Page 122 of When Worlds Collide
“Ssh,” he soothed, lowering his head enough to run his nose gently over mine before laying his hot mouth on mine. His lips moved, and mine parted on a sigh.
He pulled back slightly, releasing my hands.
“Good girl,” he murmured against my lips as I left my hands where they were.
I watched through hazy eyes as he raised himself up, looking down at me where I lay beneath him. His eyes, normally so warm, were now dark, raking over me with an almost physical sensation that had me squirming.
Slowly, he began to unbutton my shirt. It was one of his. I’d started sleeping in them recently because he said he liked howthey looked on me. With how he was looking at me now, I think it was also because he liked taking them off me.
Unbuttoned, he pushed the fabric to the sides, revealing my body to his hungry gaze. He looked over me like he hadn’t seen me in weeks. It made my breaths come faster, my chest heaving.
His eyes flashed back up to mine. “So perfect.”
I loved it when his accent got a little less refined, his natural Satoori more recognisable when he stopped caring. And with the way he was looking at me right then, I felt perfect. It was a heady aphrodisiac.
“Tell me what you want, cheonsa.”
His lips quirked, but it wasn’t with amusement. He slid between my legs, nudging them aside with his knees until all of me was bared to him. He looked down and groaned, closing his eyes briefly. He said something in Korean, and it sounded like he was praying.
“I only want you.” I was breathless, my hips moving of their own accord, desperately seeking.
“Hmm, is that all?”
“Isn’t that enough?” I whined, only just awake and already so ready for him that I ached.
“This?” He ground his hips against me, a fleeting pressure that had me throwing my head back, eyes fluttering closed.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Except naked.”
He was still wearing his briefs, not that they were hiding much at that moment.
He chuckled, but it was strained, as if he too was struggling to hold himself back. My fists clenched in the pillow above my head, desperate to touch him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to be gentle?” He raised one eyebrow at me, but he already knew what I wanted.
“Be gentle later,” I panted, “fuck now.”
He tutted at me. “Such language, cheonsa.”
But between one breath and the next, he was on me, pressing his demanding mouth against mine, claiming my lips in a punishing, almost bruising kiss that sent all other thoughts scattering like dandelion seeds.
One of his hands raised to clasp my wrists once more, pressing them into the pillow. His body moulded against mine, as though he also couldn’t bear any space between our skin, and close as he was, I felt when his other hand pushed down the thin barrier of his briefs. His thigh nudged mine higher, until he lifted my leg and hooked it around his hip, widening me almost to the point of pain.
But, as soon as that thought came, it was pushed aside as I felt him line himself up at my entrance.
“Joon!”
His name was torn from my lips as he pushed into me with one hard thrust. I expected to feel a pinch of discomfort at the sudden entrance, but all I felt was the immediate wash of relief that always followed the intense need he inspired in me. I wondered wildly if it was like this for everyone.
Jihoon rested a moment, his body covering mine so completely that he overwhelmed my every sense. I felt his heart thudding against my skin, the steady, but frantic pace surely matching my own.
“Mine," he gasped.
He pressed a kiss to my racing pulse point before rising up. Still holding my hands firmly, he looked down the length of our bodies to where we were joined. He ran his other hand down my thigh, pulling it higher on his hip. He loomed over me, his eyes holding me as firmly as his hand held my wrists.
“Mine,” he said again, almost growling the word at me. “Say it.”
He pulled out slightly, making me gasp.
