Page 100 of Wait for Him

He drops me onto my back on the bed and follows me down, caging me in beneath him.

And I let him.

That realization should probably scare me more than it does. Jackson is the only man I've ever allowed to command my body like this. I'm never willing to be on the bottom, pinned beneath someone else's weight with my choices narrowed down by strength that isn't mine. I have spent too many years making sure I decide exactly what happens to my body and when.

Even on our first night together, I felt safe beneath him.

He rips the neck of my camisole down and takes my nipple into his mouth, and when his teeth pull, it sends a sharp rush of pain through me that bows my back off the mattress.

"I need you." It comes out barely above a whisper as I fist my hand in his hair. "Please."

"You've got me, Rose. All of me."

"Kiss me."

His blue eyes glint with something wicked. "With fucking pleasure."

And then he slides down, pushing my thighs apart with those big hands, settling my legs over his shoulders.

I smile because he knew what I meant.

The anticipation alone has my body responding before he's even done anything. Every nerve feels exposed and tuned directly to him.

His breath ghosts over me as he presses a small kiss to my lips. My hips lift on their own. "Your pussy is fucking perfect, Rosalie."

He drags his tongue over my entrance, eyes fixed on mine, rolling from my slit to my clit so agonizingly slowly that I could scream. “Dripping for me. Fuck, I love this piercing.” He growls.

Then he devours me. Licking, sucking, tugging the barbell, moaning against me like I'm his favorite dessert and he's been starved for a decade. I reach for his hair, fingers sinking into the cropped blond mass, needing something to hold onto.

His hands catch my wrists and press them into the mattress.

I struggle against his grip, testing his resolve, and it's utterly futile. He doesn't even pause, doesn't lift his mouth from me, just tightens his hold and keeps working me over while fire dances in his eyes, daring me to try again.

God.

I'm not a switch. I have never in my life wanted to be underneath, held down, commanded. But pinned to this bed with his mouth on me and his hands shackling my wrists, I don't feel trapped. The desire to submit to him overwhelms me in a way I’d never have expected and it lights me on fire.

I’m strung so tight my muscles burn as I struggle to breathe.

“You’re so close, baby. Come for me.”

All at once, it explodes, a cascade of pleasure rolling down my spine and rippling through me.

"Fuck—" The release pulls a broken sound from my lungs as endless spasms rack my body. Jackson draws it out, wringing everything from me until the last aftershock has passed.

"You taste so fucking amazing when you come." He swipes his tongue over my center one last time, tugging the barbell just to watch me jolt, then crawls back up the bed and settles on his forearms above me.

“Hi, baby.” He leans down and kisses my chin, then my lips, softer now, and something about the sudden tenderness after everything that just happened makes my chest squeeze. His eyes move over my face like he’s checking that I’m still here, still with him. “I’m not done with you. I just need to look at you for a minute.”

I smile before I can stop myself. “Hi.”

His grin spreads, stupid and beautiful and so completely Jackson that for a second I forget every reason this should be complicated.

“There she is.”

“You’re staring.”

“Yeah. I am.”