaming about Jase all these years.
But then again, he said he’s been dreaming of me, too.
He looks down my body from his perch on top of me and stares at the space between us. My gaze follows his to see the round head of his cock nudging my entrance.
The heat between us rises a thousand degrees and I wrap my arm around his broad shoulders, delighting in the sensation of his muscles flexing under my touch.
And then he pushes in with a hoarse roar, his arms straining at our sides and his torso lifting in a cobra position. He opens his eyes and they bore into me with such intensity that I have to close mine to keep the tears at bay.
“Look at me, Cecelia. I want you to watch me fuck you. I need you to tell me if it’s what you’ve always imagined it would be.”
I suck in another breath, opening my eyes to see his beautiful, taut body move into mine. Connecting in ways that feel dangerously good. His thrusts are slow and calculated, but I want more. I want it hard and fast.
I dig my nails into his shoulder blades. “Faster.”
His head drops with a guttural sound from his chest. He moves a hand underneath my leg and pulls it up so my knee is near my armpit, giving him leverage and offering him room to move.
“Is this what you want, little girl?”
“Oh my God, yes!”
There’s such a distinct difference between the soft bed underneath my back and the hard, hot body on top of me. I moan loudly as his length sinks into me deeper, hitting a spot never before touched.
I clasp my grip tighter into his backside, skimming down his back to find purchase at his ass. When I dig my nails into his taut, hard buns, he grunts out a pure masculine response.
My body is on the verge of something big, my skin vibrating with need and desire swelling up inside me. The drag of Jases’s cock inside of me, the fullness of him, has me clenching my thighs tighter as I climb higher and higher, ready to jump off that steep ledge and into the pool of pleasure.
The next time he rocks against me, he rotates his hips in the sexiest move I’ve ever seen, as he bottoms out and hits the spot that sends me shooting toward the stars. I still my hips as the orgasm rips through me, heels digging into his powerful thighs, my head thrown back against the pillow. The throbbing ache between my legs erupts with wave after wave of joyous ecstasy.
I shatter beautifully. The first orgasm I’ve ever had with a man.
With the boy I’ve dreamed about since I was a girl.
And let me tell you, Jase Lathrop in real life is a thousand times better than any of my teenage fantasies.
Opening my eyes again, the rush and static in my ears slowly subsiding, I see the cords of his neck straining with tension, as he pants out non-sensical words. Jase continues pounding into me with rapid, shallow thrusts, each one sending aftershocks of my orgasm rippling through my body.
And then he goes still – as if the world has stopped rotating - his breath caught within his lungs until he trembles and releases with a loud, hot masculine noise.
Jase drops down to his side, pulling out of me as he does. A lazy, satisfied smile plays across his lips and I find myself tracing my finger over the curve. He playfully bites my finger.
I shriek with delight, pulling my finger away with a giggle. But he’s quick and grabs at it, returning it to his lips where he kisses the pad and sucks it into his wet mouth, his tongue licking and lapping at it sensually.
Oh God, I am so whipped over Jase.
This probably means nothing more to him than just a quick holiday fuck. A convenient hookup while he’s on leave. He’s eaten his fill of turkey and dressing, and I’m just the second helping of dessert before he hits the road.
Without a word, Jase gets up and heads to the adjoining bathroom as I scramble to get out of my head and get dressed as fast as I can. I’m dressed and bouncing my knee nervously by the time Jase returns to find me sitting on the edge of the bed.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he dresses and then he gets down on his hands and knees and riffles under the bed. When he gets back up, he has something in his hand.
Curious as to what he’s holding, I pull the photo from his fingers and curse myself for ever keeping this in my memories box.
My excuse is a lame cover-up, as I stammer to find a perfectly good explanation. “It was just puppy love. A dumb crush on my older brother’s best friend.”
I try to keep the truth from slipping through my shaky voice. But it doesn’t work. I’ve never been a good liar and Jase sees right through it.
He yanks the photo from my grasp and waves it in front of me. “Really? So how you felt about this kid in the picture means nothing to you now?”
