“I don’t know,” was all I could give him, because I had no idea how I was going to process any of this. “I think I’m in shock.”
Am I in shock?
His compassionate gaze met mine for a second in the mirror, and it made me feel a hundred emotions I couldn’t put a finger on.
“See you in bed.”
Back in the bedroom, the air was cooler, the sheets rumpled where we’d been. Jesse pulled the quilt up to his waist before rolling onto his side. I followed, wincing when I lay a little too heavy on my bad hip. The moment I settled, he reached out, his hand finding the pain, fingers curling into the flesh there.
“What happened?”
“My back?” No details, make it light, I’d had enough trauma dumping to process without adding my shitty time on the street to the mix. “I got into it on a corner with some other kids on the street who didn’t want me there, landed badly, is all. It was infected, didn’t heal quite right, aches when I forget to take my muscle relaxants.”
He kissed me there. “I’m sorry,” he said, then kissed me again.
His touch was warm, and when he traced slow circles over my hip, my breath hitched. I owed him more than that, but where would I begin?
“You’re thinking too loud,” he muttered, his voice rough.
I let out a quiet laugh, my hand finding his wrist. “Am I?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, his fingers slid upward, over the dip of my waist, the ridge of my ribs, until his palm was flat to my chest. My heartbeat thudded under his touch, steady but too fast. His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I sucked in a sharp breath, my back arching into the contact.
“Jesse—”
“Shhh.” His voice was a low growl, his breath hot on my collarbone as he leaned in. The scruff on his jaw scratched my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. His lips pressed there, open-mouthed and wet, and when he bit down—just enough to sting—I gasped, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He made a sound, something between a groan and a laugh, and then, his mouth was on mine. Not gentle. Not hesitant. His tongue pushed past my lips, hot and demanding, and I melted into it, into him, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders. He was solid under my palms, all lean muscle and heat, and when I rolled him onto his back, he went willingly, his thighs falling open to make room for me.
I was glad for the lamp’s light because I needed to watch the way his chest rose and fell, the way his pupils blew wide when I rocked my hips against his, the hard ridge of his cock trapped between us. I leaned down, pressing my mouth to the scar, then lower, to the pulse point beneath his jaw.
He made a noise, low and broken, and his fingers dug in deeper. I ground down, the friction making my cock ache, and he groaned, his hips jerking up. “Fuck, Lucas?—”
I sat back, straddling his thighs, and reached for the lube and condoms in the nightstand. His eyes followed mymovements, dark and hungry, his chest rising and falling faster now. His cock was hard, leaking at the tip, and I wrapped my hand around it, stroking slow and firm. His head fell back to the pillow, his throat working as he swallowed.
“You’re gonna kill me.”
“Not yet,” I smirked, leaning down to press a kiss to the head of his cock before sitting back on my heels. His hips twitched as I guided him closer, his fingers sliding between us to help, slow and patient, stretching me with care while we both breathed through it, using far too much slick, but neither of us complained.
I lined us up and sank onto him slowly, breath shuddering out of me as he filled me inch by inch. “Fuck—” I gasped, bracing a hand on his chest, forcing myself to keep the pace slow while my body adjusted.
“Easy,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his hands flexing where I held them. “Easy, sweetheart.”
Heat flared low in my belly. I rolled my hips with care, just enough to make us both groan, then sat fully, the stretch turning sharp before it melted into something deep and electric. His cock was thick inside me,exactlywhere I needed him, and the sound he made—rough, helpless—went straight through me.
“Move,” he said, teeth clenched. “Lucas—please.”
I did. I set a slow rhythm he helped me with, lifting and sinking down on him, slow at first, then deeper, the slide of skin on skin making my head spin. His hands came free, holding me, avoiding holding my hips, guiding me without taking control, and every time I dropped, I felt him hit just right.
My cock leaked between us, ignored except for the occasional brush of his stomach. I leaned forward, palms flat on his chest, watching his face fall apart as I rode him.
“Look at you,” he breathed. “Fuck—look at you.”
His eyes locked onto mine, and something cracked open between us. I rocked repeatedly, pleasure coiling, relentless.
I came first, spilling over his stomach with a broken sound, my body clenching hard around him. The way I tightened sent him over the edge seconds later, his thrusts turning wild and shallow as he groaned my name, emptying himself deep inside me.
We collapsed together, me sprawled over his chest, both of us shaking, the sheets damp and tangled beneath us. Jesse’s heart hammered against my ear, his fingers tracing slow, lazy lines up my spine.
