I slip inside, closing the door behind me. For a second, I just stand there, heart pounding too fast, my hands curled in my sweater. The silence feels thicker than it should.
Before I can think about it, I pull the door open again.
He’s still there. He hasn’t moved an inch.
The next second, I’m grabbing his coat and pulling him inside, the door clicking shut behind him. Our lips crash together, all heat and urgency, months of tension igniting at once.
His hands are in my hair, mine fisted in the front of his sweater. We’re both unrestrained, hungry, like the dam has finally broken open.
When he backs me toward the bed, I don’t let go. Not even for air. We scramble in a mess of hurried limbs to throw our coats off. His warm hands slip up my legs, moving their way under my dress. He grips my ass firmly and I moan into his neck. I push my hands under his sweater, and he hisses at the touch.
“Take it off.” I whisper to him between kisses.
He reaches back with one hand and pulls the sweater up and over his head, his lips finding mine as soon as he’s free. His hands grab my sweater again and starts to drag it up my body, I lift my arms and let him tug it off.
He holds my gaze as he unzips my boots. Lowering himself to the floor he grabs the band of my tights, slowly peeling them from my skin.
His heated gaze falls on the matching lace set I’m wearing.
Jace pushes me onto the bed, pulling the rest of my tights off. He stands up and looms over me. His chest rising and falling heavily as his eyes roam over the lace on my body.
“Jace, please,” I whisper and his eyes snap up to mine.
“Please, what?” His voice is rough.
“I just need to feel something. Make me feel good.”
When he lays me back against the bed, he doesn’t rush. His hands trace over my shoulders, my ribs, my waist, like I’m something precious. His mouth follows—pressing kisses over old scars, lingering over the curve of my stomach, the dip of my hip.
“Don’t play games with me, Isobel.” He says huskily into my ear, then presses his fingers against me, feeling my wetness through my panties, the heel of his hand giving my clit delicious pressure. I gasp.
“So wet.” He pants as he moves my panties to the side.
I moan his name as he pushes two fingers inside me. My hips roll against his hand. He pumps in and out of my body with a steady rhythm. Beforelong, I’m toppling over the edge. Crying out into his mouth as he continues to give me pleasure.
“I love watching you come for me.” He smirks.
He kneels back, and I follow. I reach for his pants, seeing the strain of his cock behind them. He stops my hand before I can touch him.
“Are you sure?” Jace’s voice is low and rough, filled with restraint.
“Yes,” I breathe, looking up at him.
His eyes search mine, then he lets my hand go. My hands scramble to undo his pants and he pushes them off, hastily throwing them to the floor. He lays back on the bed, propped up on his elbows, and I let my eyes run over his body.
Every muscle cut to perfection, his hand wrapped around his cock, hard and waiting. I lean over, tracing his abs with my tongue. Fisting him in my hand. Jace inhales sharply as I start to move my hand up and down. Then I lower myself, running my tongue over the smooth head.
His head drops back, a raw groan ripping from his throat as my mouth wraps around him—tantalizingly slow, I take my time, dragging my tongue along the underside, teasing the tip, learning the sounds he makes when I suck a little harder, go a little deeper. One hand cradles my head.
“Shit, Iz,” he gasps, hand clasping the bedsheets beside him as I work him with my mouth, my hand, my everything.
I don’t stop until he’s shaking.
Until he pulls me up, breathless and wrecked and wild.
His mouth crashes into mine again, tasting himself on my lips, and he moans into the kiss.
His lips trace down the side of my neck, each brush of his mouth making it harder to think. My fingers curl in his hair. The head of his dick rubs against my throbbing clit, and the pressure is perfect. I moan. I start to move against him, coating him in my arousal. So close, but never entering. It feels too good.
