Page 87 of A Little Jaded
I kiss him harder, praying he can feel it. My need. To connect. To feel. To be with someone. Someone who looks at me like a person instead of…dammit, I don’t even know?—
Everett pulls away from me again, shifting and grabbing onto my waist right above my hip bone with his strong hand as he stops me from grinding against him.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“Who are you here with, Raine?”
I blink slowly, refusing to acknowledge the burn behind my eyes.
“I’m not him,” he grits out.
And I can’t tell if he’s angry at me or himself or?—
“I’m. Not. Him,” he repeats.
His words wash over me like water. Hot. Almost scalding. Leaving me raw and vulnerable. But it’s a good burn. An addictive burn. One I want to lose myself in. To wrap myself up in.
“I know,” I whisper. “I know you’re not him.”
“Do you?”
Opening my eyes, I meet his icy blue ones and nod. “I do. Trust me, I do.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?”
“Because I’m terrified of this ending before it even has a chance to begin.”
His eyes fall to my lips, his hand moves away from my hip, and he cradles my face. It only makes me fall faster.
This man. Who is this man? He’s kind and patient and bossy and talented. He’s nothing like Drake and everything I want, which is both terrifying and exhilarating, all wrapped up into one complicated contradiction. And even though I feel like I’m being torn apart, I also feel like I’m being put back together again.
Please put me back together again, Everett.
I lift my chin, silently begging him to put me out of my misery, and by some miracle, he obliges. Shadows dance around us on the flimsy cotton walls as he bends down and kisses me once more. It’s the same slow, soft kiss from moments ago. And I melt even more.
With a soft whimper, I cup his cheeks, letting my legs fall open even wider. Nibbling my bottom lip, he moves his hands lower, pushes my hoodie up, peppering kisses along my jaw and neck, and moves to my bare stomach. I squirm beneath him as the heat of his mouth tattoos every inch when his thumbs hook along the hem of my sweats, and he pushes them down, exposing my most intimate places to him.
“Look around, Raine,” he rasps. “This isn’t a show. This isn’t for anyone but you.”
Me. This is for me.
“Ev…”
My words die in my throat as he kisses my center with the same soft, slow, deliberate movements. Gently, he sweepshis tongue along my slit, moving up to my clit. I jolt on contact, my jaw dropping as I savor the wet heat of his mouth against me.
With a swirl against the bud, he moves his fingers to my entrance and pushes into me. The sweet stretch makes my muscles tremble as I fist the blankets engulfing us.
I haven’t had oral in forever, and holy shit, I almost forgot what I was missing and how good it feels. My breathing turns shallow as he laps at my clit over and over again, pumping his fingers in and out of me at the perfect angle until I swear I see stars.
“So good. So, so good,” I chant under my breath.
The world starts to spin as the pressure builds in my core, leaving me desperate and aching. It’s so strange, wanting to push him away yet pull him closer at the exact same moment. Squeezing my eyes shut, I fall apart against his mouth and fingers as they play me like a fiddle, the tickle of his scruff against my inner thighs acting like the final strike of a match, leaving me blazing.
My jaw drops as tremors of pleasure pulse through me. Over and over again. My eyes roll back in my head. I shift my hips against his mouth, letting him draw out every wave of euphoria until I swear I can’t breathe.
When the sensation is too much, I push his face away from me and try to catch my breath, pulling a low chuckle from his chest as he climbs back up my body.
“Fuck, Stormie. You wanna know what you taste like?” He smirks, caging me in again. “You taste like the fucking rain.” Nudging his nose against mine, he lets me smell myself on his lips, adding, “I’ve always been a sucker for the rain.”