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This connection is… it’s strange and beautiful and toxic.
Isn’t it?
I reach up and mirror him. I hold his jaw, his stubble caressing the pads of my fingers instead of the other way around. I spread my hand wider, until I catch his pulse hammering against my pinkie.
So he’s as into this as me.
“Was I always this self-destructive?” My voice is hoarse from disuse.
He pushes deeper into me, and my eyelids flutter.
His lips brush my ear, and he whispers, “Worse.”
I let out a moan. My nipples are stiff and sensitive, brushing his chest with every motion. My clit is sore. Not that he gives a fuck about that. He shifts and puts his hand on me again, stroking me with a renewed frenzy.
Worse.
It rings in my ears.
I wrap my legs around him and beg him with my eyes to take me faster. I’m holding him away from my face, but suddenly I feel this need to have him touch meeverywhere. I drag him down by his jaw until his lips collide with mine, and only then do I let my hand slip down his throat to his chest.
He kisses me like he’s been dying to do it for ages. I give everything I have into it. The pleasure in my body is rising, threatening to drown me.
And for once, I’d happily go.
He growls. The sound vibrates through his chest and into mine. Two more thrusts, and he slams to a halt inside me. He brings me right up to the edge of the cliff and shoves me over without wasting a moment, and he hisses as my muscles clench around him.
I arch my back and cry out, although I don’t think the noise actually makes it past my lips. He’s swallowing my sound, licking at my mouth with the same fervor he licks at my pussy.
When both of us are spent, he relaxes on top of me. His weight comes down, and I hug him tighter. I expect him to get up, but he keeps kissing me. It’s languid. Easy. I kiss him and feel him in me and I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do to be happy.
Because this seems pretty close.
A knock on the door interrupts us. He pulls back and closes my robe again, drawing up the tie and knotting it at my waist. He grabs sweatpants from his suitcase and drags them up his hips. I drag myself into a sitting position just as he opens the door around the corner.
“I’ll take it in. Thanks.”
I raise my eyebrow at the sudden rattling. Jacob appears with a rolling cart. He’s ordered… something. There are a few platters covered by silver domes, and he stops it at the foot of the bed.
“First time getting room service,” I murmur, crawling toward him. “What did you get?”
“Dessert.” He smiles and unveils what he got. There are five bowls with different flavored ice creams, another few bowls filled with toppings. A can of whipped cream. He removes the other with flourish and reveals a thermos and two mugs.
Without an explanation, he pours the liquid from the thermos into the mugs and stirs it. He squirts whipped cream on top and uses a spoon to speckle it in rainbow sprinkles. He sits beside me and hands me a mug.
“Hot chocolate with all the fixings,” he says, his gaze glued to my face.
I hum. “Interesting choice.”
“It’s raining. You need warming up.”
“The shower did just that, didn’t it? And… the other stuff.”
He shrugs. He’s still watching me like he’s waiting for something, and I have no idea what. It’s unsettling, although I try to brush it off. Maybe we’ve been in this position before? Maybe I’m supposed to be experiencing déjà vu?
I stare at the whipped cream. The mug is warm against my fingers. I take a sip, hoping it won’t scald my tongue, and am instead greeted with the most delicious wash of chocolate at the perfect temperature. I take another sip. The cool whipped cream creates a dichotomy in my mouth I wasn’t expecting. The sprinkles add the slightest crunch.
Unexpectedly, it reminds me of my parents.
