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My chest rises and falls as I struggle to get enough air. I cup my breasts, my eyes flicking down to his sandy head between my legs. His fingers dig roughly into my thighs, so much so that it hurts, but I still don’t want him to lessen his grip. If he does I’m afraid I might float away.
The stubble on his cheeks grazes my sensitive skin, and I shiver.
He plunges two fingers into me while still sucking on my clit, and I cry out immediately as I orgasm. My whole body shakes, and when I finish, I feel loose and languid. I can barely keep my eyes open but I manage to do it and watch as he reaches behind him, hooking his thumbs into the back of his shirt and pulling it off. He tosses it behind him and makes quick work of his jeans.
He steps back up to the table and loops his arms around my legs, pulling me to the edge of the table so I’m half hanging off and he’s supporting my weight.
He plunges inside me in one hard thrust.
“Oh, my God,” I cry out, reaching up so my fingers scratch his abs.
He bends and captures my lips with his. He sucks on my bottom lip and lets it go with a pop. It feels slightly puffy and I’m sure it’ll stay that way most of the day—a constant reminder of this moment.
A moment that will now play out in my mind every time I look at this table.
He peppers kisses all along my neck and chest, paying special attention to my breasts.
My fingers delve into his hair, tugging on the short strands. He hisses between his teeth and I smile in satisfaction.
It causes him to retaliate by biting my shoulder. I yelp and he chuckles, soothing the bite with a lick of his tongue and then a tender kiss.
He glances down, watching where we’re joined and I plead, “Fuck me harder.”
His eyes jolt to mine, the green all but completely leeched from them. Instead, they’re twin, dark orbs, like he’s become some other creature all together.
He holds my hips steady and obeys my command—which is a miracle, because normally he does the opposite of my pleas, but he must need this as much as I do.
He fucks me desperately, like he’s about to lose me.
I cry out as I come a second time and then he’s coming too, groaning as he finds his release. The desperate, almost pained sounds he makes are enough to make me orgasm again. Something about watching and hearing him lose control always turns me on.
Our bodies are pressed together, damp with sweat. He rests his head on my chest, his ear pressed to the spot where my heart beats.
“That was fucking amazing,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Yeah,” I say, lazily running my fingers through the longer strands of hair by his forehead. I can barely think, let alone form a sentence.
Minutes pass and once we’ve both caught our breath he pulls away and helps me off the table.
His eyes roam over me from head to toe, and I squeal when he sweeps me into his arms.
“Jace,” I cry out, trying to wiggle out of his arms.
“Shower,” he commands, so I stop fighting.
“Just shower?” I raise a brow.
He grins down at me, suddenly looking very boyish and much younger. “I’ll be a good boy.”
“Mhmm,” I hum. “I’ve heard that one before.”
He sets me down when we reach the bathroom and closes the door before turning on the shower.
“In,” he commands.
“You’re so bossy,” I grumble.
“You fucking love it when I’m bossy,” he reasons. He has a point there.
