Page 74 of Strictly Against Policy

I watched the way he pumped his tip with a brisk and snug grasp. When the motion of his hand slipped down to the base of his shaft, I dipped my index and middle fingers into myself. Simulating the movements of him fucking me instead.

We groaned together.

I slid in another finger effortlessly, needing more. More of a stretch. More girth to fill me up and thrust me over the edge of another withering release. More of Jonathan. I wanted him to destroy me and glue me back together. Again and again, like we always did with our words, and now our bodies.

His breath shook as he watched me fuck myself with three fingers. The hand he gripped tightly around his shaft moved at an accelerated, blistering speed. My fingers moved in the same rapid, aching motion. The way I was fucking myself mirrored the way he jerked himself off.

We were one and the same.

Fire and fire.

Lina Lee and Jonathan Lo.

We came together.

Ribbons of his release spurted out and across the bed as my climax gushed and poured out onto the bedsheets and mattress, soaking it. I continued to heave and tremble with pleasure as I uncoiled my fingers and pulled them out of my core.

A torrent of my arousal coursed out with the removal of my hand, and Jonathan groaned, deep and gruff, until my bed frame shook. He inched back to me and dove into my core, consuming and drinking from my fountain with these long and deep voracious licks. His eyes never left mine as we watched one another and the fire that raged and surged within each of our souls.

When I climaxed again, I didn’t take my eyes off his. We continued to hold one another’s gaze even as I rode out my high on his tongue. We didn’t pull away from our silent hold on each other until our lips met. We kissed and kissed until the taste of my sex blended into his and our sweat cooled down into a tacky, uncomfortable film across our skin.

We giggled into each other’s mouths when Jonathan flinched at the touch of my cold toes against his calves. He gave me another peck before hauling himself away with a disapproving grunt.

“We should shower again and change your bedsheets,” he said. His fingers gently held my jaw. “Then, have dinner and sleep.”

I blinked. “You’re sleeping here?”

A flush seared red across his face and down his neck to his chest. “S-sorry, should I leave⁠—”

“No!” I immediately interrupted him. “Stay, please. I’m sorry for asking that. It’s just . . . I thought you didn’t want to stay over since you were worried we might have sex last time.”

I had asked Jonathan to stay with me last Friday, but he had declined, saying he didn’t want us to move too fast. I wouldn’t have minded it if we did. I knew I wouldn’t regret it. This was all with him after all, and I trusted him the same way he trusted me.

Jonathan kissed my forehead and pulled me into a tight hug. “No sex tonight. But I want to stay and wake up tomorrow with your scent on my skin.”

My cheeks flared as I buried my face deeper into the crook of his neck. “Me too.”

CHAPTER 31

Jonathan

Something was burning. Fast. That acrid, bitter scent of food on fire was so strong I could almost taste it on my tongue. A tiny plume from the stove indicated which food was burning. The eggs.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

I grabbed the frying pan and pulled it off the stove as the smoke detector triggered, announcing and blaring to all of Lina’s neighbors that I was about to burn down her townhouse.

“What happened?” I heard her voice before she graced me with her presence.

Her hair was styled with curls. The makeup she wore was simple but still accentuated her big, round, hooded eyes and long lashes, and her pouty lips were shiny with gloss.

“Sorry, I burned the eggs,” I admitted with red cheeks, turning on the overhead fan to get rid of the smoke. I quickly leaned over the sink and opened the small kitchen window.

Lina pulled a step stool from thin air and started fanning the deafening smoke alarm with a store catalog. We glanced at each other for a moment as embarrassment scorched across my face, hotter than the eggs I just burned. So much for a hearty breakfast on a Saturday morning.

“Sorry about that.” I glanced at the steel pan of burnt eggs. “Looks like I’ll have to order something for us for breakfast.”

The alarm stopped, and Lina stepped down from her stool. She stood in front of me, taking in the disaster I’d made of her kitchen. There were cracked eggshells in a bowl solely designated for trash and scraps of food. Chopped red and yellow bell peppers were on the cutting board, ready for an omelet that would never be. The baby bella mushrooms hadn’t been opened yet, thankfully. Meanwhile, the stench of burning eggs still clung to the air, thick and heavy.