Page 116 of Fighting Jacob

Confident he’d never leave me hanging, I loosen my grip around his hips before sealing my lips over his. Our kiss is as slow as the pace he’s fucking me, but it takes nothing away from our exchange. I’m the fullest I’ve ever been—and I’m not just talking about my pussy.

He rocks into me on repeat, his pace quick enough for my second climax to build, but slow to ensure me he isn’t fucking me. I’m shocked. I never knew you could achieve such mind-spiraling emotions while fucking at a leisurely pace. I’ve always been a girl who likes to fuck—the harder, the better—but now I’m wondering what I missed out on by not slowing things down. There’s such a raw, carnal feeling associated with... with... making love.

My pupils dilate to the size of saucers. Oh my god. Is that what Jacob is doing? Is he making love to me?

When I seek confirmation from his eyes, desire rockets through my body. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. He’s making love to me. If his slow, perfect strokes aren't enough evidence, the devoted look in his eyes is a sure-fire sign.

My entire body quakes, not only gobsmacked that I’m making love and enjoying it, but because of the core-shattering climax hitting me without warning. My pussy ripples around Jacob’s cock as a low, shallow moan simpers from my lips. I claw at his back as I struggle to find my way out of an earth-shattering orgasm. It’s a long, terrifying two minutes.

“What the hell was that?” I mumble when I’ve returned from hysteria.

Jacob smiles a full-toothed grin. “It’s called making love, and I’m planning to do that to you for several more hours tonight, so you better hold on tight, C.T, because things are about to get rowdy.”

The next morning, nearly comatose from sexual exhaustion, I pretend I can’t feel Jacob’s heated gaze roaming over my body. I’m still recouping from the inconceivable number of orgasms that ripped through me last night, so I need more sleep. At least an hour or fifty. Then I’ll need just as long to comprehend how making love can invoke such awe-inspiring feeling.

I’m stunned—ecstatic—but still stunned.

Jacob doesn’t buy my poor acting skills. “Stop faking it.”

I have no clue how he knows, but he can tell when I’m awake even before I’ve opened my eyes. “Shh.”

I roll over to burrow my thumping head into his chest. Bad move. He's still shirtless, meaning my eyes can't help but pop open to drink in the visually satisfying image of his naked torso. His body is a masterpiece that deserves more than a double take.

After drinking him in like an alcoholic chugging down a can of beer, I lift my eyes to his face. I groan at his bright smile. I have no clue why he’s so chipper this early in the morning. He should have a hangover—a massive one.

“Say it again.”

I cock my brow, confused. “Shh,” I repeat, assuming that’s what he means.

It isn’t. “Not that.” The smile on his face switches to a serious smirk. “Say what you said last night.” He scoots down until we’re eye to eye. “The words you whispered when we were leaving Noah and Emily’s wedding.”

My eyes open wide as a brutal grunt steals every drop of moisture from my mouth.

He remembered.

Chapter Fifty-Six

Jacob

Twelve months later...

* * *

“You do it like this.” I lower three of Maddie’s chubby fingers, leaving her index and middle finger poking up. “Peace, man.”

She blows a sloppy raspberry. Spit sails into the air, but I know the real reason for her joy; she appreciates my efforts to show her the peace sign.

“You're teaching her the wrong finger.”

My eyes float up in just enough time to witness Slater get a nasty stink-eye from Emily. Her gaze is so hot, the marshmallow fondue on the cupcakes she's replenishing almost melts. With her gaze devoted solely to Slater, I tuck away Maddie's index finger before directing her hand toward Slater.

“That one is just for Uncle Slater... ”

My words trail off when Noah’s abrupt entrance into the family room of his cabin has him stumbling onto me showing his one-year-old daughter how to flip the bird. He curses under his breath before handing Emily the napkins he’s now clutching for dear life.

“You’ll save Unky Jake, won’t you?”

Maddie blows another raspberry—all over my cheek this time around.

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