Page 86 of Jesse's Girl
He drops his head, grazing his forehead against mine.
“Fuck me,” I say.
A rush of air leaves his lungs. “Holy shit.”
“Fuck me,” I whisper again, brushing my cheek against his. His beard prickles against my skin. “Fuck me and it doesn’t leave this apartment. We don’t tell anyone. We’re just… scratching an itch, okay?” I swallow, knowing it’s half a lie; this runs deeper than either of us can admit. But Jesse needs to know this is temporary. The muscles in my core pulse at the realization that I’ve laid it out—laid myself out for him to take. Cards on the table, he’d said. I’m telling him exactly what I want. Well, mostly.
This is what I want, I tell myself. Just a physical thing. This is the part I’m good at.
“We’re two consenting adults and it’s just sex,” I say. “Understand?”
Something shifts in him as he lifts his hands to cradle my face. His expression darkens, his pupils blown by desire and the dim light. He takes a long breath before he nods.
“Good,” I say.
“It’s about to be,” he rasps, and his mouth meets mine hard.
My whimper of relief is only silenced by the hot crush of his lips. As our tongues tangle, I claw at his back and hips, desperate and needy. Finally touching him like this—like I’ve wanted to for weeks—is lighting me up in ways that threaten to undo me altogether, my every nerve ending firing at once. I want to consume him. Be consumed by him.
Fuck, forbidden fruit tastes so good.
“Oh, God, Ada,” he groans, the words muffled against my lips, my cheek, my neck, my lips again. “I’ve wanted you so bad. So fucking bad.”
“I know,” I say through a pained smile. “Me too.”
I slide my hands under the back of his shirt, raking my fingernails over his skin, and delight in the growl that escapes his throat.
He sinks into the kiss, his tongue sweeping against mine, twisting and drawing mine into its warmth. He grips my jaw, tugging it down so I can take more of him.
Oh, fuck, yes.
I’m sinking, drowning in the weight of this. Of him. The crushing heat of muscle and skin and need. Fire licks up my spine, meeting Jesse’s fingertips at the nape of my neck.
“Ada… let me see you.” He nips my lower lip as he lifts the hem of my sweatshirt. His fingers on my bare waist draw a pulsing heat to my core. He yanks my sweatshirt over my head, his chest heaving. When he unhooks my bra and lets it drop to the floor, desire flares in his eyes. “Jesus,” he says as he palms both my breasts, his thumbs working my nipples into tight peaks. “You’re gorgeous.”
As he claims my mouth once more, all I can think about is how badly I’ve wanted this. How ready I am. How he’s wearing too many clothes.
I tear at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. “Take this off,” I bite out.
“Bossy,” he says with a lazy grin before reaching up to the back of his neck and hauling his T-shirt over his head. His glorious chest now bare, he pushes against me again, letting out a harsh exhale. The heat of his skin against my breasts makes me ache to feel all of him.
“Jesse,” I manage to say, then flick my tongue against his. “I want you inside me.”
His inhale is sharp as his hips press forward, the steel heat of his cock grinding into my stomach. “Fuck. Are you sure?” He trails kisses along my neck, then pulls back to meet my gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.
I nod rapidly. “I’m sure.”
“You better be.” He dips his head to my neck again, scraping his teeth against my hammering pulse, while his fingers gently pinch and roll over my taut nipples. “’Cause fuck… I want to. So fucking much. Can’t stop thinking about this.”
“Mmhmm,” I hum, tracing the waistband of his jeans with my fingertips.
He shivers as he reaches a hand to cup my face, looking almost tortured, and brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Ada. This is a line we can’t uncross.”
“Cross it.”
That last gasp of restraint evaporates when I drag my hand up between us, rubbing it against his rock-hard erection, and he moans.
He moans.