“God,” he breathes as I wrap my fingers around him. His eyes are dark with desire, his control visibly fraying.
I run my thumb over the sensitive tip, watching him shudder. “Tomorrow we’re heading into what could be the most intense storm system of the trip. “Don’t you think you deserve a little reward first?”
His breath catches audibly as I stroke him slowly, learning the feel of him. He’s thicker than I expected, and the way his stomach muscles clench beneath my touch sends heat pooling low in my belly.
“Lila—” My name sounds like a prayer on his lips. His hand hovers near my hair, not quite touching. “You don’t have to?—”
“I know I don’t have to,” I interrupt. “I want to.”
I lean forward and lick the length of him, savoring the sharp intake of breath it produces. His fingers finally tangle in my hair, gently guiding me rather than forcing. The restraint is so quintessentially Jonah that it makes me ache.
When I take him into my mouth, his reaction is immediate and intense. His thighs tense beneath my hands, and a groan rumbles from deep in his chest. I work him slowly, deliberately, savoring the power I have over this brilliant, controlled man.
“Oh god,” he breathes, his head falling back against the chair. His fingers remain gentle in my hair despite the tension evident in every line of his body.
I hollow my cheeks, taking him deeper, and his hips buck involuntarily. I smile around him, pleased with his loss of composure.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, sounding genuinely embarrassed by his reaction.
“Don’t you dare apologize,” I say, releasing him just enough to speak. “I want all of you, Professor. Every reaction, every sound, every bit of that tight control slipping away. Tell me what you want,” I demand as I stroke him slowly.
His eyes flutter open, dark with desire. “I want you.”
“That’s vague.” I smile, running my tongue along the sensitive underside. “Be more specific.”
Jonah’s fingers tighten in my hair. “I want you to continue exactly what you’re doing.”
“That’s better.” I take him deeper, pleased when his breathing grows ragged.
His head falls back against the chair, all academic pretense stripped away. This is Jonah unleashed, raw and vulnerable. Beautiful.
I work him slowly, deliberately, savoring each tremor that runs through his body. His control is unravelling thread by thread, and I am mesmerized by the sight.
“Lila,” he gasps, his voice breaking. “I’m close.”
“Don’t stop,” he pleads, when I pause to glance toward the bed.
“I have no intention of stopping.” I return my attention to him, redoubling my efforts.
His fingers gently guide my movements now, all pretense of restraint abandoned.
“God, Lila,” he groans, his entire body tenses. His release hits the back of my throat, and I swallow it all, watching his face contort with pleasure. It’s the most beautiful sight I’ve seen all day.
When the moment passes, he slumps back in the chair, looking utterly wrecked. “Holy shit,” he whispers, the profanity sounding almost foreign in his mouth.
I smile up at him, wiping the corner of my mouth with my thumb. “Was that okay?”
His chest rises and falls rapidly as he regains his composure. “That was...” He shakes his head, seemingly at a loss for words. “I don’t have adequate vocabulary for what that was.”
I climb slowly to my feet with his help, wincing as my injured shoulder protests. Before I can step back, Jonah’s hands find my waist, pulling me onto his lap against his hard cock.
“That was amazing,” he says as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But now it’s your turn.”
“Jonah, you don’t?—”
“Shh.” His finger presses gently against my lips. “Just because I can’t fuck you, doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this, too.”
His hand slides under my shirt, warm palm pressing against my stomach. I shiver at his touch, already anticipating more, but he changes direction, instead moving lower.
