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But then he moaned softly—desperately—and leaned in to nuzzle against my neck again, right near my ear.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been hoping you’d say that.”
Desire rippled through me as his hands skated around my hips again, squeezing me tight. I was hard now, because of course I was. “I’ve been wanting that, too.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” he murmured, stopping to press a kiss to my neck, “I want everything with you. That includes me, um, fucking you, and you fucking me, too. But tonight…”
Lord. Even the way he got all nervous saying it was a turn-on for me. It was a topic I’d barely even let myself think about, because I never wanted to get too hopeful about things that weren’t promised. But the fact that Jax was willing to do both was just more confirmation that he was rapidly becoming my favorite person.
He was open. Open to anything he wanted—and apparently, miraculously, that included me.
“Tonight you want to get fucked?” I said, in that teasing voice I knew he loved.
He groaned. “You just like hearing me say it, don’t you?”
I caught his lower lip between my teeth. “Maybe I do.”
“Then let’s go. Fuck me, already.”
12
JAX
Clearly I’d lost my mind, because whatever part of me thought I’d somehow be able to show Charlie a good time in the bedroom was grade-A delusional. My mouth had written a check that I now had to cash, and even though there was nothing I’d rather do than make him happy, I suddenly had no idea how the earthly fuck to do that.
His whole bed smelled like him—clean and fresh and like his skin—which was the first step toward making me weak as fuck and turning me into a useless puddle of pure want. It was like my first time all over again. Scratch that—it was way, way more intimidating, and a billion times better, all at once. The first time I’d had sex, I hadn’t been nervous at all. Curious, maybe, and certainly down for the fun, with a nice girl I’d dated briefly right at the beginning of my freshman year of college. I had never gone into it with any sense of worry about a damned thing.
But of course, tonight, the moment Charlie pulled me into his bedroom and stripped both of us naked, I started to positively fucking vibrate with nerves.
We were in a tangled mess beneath his sheets, his skin hot on mine. He hadn’t bothered to turn on a light but I could see all of him from the glow that shined in through the windows. That was when I first felt the kick in my chest. All night, I’d been so good. I’d been the one with boundless confidence. But seeing this man—this sexy, tattooed, badass, kind, and hilarious man who I’d come to care about more than I knew possible—seeing him become free for the first time in my memory, was a gift so good I wanted to live up to it in every way possible.
I wanted to be everything for him.
I knew it wasn’t realistic. But I was going to do my goddamned best to try.
He ran his tongue along my nipple and it made me inhale sharply. Every nerve ending on my body felt so much more sensitive than usual, especially my cock, which was so hard I was starting to think it might cause a problem.
“First step,” he said as he reached over to grab something from his nightstand, “is this.”
He held out a little purple rubber toy and a bottle of lube, and my cock jumped at the sight of it.
“Is… is that a dildo?” I asked, and he smirked.
“Sort of. It’s to help get me loose enough to take your cock. You can use this, your fingers, or both, and I would love any of those things.”
“Suddenly feeling like I’m in a classroom,” I murmured, grabbing the toy from him and sitting up on my knees.
“Sorry,” he said. “Figured you might want a little guidance, but you can feel free to do whatever you want to me, to be honest.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “I meant it in a good way. The classroom thing. It’s kind of hot.”
“Oh,” he said, his eyelids dropping a little as he realized that I was only more turned on with every passing second we’d been in this bed. “Here. Give it a try, then.”
I slicked up the toy with lube, and the idea of getting to put this inside of him was already making me light up with anticipation. He slid onto his stomach in bed, his ass facing upward.
“I love this,” I said, tracing a finger along one of his tattoos that branched along his hipbone and up his side, the outlines of multiple birds’ wings.
“I like them, too,” he said softly. “That tattoo was one of my first ones.”
