Page 115 of Fighting Jacob

Only once he has me on the brink of an orgasm does he pull back, and even then, mayhem ensues. It isn't the impressive moves of his mouth making me giddy but the words he speaks.

“I love you, C.T.”

My heart thrashes against my ribs as I whisper words I never thought I’d say, “I love you too.”

I’ve known for a while that I love him, but I’ve been too scared to say it back. Knowing he’ll have nothing but photos to remember tonight freed me from worry. Don’t get me wrong, I want him to know, I just need to keep some cards to myself. Over the past three months, he’s had me backflipping on many rules I swore I’d never break. This one is the biggest, so I need to keep it in my arsenal for a little longer.

I don’t think Jacob heard my declaration of love. He doesn’t respond as I anticipated. He merely taps my nose before jogging around to hop into the passenger seat of his car.

Shrugging, I slide into the driver seat. A majority of our trip home is silent, and I’m beginning to wonder if Jacob is asleep. It’s only when his hand slips onto my thigh do I realize he is. Whatever is going on with him, it has him heated up—everywhere.

“You okay?”

I hope he isn’t going to be sick. We’re in his car, but I’d rather not spend my night cleaning vomit from the carpet.

“Never better,” he responds just as we arrive at my apartment building.

Climbing three flights of stairs with a heavily intoxicated Jacob is an interesting experience, but it proves my theory that he’s a happy drunk. He often steals kisses and tells me he loves me during the torturously long trip from the car to my front door.

Once we finally stumble inside, he kicks off his shoes before tackling his belt. “Home sweet home.”

Only months ago, I would have been pissed at him declaring my humble abode as his, but tonight it has a nice ring to it. His ass is indented in my couch; you can't get more moved in than that. He's practically been living with me the past three months anyway. He hasn’t decided what he wants to do career-wise yet, but he saved enough pennies the past two years fighting to supplement his income until he figures out what he wants to do.

I hope he continues his current arrangement. Most of his days are spent with Hank, helping him train a dozen boys and one girl from Hopeton House. When he isn’t there, he’s here with me. Noah endorses the new inductees’ fighting scholarships. When he heard about Jacob's plan to take them under his wing, he paid their gym memberships in cash for the next three years, thus not only helping disadvantaged kids but Hank as well. It's a win-win for all involved.

When Jacob staggers toward our room, I head into the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a bottle of Advil. By the time I trace the steps he took a mere minute ago, he’s crashed on our bed. Although I’m glad he made it to the bed before passing out, I would have preferred for him not to hog the whole thing.

After removing my makeup, and having a steaming hot shower, I join him in bed. I've barely slipped between the sheet when his hands shoots out to drag me to his side. My insides do a stupid flippy thing when he murmurs, "That's better."

You could park a truck between us when we go to bed, but by the time I wake, every single morning, I’m smothered by him.

Any chance of instantly falling asleep flies out the window when his cock braces my backside. Unlike earlier, this time around, he’s as hard as stone.

Ignoring the screamed demands of the hellion in my ear, I roll onto my opposite hip, so I can nuzzle into his chest. Halfway around, my breath hitches. His eyes are open, staring straight at me. Even being drunk can’t hide the admiration in them.

When he glides his index finger down my right cheek, every fine hair on my body prickles. The shift of air between us is almost palpable. When he adjusts his position to perch himself above me, his hair falls into his face. He's overdue for a trim, but nothing can take away from the sheer brilliance of his handsome face as he stares down at me with needy, hungry eyes.

Desire tightens my core when he rocks his hips forward. The crown of his thick cock rubs along my panties, inspiring a breathless moan to part my lips. Hearing the need in my voice, he yanks my sleeping shirt over my head before sliding my panties down my thighs. His warm breaths pebble my skin with goosebumps when he places feather-like kisses from my neck to my collarbone before coming to a stop at my aching-with-desire breasts. Unlike the many times we’ve slept together, his pace is slow and more controlled.

After rolling his tongue around my nipple, he draws it into his mouth. A grunted moan tears from my throat when he guides me toward climax by using nothing but his talented mouth. I’ve never orgasmed just from having my nipples stimulated, but if my shuddering thighs are anything to go by, Jacob is about to achieve the unachievable.

I have no idea what the fuck is going on. Usually, I’d be begging for him to increase his pace, but now I’m relishing every gentle suck and tweak. I’ve never been coiled so tight, even with him going at a slow, tender pace.

Any further thoughts on my newfound weirdness halt when a familiar tingle brews low in my gut. As every nerve in my body sparks, my breathing levels, and a low, shuddering moan escapes my parted lips. He did it. He brought me to climax by only fondling my breasts, and the simplicity doesn’t dampen it in the slightest. It’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. I feel like I’m drunk, even without touching a drop of alcohol, and my entire body is shaking.

After guiding me down from my awe-inspiring climax with gentle nibbles and teasing teeth grazes, he slithers his hand down to cup my pussy. Air whistles between his teeth when he feels how wet I am. I’m more than ready for the next phase of our night, and clearly so is he when he snags a condom from my bedside table to roll it down his magnificent cock. Even seeing him do the same mundane task hundreds of times the past two years doesn’t weaken my interest. I’m still astounded—by both him and his cock.

He nestles his cock between the folds of my pussy before raising his eyes to mine. My heart beats double. Something in his eyes has changed. The cheeky spark that regularly fires in them is still present, but something stronger, more tangible is lighting them tonight.

“Ready?”

With my mind still in a lust cloud, words are eluding me, so I nod instead. I take in the first five inches of his cock without hesitating, but the slow sheath of his last few inches has my eyes fluttering closed. It is impossible to act impassively when you're this full, and don't even get me started on when his crown hits my cervix. Most girls run for the hills when pain sparks through their wombs. I'm not most girls. I love that he can fill me like no one else can. I can't take all of him—unfortunately—but what I can feels so fucking good.

Realizing he’s reached a point where he can’t go any further, he slowly withdraws before re-entering me at the same painstakingly slow pace. When he does the same thing another four times, I wrap my legs around his waist, then dig my heels into his glorious ass, urging him to go faster.

He scoops his arm around my back to raise my hips from the bed so he can take me deeper, but he denies my request to go faster with a shake of his head. “Not tonight, Lola. I’m not fucking you tonight.”

You’d think his words would have my bitchy claws spiked, but surprisingly, they don’t. Don’t ask me why, because even I’m confused by my reaction.

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