Page 4 of Glass Jawed
My brain short-circuits for a second—but then I snap back.
No. Ilead.
I take over the kiss, deepen it, shift closer. My hands find his shirt, then the sides of his face. He tastes like smoke and something sweet. When he tries to steer me toward the couch, I redirect us—firm, steady—toward what I hope is the bedroom.
I’ve worked too damn hard to feel in control of my own body. If this is happening, it’s happening onmyterms.
Tim hesitates. Just for a second. But then he follows.
We’re kissing again by the time we reach the bed. Clothes come off in bursts—my crop tank top pulled over my head, his shirt flung onto a chair. My cargo pants untied.
He looks good, lean and smooth-chested, but the urgency in his hands feels... mismatched. Like he’s working through steps in his head.
I go to kneel, wanting to go down on him—because that’s where I feel most confident, most in charge—but he stops me, just lightly, with a small shake of his head.
Instead, he grabs a condom from the drawer, rips it open, and rolls it on in one quick motion.
Okay...
No foreplay?
No build-up?
Before I can ask or rethink, I’m thrown on the bed and he’s inside me in one solid thrust. No hesitation. His jaw tightens like he’s clenching through something.
Thankfully, I was ready. Barely.
I let out a soft breath, trying to center myself. The stretch is fine. It’s good, actually.
But the vibe is off. His eyes are closed. His expression is... conflicted? Almost like he’s concentrating too hard.
I’m here, fully naked, underneath this man, and I feel... invisible.
I push the thought away. Maybe he’s just nervous. Maybe I’m overthinking it. Maybe I just need to let myself be in the moment.
I turn my face into his neck, close my eyes, and try to feel something.
His thrusts are uneven now. Disconnected. Like he’s chasing something—his release, maybe—a finish line that has nothing to do with me. No rhythm. No care. Just frantic motion.
I stare at the ceiling, blinking.
Is this really happening? An hour ago, he was talking like he’d show me stars. Now he can’t even look at me.
I’m about to tell him to stop when—
Click.
A soft sound from outside the bedroom. Barely there. But it cuts through the silence like a bullet.
Tim freezes.
His entire body goes stiff. His eyes dart toward the door, wide and feral. He mutters something under his breath that I can’t catch.
I whisper, sitting up slightly. “Is someone here?”
He doesn’t answer. He just moves—scrambling like a man caught in headlights. The panic is so sharp, it makes me rethink everything for a split second.
Is he involved?
