Page 103 of Jump on Three

“What do you think?”

Her eyes opened, meeting mine too up close to focus. “I think I like it, especially when it comes from your lips.”

She didn’t give me any warning. One moment, I had control of myself, my dick, and the next, she dragged her tongue over my top lip, and I lost myself, thrusting my cock against her belly.

Her sudden gasp had me rearing back and pushing up on my hands so no part of us was touching anymore. The loss was biting, but I would never take things further than promised. Her trust was vital to me.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to fuck you, you just—”

“Ivan, stop. You don’t have to be sorry.” She tugged on my neck, trying to get me back to her level. “Come here. I want you to do that again.”

My brow screwed up. “Again?”

Her palm flattened on my chest and slipped to my hip before sliding around to press against my length.

“Is this okay?” she asked.

“Only if you want to. You don’t have to do anything.”

“I know that, but I do want to.” To prove it, she wrapped her fingers around me, slowly moving down my shaft. “I want you to rub your beautiful cock against me if that feels good to you.”

I did not hold the reins when I was with this girl. If she wanted me, I was hers. I lowered myself until we were belly to belly, my cock trapped between us.

A jagged exhale ripped through me at the solid contact. Her warm body welcomed mine, her legs circling around my back.

“Yes,” she hissed. “Do you want to come?”

I dropped my forehead to hers. “I don’t think I have a choice, angel. Not with you beneath me, looking so fucking gorgeous and sexy.”

“Tell me how to help you. I want to be the one to make you come.”

“Blyat,” I muttered. “It’s all you.”

I shifted lower so our cores were more aligned. When the head of my cock made contact with her clit, we both shuddered. She dug her fingertips into my shoulders, her mouth open, eyes wide.

“Again,” she demanded softly. “Do that again.”

I had no choice. Holding myself at the base, I thrust against her clit. She reached down too, pushing against my ass as I moved into her. Her slick heat sent me into another realm. She felt so good, any rhythm I had fell away. I was moving on instinct and need, taking short, frantic strokes over her clit.

Her head tipped back as she cried my name to the ceiling.

“Evelyn,” I moaned. “Oh fuck, Evelyn.”

At the last second, I pulled away, falling back on my knees. Eyes locked on my girl’s writhing body, on the wetness spreading outside her pussy to her thighs, I was done.

Gone for her.

Lost to her.

I came on my stomach and hand, her name on my lips and in my veins, spilling and spilling until there was nothing left but panting breaths and a connection that was wrapped around my throat and chained to my heart.

Chapter Thirty-five

Evelyn

Rhys was attempting to knit another scarf. This one was so curved I’d told him it could no longer be called a scarf. Thus, he’d dubbed it a sclarf.

Delilah was hanging out with us, studying for an English literature exam.

---