Page 47 of Reclaim

“I spent twelve fucking years in this fantasy, and nothing I conjured up could’ve prepared me for you.” He pulls his shirt over his head, and my hands itch to trace every cut, every dip. I hook my fingers into my waistband, but his hands stop me. “This part’s all mine.”

The thick denim scratches the length of my legs, while my panties follow suit. His eyes trail every new inch of my exposed skin. Dropping the clothes to the floor, his eyes zero on my naked, but noticeably wet centre. A visible confession of my arousal.

“You’re wet.”

“What can I say? Your girl’s been waiting.”

“Fucking tease,” he growls. Kneeling in front of the bed, he drags me to the edge of the mattress. “Legs over my shoulders.”

His demands have my body quivering, every nerve ending on high alert. His wide, calloused hands grip my outer thighs, while he sprinkles kisses on his way to my centre. Open and bare, I’m high on the anticipation of his touch.

His tongue takes its first swipe, and a united moan ricochets off the walls. Moving in circles around my clit, he teases with an alternate dance of sucking and flicking. Gripping his hair, I rock against his face for friction; the wetness from his mouth soothing the burn from his stubble.

“Fuck,” I cry out. “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t come up for air. A man on a mission, he inhales my scent and ravages my pussy, as I climb higher and higher, ready to fall. With one last swipe of desperation, my legs tighten around his head and my orgasm shudders through me.

Jagger releases his hold on me, and I lay there listless and languid. Rising, he shucks off his pants in lightning speed. He grabs my thighs and rams his thick, hard cock inside of me. My body still jerking with mini spasms from my release, his raw and deep intrusion has me unexpectedly tumbling into an abyss of pleasure all over again.

“Fuck, your tight.”

His thrusts start off slow, but he picks up the pace quickly. I watch the chords in his neck strain with every push, and his eyes roll into the back of his head the deeper he goes.

The art of words is lost between us, a mixture of moans and grunts the only proof of animalistic pleasure. Digging the heels of my feet into his arse, I meet him stroke for stroke and let him fuck his demons out on me. His thumb finds my clit, and his eyes trail across my skin. Together, we chase the inevitable--forgetting about all the things before us, and not worrying about anything after. Tangled in pleasure, pain, and everything in between; he takes and I give. He gives and I take. I’m consumed by him. His touch, his kiss, his smile, and his tears. Jagger Michaels is everything I didn’t know I wanted.

16

Jagger

Iwake up two minutes before my alarm, switching it off before it wakes Emerson. Wrapped up in my black sheets, her naked body is like a beacon in the middle of my bed, calling to me. After last night, Emerson passed out in exhaustion, and I followed. I don’t think I’ve ever slept so peacefully.

With both of us finding many reasons for why we shouldn’t be together, I thank the universe neither of us have listened. Even though I don’t deserve her--ot now, not ever--I can’t see myself letting her go. In fact, I’m certain I’m falling head over heels, which means there’s only two ways this could really go. Together we can blossom, or together we burn. Choosing not to think of the latter, I remind myself to only indulge in thoughts of the here and now. And right now I’m in a bed with a woman whose body fits perfectly with mine. Hard, soft, fast, slow. Emerson Lane was made for me.

I wrap myself around her like a vine, my hands kissing her skin. One cupping her breast, the other resting on her stomach. My dick nestled comfortably on the seam of her arse.

“Mmmmm,” she moans. “What are you doing?”

“It’s time for your Jagger Michaels’ fairytale.”

She turns in my arms, throwing her leg over my angled body, spreading herself wide. “Can, I kiss my prince?” she asks.

My hand slides down to her pussy, my fingers caressing her clit. “I’m not a prince, baby.” I purposefully hold off on using pressure, knowing the light touches will drive her wild. “I’m a fucking pauper.”

“It doesn’t matter if you were the devil himself, I’d still want you.” Her hips move, begging for friction that isn’t there.

Kissing below her ear, I suck her earlobe into my mouth. She mewls in desperation and I rub her a little faster. “That better, baby?”

“More,” she pants.

Slipping between her folds, my fingers make their way inside her. Wet and slick, she coats my fingers with every thrust, undulating against me. Surprising me, her hand circles my shaft. I hiss as my cock fucks her hand, and she furiously fucks my fingers. Putting pressure on her bundle of nerves, like a detonator it pushes her to the limit until she shatter in my arms. “Put me inside you,” I order, wanting to feel the remnants of her orgasm around me. Swapping my fingers for my cock, I bring them to her mouth and slip them inside. She tastes herself, and I taste her. Licking the inside of her lips, my tongue reaps the rewards, devouring the exquisite blend of my two favourite places: her pussy and her mouth.

Her eyes are hooded, clouded with lust, while I’m trying to control the urge to move hard and fast. Instead, my thrusts are long, slow and deep.

After last night her body may never forget me, but after this morning I want to make sure her heart never does.

I hook my arm under her leg, pushing it against her body. Together we pick up the pace, our breathing laboured, the noise of our skin slapping growing louder with every thrust. Lowering my head to her tit, I circle her taut nipple with my tongue, and then graze it with my teeth.

“Harder, Jagger, please,” she begs. Her desperation has me wanting to climb inside her.

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