Page 59 of Hiding from Hope

“Jessie,” I moan, because I can’t form words. Everything evacuates from my mind, and all I feel is him. He’s everywhere.

“I’m not going to be able to stop after this, Casey.”

“You better not stop.” I think I’d sue if he did.

His pace increases, and my body comes alive. The feeling of him as he slides inside me is like ecstasy. I’ll never get enough of this. Of him.

“I couldn’t quit you if I tried,” he spits between clenched teeth, and like the final tether on his control is snapped, he leaves the grip on my neck, pushing my chest to the bed as he holds my hips and fucks into me again and again, like the savage I asked for.

“God, Casey, you feel so fucking good,” he growls before he drives deeper, harder into me, my knees barely on the bed as he holds my hips and takes me over and over. I feel the tightening, the way my desire pools and soaks me, feeling the tingles in my toes as I grip him.

“Fuck! Jessie, I’m going to come! Please, make me come!” I shout at him, and he drops my hips, laying his chest to my back, his pace never ceasing as his hand reaches under me and plays with my clit.

“Oh, fuck!”

“That’s it, Ace, make a mess. Come on my cock, I want to feel you everywhere.” He bites down on my shoulder, at the same time, he pinches my clit, and I come in an explosion. Dark spots invade my vision, and I lose my breath as each wave of my orgasm overtakes me.

He doesn’t stop, he keeps going.

“Fuck, your pussy is strangling me. God, you feel amazing.” He pulls out, but before I can argue, he flips me on my back and is on me in seconds. His cock thrusts again, and I wrap my legs over his hips, needing him closer as he pistons inside me with speed, his lips sealing with mine.

“Another. I need another one,” he pants in my ear and kisses down my neck. “Lift your hips for me.”

I think my brain is on autopilot, because without knowing what I’m doing, I lift my hips. He slides a pillow under me and I nearly come undone completely by the change in angle.

“That’s it,” he praises and grips my neck again. “Look at me. I want to see those pretty eyes when you come. So, be a good girl and fucking come,” he demands, and like my body has become completely his, it obeys, the sheer speed of his thrusts, the angles, the way one hand grips my neck and the other pinches my clit, I fly off again, trying to hold those incredible blue-green eyes as euphoria takes over me. After another thrust, I feel him go, too, and we ride out the wave together, coming down from the high as he stills and lays above me.

“You are magic,” he whispers, and when he raises his head to spear me with those eyes, he barely looks before he kisses me. Gently and softly.

He pulls out slowly, and it is only in this moment that I realize he had actually used a condom.

God, I hadn’t even thought about it. In the throes of the passion and desire I was flooded with, I hadn’t even cared. I’m glad he at least had half a mind to do that.

He disposes of it in the trash can in the corner of his room, and before I can leave the bed, he bends and lifts me in another bridal carry.

“What are you—”

He ends my question with a kiss. Another gentle one, full of longing. A lazy, delicate, and sated kiss that pulls on my forgotten heart strings. Sending an ache to my chest, one I needed desperately to shut down.

He kisses me so thoroughly I hadn’t realized we were now in the bathroom. He sets me down on my feet, leaning behind me with one arm to turn on the shower, allowing it to get hot.

We don’t speak any words, but instead hold each other’s gaze. His fingers drag lazy circles on my lower back and mine find their way to the nape of his neck, massaging and tickling. “You pierce my soul.” He smiles gently as he whispers his words against my lips.

“Jane Austen,” I whisper back, our usual game in play, seamlessly. I bite my lip to suppress the smile and the way he lights up my heart, but feeling my chest grow heavy as I hear the omitted quote in my head. The words he didn’t say. I am half agony, half hope.

He can’t give all of himself to me. He is still fighting it.

Jenny.

Without another word, he pulls me into the shower, soaping up my whole body, dotting my clean skin with kisses as he massages, caressing away any doubt, making me forget the mental warning. That I might be falling for someone who is in love with someone else.

He turns me gently, in every which way, before he is at my back and massaging in the shampoo.

Being the second half of my request. Jessie Jenkins: the savage and the gentleman.

“I could get used to this.” I hum happily, my eyes closed tight as those barista hands work their magic.

“Me, too.”

---